Memories of the Japanese Empire: Comparison of the Colonial and Decolonisation Experiences in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō 9780367677466, 9780367677459, 9781003132653

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Memories of the Japanese Empire

The contributors to this book examine and compare the colonial and decolonisation experiences of people in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō – Micronesia – who underwent periods of rule by the Greater Japanese Empire. Early anthropological theory of Western imperialist countries focused on transforming ‘savage’ cultures by ruling in a high-handed manner. When Japan asserted its hegemony through sudden colonisation, its culture was perceived as inferior to the civilisation indices previously experienced by those it ruled. How did these ruled nations construct their cultural and historical awareness in areas where the strategic design of Japan’s ‘civilising mission’ was not convincing? After the end of World War II many emerging countries in the Third World achieved independence through various negotiations or struggles with their former colonial powers and built new relationships with their erstwhile rulers. However, after Japan’s defeat, Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō became ruled by new foreign governments. How did Japan’s reign and transplanted Japanese culture affect the formation of historical awareness and cultural construction of present-day communities in these two regions? This book provides a fascinating ethnographic insight into the effects of empire and colonisation on the historic imagination, which will be of great interest to historical anthropologists of Taiwan, Japan, and the Pacific. Yuko MIO is Professor at Keio University. She specialises in the anthropological study of East Asia, with an emphasis on folk religion, and the social memory of subjects of the Japanese administration in Taiwan. Her publications include Historical Ethnography of Wang Ye Worship: The Dynamics of Han Chinese Folk Belief in Taiwan (in Chinese, 2018), written Introduction to: The 5th JASCA International Symposium ‘The Internationalization/Globalization of Anthropology in East Asia: Taiwan and Japan’ (2019), and ‘Domestication of Colonial and War Experience: A Case Study of Japanese Deified in Taiwan’ (in Japanese, 2017).

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155  Chinese Hinterland Capitalism and Shanxi Piaohao Banking, State, and Family, 1720–1910 Luman Wang 156  Eisaku Satō, Japanese Prime Minister, 1964–72 Okinawa, Foreign Relations, Domestic Politics and the Nobel Prize Ryuji Hattori 157  Japan’s Pan-Asian Empire Wartime Intellectuals and the Korea Question, 1931–1945 Seok-Won Lee 158  Britain, Japan and China, 1876–1895 East Asian International Relations before the First Sino-Japanese War Yu Suzuki 159  A History of the Modern Chinese Navy, 1840–2020 Bruce A. Elleman 160  Planting Parliaments in Eurasia, 1850–1950 Concepts, Practices, and Mythologies Edited by Ivan Sablin and Egas Moniz Bandeira 161  Chinese Theatre Troupes in Southeast Asia Touring Diaspora 1900s – 1970s Zhang Beiyu 162  Memories of the Japanese Empire Comparison of the Colonial and Decolonisation Experiences in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō Edited by Yuko Mio For a full list of available titles please visit: www.routledge.com/RoutledgeStudies-in-the-Modern-History-of-Asia/book-series/MODHISTASIA

Memories of the Japanese Empire Comparison of the Colonial and Decolonisation Experiences in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō Edited by Yuko Mio

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, Yuko Mio; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Yuko Mio to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-67746-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-67745-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-13265-3 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex Covantage, LLC

Contents

List of illustrationsvii List of contributorsviii Acknowledgementsxi Notes on transliterationxiii Mapsxiv Introduction

1

YUKO MIO

PART I

Recognition of the Japanese colonial era19 1

The ‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld during and after the colonial period: with reference to Nan’yō Guntō

21

HIROKO UENO

2

The realities of Palauan colonial experiences

40

MAKI MITA

3

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’: collisions, contacts, and re-encounters of the Bunun with ‘Japan’

57

NAOKI ISHIGAKI

PART II

Living after the war79 4

The ‘crossover generation’: residents of Taiwan’s East coast under multi-layered foreign rule KAZUYUKI NISHIMURA

81

vi  Contents 5

Christian nursing care for the Japanese-speaking elderly in Taiwan: analysis of the official newsletters of Gyokulansou

99

YOHEI FUJINO

6

Palau Sakura Kai: an association of Palauans of Japanese ancestry

117

SHINGO IITAKA

PART III

Objects and memories135 7

Significance of heritage in decolonisation: Taiwanese colonial experiences and their appropriation of Japan’s imperial-era buildings

137

HISAHIKO KAMIZURU

8

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll and economic development: a case study of the East Pacific monument to the war dead and the Seion-Kinenhi

160

TAKEHIRO KUROSAKI

9

Multi-layered realms of memory: a diachronic study of the commemoration of the Mudanshe Incident in Taiwan

180

MAOKO MIYAOKA

Glossary201 Index205

Illustrations

Tables 5.1 Events from the 2002 report on Gyokulansou activities

109

Figures 0.1 Map of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō under the Empire of Japan 0.2 Map of Taiwan (2020) 0.3 Map of the Palau Islands (2020) 2.1 Melekeok villagers and the village office in Feb 1936 3.1 Map of Bunun territory and research regions 5.1 Gyokulansou Dayori which contains Japanese and Taiwanese poetry 5.2 Seisho to Inori no Kai Gyokulan, which is written in kanji and has ruby characters in Japanese 7.1 A Japanese-style House, Taipei, 2012 7.2 Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall, Taipei, 2019 7.3 Beitou Hot Spring Museum, Taipei, 2006 7.4 Qingtian 76 Taiwan, Taipei, 2015 7.5 Red House, Taipei, 2006 7.6 Zhongshan Hall, Taipei, 2015 7.7 Taipei Qin Hall, Taipei, 2012 7.8 Tokonoma alcove at the Taipei Qin Hall, Taipei, 2012 8.1 Map of the Republic of the Marshall Islands 8.2 Map of Majuro Atoll 8.3 The East Pacific Monument to the War Dead (CWD), Majuro, 2011 8.4 The Seion-Kinenhi (MIG), Majuro, 2011 9.1 Location map of Miyakojima and Bayaowan 9.2 Map of memorial sites of the Mudanshe Incident 9.3 ‘Love and Peace’ monument in the Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park, 2012

xiv xv xvi 48 59 108 110 143 144 144 145 146 147 148 149 162 162 164 165 184 193 194

Contributors

Yohei FUJINO is Associate Professor at Hokkaido University. He investigates the relationship between Christianity and politics in East Asia, centred on Taiwan, from the perspective of post-colonialism, as well as tourism and media issues. He is the author of Popular Christian Anthropology in Taiwan: Social Context and Healing Practices (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2013) and coeditor of Hoppy Culture (in Japanese, Tokyo: Harvest-sha, 2016) and East Asia in the Post-Corona Era (in Japanese, Tokyo: Bensei Publishing Inc., 2020). Shingo IITAKA is Associate Professor at the University of Kochi, Japan. His research focuses on the effects of the Japanese administration and memories of the Pacific War in Palau, Micronesia. His writings include ‘Remembering Nan’yō from Okinawa: Deconstructing the Former Empire of Japan through Memorial Practices’ (History and Memory 27(2): 126–151, 2015), and ‘Tourism of Darkness and Light: Japanese Commemorative Tourism to Paradise’ (Leisure and Death: An Anthropological Tour of Risk, Death, and Dying, edited by Adam Kaul and Jonathan Skinner, pp. 141–159, Louisville: University Press of Colorado, 2018). His current work examines the entanglement of Pacific War memories among the Micronesian, American, and Japanese peoples. Naoki ISHIGAKI is Professor of Socio-Cultural Anthropology at Okinawa International University. He researches the indigenous movement of Austronesians in Taiwan, with a focus on land claims and the situations of ‘indigenous rights’ under the constitution and legal system of the Republic of China. He is the author of the book Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Movement in Contemporary Taiwan: An Anthropological Study of Land Claims by the Bunun People (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2011). He has also published articles on Taiwan’s Austronesian language revivals and on both the applicability and challenge of the concept of ‘indigenous peoples’ in East Asian regions, such as Taiwan and Okinawa. Hisahiko KAMIZURU is Professor at the Prefectural University of Hiroshima. He is currently working on the collective memory of the Japanese administration and transnationalism in East Asia. He is the co-editor of Anthropology

Contributors  ix of ‘Border’ from the Perspectives of Yaeyama and Tsushima Islands (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2017), and the author of ‘The Way History Is Told in Taiwan: Reassessing a Survey in Taipei’ (Notandam 39:83–98, 2015), and of ‘Possibilities for Anthropological Collaboration between Taiwan and Japan’ (Japanese Review of Cultural Anthropology 20(2):217–226, 2019). He is the editor-in-chief of Nihon Taiwan Gakkaihou (Journal of the Japanese Association for Taiwan Studies). Takehiro KUROSAKI is Junior Associate Professor at Tokai University. He specialises in the anthropological study of the Pacific Islands, with an emphasis on the relationship between the political-economic system under globalisation and the life histories of local people in the Pacific Islands. Among his publications, he has authored Political History of the Marshall Islands: U.S. Basement in Kwajalein Atoll, Nuclear Testing of Bikini Atoll and the Compact of Free Association (in Japanese, Tokyo: Akashishoten, 2013), and edited the Transformation and Reconstruction of the International Order in the Pacific Island region (in Japanese, Chiba: Institute of Developing Economies, Japan External Trade Organization, 2016). Yuko MIO is Professor at Keio University. She specialises in the anthropological study of East Asia, with an emphasis on folk religion, and the social memory of subjects of the Japanese administration in Taiwan. Her publications include Historical Ethnography of Wang Ye Worship: The Dynamics of Han Chinese Folk Belief in Taiwan (in Chinese, Taipei: Institute of Ethnology, Academia Sinica, 2018), written Introduction to: The 5th JASCA International Symposium ‘The Internationalization/Globalization of Anthropology in East Asia: Taiwan and Japan’ (Japanese Review of Cultural Anthropology 20(2): 133–144, 2019), and ‘Domestication of Colonial and War Experience: A Case Study of Japanese Deified in Taiwan’ (in Japanese, Nihon Taiwan Gakkaihou 19: 14–28, 2017). Maki MITA is Associate Professor of Anthropology at Kobegakuin University. Her current research interest focuses on colonial experiences and memories on Palau and Okinawa. Her publications include Palauan Children under Japanese Rule: Their Oral Histories (Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 2009), ‘Remembering Colonial Experiences: Palauan Elders’ Stories of Being Educated as Imperial People, and Being Discriminated Against as Islanders’ (in Japanese, Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology, 33(1): 81–133, 2008). Maoko MIYAOKA is Professor at Fukuoka University. Her research focuses on the ethnicity of Taiwanese indigenous peoples and its relationship to the former Japanese colonial administration and related anthropological issues. Her recent writings include ‘The Names of the Tsou in the Past and the Present: Discussion about Recovery of Personal Names of Indigenous Peoples of Taiwan’ (in Japanese, Senri Ethnological Reports 147: Personal Naming and Civil Registration among the Indigenous Peoples of Taiwan, edited by Atsushi Nobayashi

x  Contributors and Tadasu Matsuoka, pp. 127–153, 2019) and ‘Review of Japanese Anthropological studies on Taiwan in the Past Decade’ (in Japanese, Nihon Taiwan Gakkaihou 2: 19–38, 2019). Kazuyuki NISHIMURA is Professor at Japan Women’s University. He has conducted extensive fieldwork in Taiwan, where his primary interests are the influence of Japanese colonial rule and fishermen’s migration on the east coast. Nishimura is a co-editor of Anthropology of ‘Border’ from the Perspectives of Yaeyama and Tsushima Islands (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2017). He is also the author of ‘Migration and Technology of Japanese Fishermen during the Japanese Colonial Era in Taiwan: As an Example of the Harpoon-fishing in “Migrant Village” ’ (in Japanese, The Colonial Experience of Taiwan: Formation, Transformation, and Disconnect of the Japanese Recognition, edited by Hiroko Ueno and Yuko Mio, pp. 99–140, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2011). Hiroko UENO is Former Professor of Toyo University. She is the author of The Ethnography of Affinity among Han Chinese in Taiwan (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2000; in Chinese, Taipei: SMC Publishing Inc., 2015); Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2011), co-edited with Yuko Mio; and, Trans-border, Disconnection and Afterimage in the Japanese Empire (in Japanese, Tokyo: Fukyosha, 2020), co-edited with Hisahiko Kamizuru. Her current research interest focuses on the life history of Taiwanese women who experienced the colonial period and issues related to the changing family system in Taiwan.

Acknowledgements

Papers that form the basis of this book, including the Introduction and Chapters 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and 7, were initially published in Memory of Imperial Japan (『帝国日 本の記憶』, edited by Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, Hisashi Endo 遠藤央, and Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子, Tokyo: Keio University Press, 2016). The remaining chapters (Chapters 4, 8, and 9) appeared in the Japanese Journal of Cultural Anthropology (『文化人類学』, Vol. 81. No.2., 2016). For the benefit of non-Japanese-speaking readers, we have made a considerable number of additions to the original contents of the Japanese papers, as well as necessary corrections with a view to publishing in English. We would like to thank the following for their research grants in support of publication of this book: • •

The Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Project No. 17251011, Organiser: Hiroko Ueno/ Project No. 22251012, Organiser: Yuko Mio/ Project No. 20K01222, Organiser: Yuko Mio/ Project No. 19H01393, Organiser: Hisahiko Kamizuru. Internal Research Grant, Keio University, 2020, Organizer: Yuko Mio

Special gratitude is reserved for the local people and institutions in Taiwan, the Republic of Palau, and the Republic of the Marshall Islands. Without the cooperation of their people and institutions, our research would not have been completed and this book would never have been published. We hope that the discussions offered in this book fully capture the subjects’ thoughts on their present living conditions and colonial experiences. Amanda Bradley (Former Associate Professor, Miyazaki University) and Mami Ishikawa (Lecturer of English, Kyoto Women’s University and Kyoto Sangyo University) assisted the authors with the English proofreading. Megumi Takasaki (Research Fellow, IACS, International Christian University) and Moe Takahashi (Doctoral Programme Student, Keio University Graduate School of Human Relations) provided editing support. We would like to express our sincere gratitude to all of the above.

xii  Acknowledgements Finally, we would like to thank Simon Bates, Jacy Hui, and the rest of the staff at Routledge/Taylor & Francis for bringing this book to the world. Yuko Mio December 31, 2020

Condolence Message Moe Takahashi passed away of a sudden illness in January 2021. The editor and the contributors would like to express their deepest condolences and heartfelt thanks, for this book would not have materialised without her dedicated support. Yuko Mio March 22, 2021

Notes on transliteration

Chinese and Japanese characters for all authors and texts cited are provided in the bibliography. In addition to English notation, some important terms, personal and place names, and so on are also written in kanji notation with their Roman alphabet notation in Japanese or Chinese. With a few exceptions, the conventional notation specific to each historical era is adopted. Traditional forms of Chinese characters used in pre-war Japan are changed to the Chinese characters in common use now. The following standard systems have been adopted for the transliteration of Asian names and terms; Pinyin for Chinese, and Hepburn for Japanese kanji. For Taiwanese names, however, the notation used by the writer will be followed if the writer uses a notation other than Pinyin. Regarding the transliteration of place names in Taiwan, with a few exceptions, the commonly used Wade system is adopted here. Japanese, Taiwanese, Chinese, and Korean names in this book follow the convention of listing the family name first, as is common in East Asia, except for cases in which the author published in English, and listed the name in question according to Western convention.

Maps

Figure 0.1  Map of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō under the Empire of Japan. Source: Produced by Shingo Iitaka. (Place names are written in conventional notation specific to Japan’s imperial era).

Maps  xv

Figure 0.2  Map of Taiwan (2020). Source: Produced by Shingo Iitaka.

xvi  Maps

Figure 0.3  Map of the Palau Islands (2020). Source: Produced by Shingo Iitaka.

Introduction Yuko MIO

This book examines and compares the colonial and decolonisation experiences of people in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō (南洋群島, the Micronesian islands north of the equator except for Guam and the Gilbert Islands), who underwent periods of rule of the Greater Japanese Empire.1 The purpose of the book is to clarify how Japan’s reign and transplanted Japanese culture are related to the creation of historical awareness and the cultural creation of present-day communities in these two regions. The following two points present a rough summary of the important issues discussed in the book: 1

The early anthropological theory of Western imperialist countries focused on transforming ‘savage’ cultures, by ruling in a high-handed manner aimed at promoting their ‘civilising mission’ with the West representing the East in a manner that suited the West’s own convenience. In this context, pre-modern Japan was relatively located in the periphery of the sphere of ‘Chinese civilisation’, whereas Taiwan was closer to the core of the civilisation, and Nan’yō Guntō islanders were ruled by Spain and Germany, and widely accepted Christianity in the period preceding Japanese rule. In other words, although Japan asserted its hegemony through sudden colonisation, its culture was perceived as inferior to the civilisation indices previously experienced by those it ruled. Therefore, it is necessary to examine how these ruled nations created their cultural and historical awareness in areas where the strategic design of Japan’s ‘civilising mission’ was unconvincing.2 2 After the end of World War II, the emerging countries in the Third World achieved independence through various negotiations or struggles with their former colonial powers and built new relationships with their erstwhile rulers. However, after Japan’s defeat, Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō came to be ruled by new foreign governments, where the former came under the control of the ascendant Kuomintang (KMT) and the latter was taken over by the United States. There have been various debates as to whether Taiwan’s envelopment under the reign of the KMT should be seen as a return to the ‘Motherland’ or simply a transition to a new era of colonial rule under the KMT. The core members of the

2  Yuko MIO post-war KMT government came from the Chinese continent and were therefore foreign to people living in Taiwan since the Qing period or the Japanese colonial era. Moreover, they established a ‘national language’ different from that spoken by the local people and regarded Taiwanese culture as underdeveloped compared with the mainstream culture of mainland China. For the society of indigenous people of Taiwan which lacked any political power structures beyond small communities united by kinship ties or territorial connections, both the KMT and Japan were foreign rulers.3 After World War II, inhabitants of each area were confronted with a foreign ruling country that imposed its own form of cultural hegemony to replace that established by Imperial Japan, and nostalgic references to the Japanese era and attempts to use knowledge and language acquired in that period became a major concern for the new ruling foreign powers. People’s experiences in the Japanese period were targeted for manipulation, and they were under pressure to reorganise their perspectives amidst asymmetric power relationships. In other words, multilayered governance (cf. Huang 2010; Wakabayashi 2007) by the foreign powers is an important issue in this book. Based on specific case studies, this book explores how people in the two regions of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō used, appropriated, purged, or internalised ‘Japan’ to reconstruct their lives and cultures under new foreign rulers.4 In conducting the analysis, particular attention is devoted to considering how the foreign rulers dealt with Japanese influences on the cultures and institutions of inhabitants of these regions, and the kinds of post-war economic relationships and human exchanges that were established between these areas and Japan. The study of colonialism and decolonisation in Taiwan and in Nan’yō Guntō has gradually flourished since Mark R. Peattie and others began to take notice of these regions in the 1980s (see, for example, Myers and Peattie’s edited volume from 1984). However, much of this scholarship derives from historical or literary studies associated with post-colonialism. In Taiwan, such examples include Ching (2001), Narangoa and Cribb (2003), Liao Ping-hui and David Der-wei Wang (2006), and Morris (2015). In addition, studies of indigenous peoples of Taiwan include Barclay (2017). Tierney (2010) discusses issues of Japanese identity through representations of indigenous people of Taiwan and people of Nan’yō Guntō by Japanese intellectuals and novelists during the colonial era. Peattie (1988) provides an excellent historical account of international relations and the political history of Nan’yō Guntō. More recently, Hanlon (2014) has discussed the issue of Japan and US governance through a biography of the half-Japanese-halfMicronesian who became president of the Federated States of Micronesia. Barlow’s (1997) edited volume is a good example of scholarship exploring colonial modernity. However, it has been noted, by Cooper (2005) among others, that the colonial modernity theory tends to excessively emphasise the negative aspects of colonialism, creating a dichotomy between modernity and antimodernity and between resistance and submission. To better understand the lived reality of those who inhabited the colonies, attention must be paid to subtler practices and conflicts, which are easily obscured by such a reductive perspective.

Introduction  3 In light of this existing scholarship, the significance of anthropological research emerges, revealing the minute everyday practices of people who were not always well-governed (Parry 1994). The focus of our book is not historical change from the macro perspective of imperialism or the work of the revolutionaries and intellectuals who led anti-Japanese and independence movements. Rather, the focus is on the daily work of ordinary people. Although never prominent, these people avoided a variety of political pressures in their daily lives and put up such minute resistance that it is hard to even recognise it as such. However, such practices may open a small window on the relationship between the ruler and the ruled. The strength of anthropology lies in its focus on the practices of such ordinary people. A great deal of anthropological research on colonialism and post-colonialism has examined the evolving relationships between former rulers and those whom they ruled, including the latter’s creation of post-colonial cultural and historical recognitions. However, most of these analyses have been based on Western imperialist examples, such as the United Kingdom and France, and there have been few studies of the characteristics of Japanese imperialism and its decolonisation processes based on that nation’s unique form of hegemony.5 Moreover, most comparisons of areas subjected to Japanese imperialism have focused on Taiwan, Korea, and Manchuria, whereas Nan’yō Guntō has long been overlooked. Although the differences between colonial and commissioned rule cannot be entirely overlooked, Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō were both practically ruled by Japan, and both regions came under the control of new external rulers after World War II.6 As such, a comparison between these two regions is worthwhile, based on the premise of exploring commonalities among the multi-layered regimes of foreign governments.7 In the following sections, the author will delve more deeply into the concepts of ‘civilising mission’ and the multi-layered regimes of foreign governments.

Imperial rule and the ‘civilising mission’ During the 19th century, the advancement of capitalism intensified the need of European nations to secure capital export destinations and overseas markets, and many countries established colonial systems by invading and occupying areas throughout the non-Western world. As a complement to politico-military domination and economic exploitation, Western empires such as Britain and France imposed their own cultural values and practices and reorganised and destroyed the socio-cultural structures of the ruled nations. These often-violent interventions were justified under the veil of ‘the civilising mission’. According to Kibata (2008: 66), the British Empire recognised the pluralism of East and West at the start of the 19th century, in that both regions were perceived as being equally civilised. However, the idea of Europe’s advanced development relative to Asia had begun to flourish by the 19th century, and as the myth of disparity gradually became fixed, Asia was regarded as mired in a ‘backward’ state (Kibata 2008; see also Matsui 1968).

4  Yuko MIO According to Hirano (2002: 43), the French initially discussed the concept of ‘civilisation’ in relation to the institution of slavery. Slavery was justified on the grounds that it could civilise black people through Christian evangelisation; however, it was also criticised from a humanitarian perspective, and France’s National Assembly ultimately declared its intention to end the institution in 1794. In other words, the abolition of slavery was eventually regarded as a mark of ‘civilisation’; however, colonial expansion was perceived as necessary as a means for the more ‘advanced’ French technology, knowledge, and culture to enlighten the ‘inferior’ people living in ‘undeveloped’ areas (Hirano 2002: 170). However, not all of the areas that the British and French colonised lacked moredeveloped civilisations. Societies such as the Indian Mughal Empire had established vast areas of military power and complex control mechanisms. There were also countries such as Vietnam, with a bureaucracy based on the ancient Chinese higher civil service examination system and where Confucianism, Buddhism, and sophisticated art flourished. In that context, it may not be reasonable to argue that only those areas ruled by Japan had experienced civilisation prior to their colonisation. If the previous point is valid, then what is the difference between British and French colonial rule and Imperial Japan? The question here is whether or not rulers could establish a logic by which to regard the culture of those to be ruled and governed as being underdeveloped and in need of civilisation. In this regard, the greatest difference between the English and French Empire and the Empire of Japan appears to be related to the degree of cultural proximity between the ruler and the ruled. The cultures of the non-European world seemed alien from the viewpoint of Western civilisation; their spoken languages and writing systems (the latter not always present) were quite distinct, as were their cosmological systems, architecture, and the arts. Although Islam shared some commonalities with Christianity and Judaism in the sense of shared origins and the conveyance of divine revelation by a prophet, Islam itself had developed in a manner very different from the other two monotheistic systems (Kosugi 1994: 66–69), and Buddhism and other native indigenous beliefs were even more clearly distinct from European religions. On the one hand, the lack of commonality or familiarity is what may have made it possible to initially recognise the possibility of ‘plurality’. On the other hand, the significant extent of these cultural differences also led Europeans to gradually explain them based on concepts of superiority and inferiority, and to position colonial others as inferior or uncivilised in the administrative structures. How was that change made possible? The view of ‘labour’ may be identified as a major factor in Europeans’ shifting perceptions. During the Middle Ages and early Renaissance, ‘good barbarians’ (bons sauvages) were praised for living a natural life and retaining spiritual holiness and excellence without being bound by labour, which was considered a necessary evil to be avoided by meditation. However, a new concept of labour was born in the late Renaissance period as it was realised that wealth was gained through work (Leclerc 1972). For example, the French political economist Antoine de Montchrestien (1575–1621) insisted

Introduction  5 that happiness is gained through labour that drives the accumulation of capitalist wealth. By equating ‘civilisation’ with labour, and making this concept analogous to industrial Europe, a typology of various societies was created using technological development as a scale. According to Leclerc, through the progress of the Industrial Revolution in Europe, labour in the 19th century had come to be highly regarded as a source of wealth. Conversely, non-Europeans were viewed as indulging in immoral lives defined by laziness and a lack of industry. In this way, the ‘gap’ between the advanced European societies and the rest of the world was considered to be irresolvable unless the latter were subordinated to Europeans, and Christian missionaries stationed in the colonies advanced the idea that evangelism was inextricably linked with the dissemination of technology and the spirit of collaboration as they promulgated the great importance of labour among the local people.

Colonial rule by a country ambiguously positioned on the civilisation ‘ladder’ How were the rulers, i.e. the Japanese, and the ruled, i.e. the local people, given their positions in the regional context of East Asia and the Nan’yō Guntō when ranked according to the degree of ‘civilisation’? Japan faced significant challenges in its effort to build an order based on modern capitalist values of ‘civilisation’ that placed its own society at the top and positioned those it ruled as inferior. In the pre-modern East Asian China-centric order, as a small country located on the periphery of Chinese civilisation, Japan was in the lowly position of imitating and acquiring characteristics of Chinese culture until the Meiji Restoration. Taiwan’s colonisation, however, reversed the traditional hierarchy; in light of the cultural similarities between Japan and China, it was difficult to separate the cultures of the two nations and position the latter as inferior to Japan.8 Therefore, Japan had to take a different approach from that of the West to acquire and maintain political and governance hegemonies. It seems that the Empire adopted contradictory strategies to achieve its goal. On the one hand, Japan enforced a policy of assimilation, which was somewhat challenging during the early period of modernisation, when Japan itself was in the process of adopting Western technology, ideas, and social systems. Therefore, Japan adapted Western modernity and introduced it in its colonial assimilation policies as if this Western modernity were itself Japanese culture and technology (Mio 2006b). On the other hand, Japan used its cultural proximity to those it ruled, as a means of governance. As an example, let us examine the problem of the language of the Han people in Taiwan. As indicated earlier, before the Meiji Restoration, Japanese intellectuals’ greatest concern was the acceptance and internalisation of Chinese civilisation. For example, kanbun (漢文 Japanised Classical Chinese), which had played a central role for the Japanese in accepting Chinese civilisation, was based on the use of Chinese characters (kanji 漢字) and was considered equivalent to authoritative,

6  Yuko MIO intellectually produced consumer goods for the well-educated (Chen 2012: 15). Therefore, in the early days of imperial rule, kanbun was used to educate the Han Chinese until the establishment of the Japanese language education system. Specifically, the Empire used an invented Japanised Chinese system as an intermediary tool to educate the Han people in Taiwan regarding its adapted Western modernity (Chen 2012).9 This approach made it easier for the Han people in Taiwan to accept modern Western culture as part of Japanese culture. However, indigenous people of Taiwan and the Nan’yō Guntō islanders were unfamiliar with kanji or kanbun, and a different approach was needed to ensure their acceptance of modernity and Japanese culture. It was reasoned that learning kanji would be a challenging task for these groups, who had not previously had their own writing systems; therefore, they were taught the Japanese syllabary.10 Due to the difficulty of educating students on abstract ideas and modern technology using only the syllabary, the content taught in primary education was generally limited to knowledge necessary for daily life. Moreover, the lack of opportunities for the indigenous people to learn kanji kept their ‘civilisation’ level lower and thus preserved Japanese superiority.11 Cultural proximity was also used to justify Japan’s regional domination in the context of ‘Asianism’. In contrast to Western and Chinese civilisation, Japan was not in a position to portray itself as a superior ‘civilisation’. Additionally, Asia at that time was viewed as being at the opposite pole from ‘civilisation’ from the perspective of the West. Therefore, Japan attempted to assimilate those ruled on the basis of cultural homogeneity, thus placing itself in the same sphere as the Asianruled people, which Hashiya (1991) argued was a fiction maintained in order to advance imperial ideology by positioning the ruled as the Emperor’s children.12 According to Tierney (2010), pre-war writers such as Sato Haruo, Nitobe Inazo, and Nakajima Atsushi emphasised the similarities between Japanese culture and those of the ruled in their literature and ethnography, and thereby insisted on the legitimacy of integrating them into the Japanese Empire. Similarly, Endo (1999) describes how Yanagita Kunio’s younger brother, Matsuoka Shizuo, insisted, in the book Micronesian Ethnography, that although Japanese culture was unique, it shared many characteristics with Micronesian cultures. Japan’s superiority was evinced in the differences between the cultures, which, combined with their shared cultural origins, justified the integration of Micronesia into the Empire (Endo 1999: 87–90).13 Despite the afore-mentioned constraints, Japan perpetuated images of itself as a ‘civilisation’ and of the indigenous people of Taiwan and the people of Nan’yō Guntō as ‘savages’. For example, according to Yamaji (2004), when discussing the necessity to educate the indigenous people, the officials of the Governor-­ General of Taiwan characterised them as ‘cute children’ and as being ‘innocent’ as well as ‘ignorant’ and ‘savage’. Similarly, Mita (2011) noted that many scholars who researched Nan’yō Guntō in the Japanese era, such as the engraver and folklorist Hijikata Hisakatsu, harboured the illusion of the South Sea Islands as an unspoiled and undeveloped field. Tierney (2010) compared Japanese writers’ representation of indigenous people of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō islanders and

Introduction  7 showed that, whereas the former were portrayed as violent and irrational headhunting tribes, the latter were given an innocent and cheerful primitive image. However, it seems that the ‘civilisation versus savage’ notion was not simply accepted by Nan’yō Guntō islanders, who had been exposed to Christianity since their encounters with the Spanish during the Age of Discovery. Christianity and related Western customs had already penetrated to a considerable extent by the time that Japan began its reign in the area after World War I, and despite its wariness regarding the continued relationship between Westerners and local people, the Japanese mandate over Nan’yō Guntō was unable to prevent the islanders from adhering to Christianity. Many local people used comparisons of Christian worship with Emperor worship and the national Shinto religion that Japan had imposed, as a basis for criticising Japanese rule (Imaizumi 2015). The earlier discussion clarifies that the logic of ‘the civilising mission’ was not persuasive in at least some of the areas ruled under the Japanese Empire. Accordingly, the following questions should be asked: What elements of Japanese culture did those under Imperial rule accept, and which were rejected? How did they use or appropriate what they received from Japan? What strategies did they employ when facing Japanese rulers, who did not necessarily have an absolute cultural advantage?

Decolonisation under a multi-layered foreign power Let us now move on to the point when new foreign governments arrived in Taiwan and the Micronesian islands after World War Ⅱ. During the process of decolonisation of territories controlled by Western imperialism, those previously ruled became the building blocks of history and culture as they achieved independence from European states through various negotiations and, sometimes, armed struggles.14 Of course, these independent states were not necessarily elevated to positions completely equal to those of the former colonial powers. In many cases, although direct political control was lifted, substantive asymmetric relations centred on the economy continued, thus giving rise to the phenomenon often called ‘neo-colonialism’. However, the important point in the context of the present discussion is that even though the newly independent nations may have depended economically on the former colonial power, they were nonetheless able to become those cultural building blocks. Most had come to accept the culture of the former ruling state as more modern and advanced than their home-grown traditions, and they sometimes imitated it, and at other times appropriated it to rebuild their own culture and reinterpret their history. On the other hand, Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō both experienced a situation in which those colonised could not directly participate in the decolonisation process. They could not gain ‘independence’ by negotiating or engaging in armed struggle against Japan, as the shifts in administration were determined by an international power balance that excluded those actually born in the region (Tomatsu 2007). Nan’yō Guntō was handed over to the United States by the United Nations after the war and governed under the scheme of strategic trust governance. The

8  Yuko MIO United States eliminated the Japanese language and Japanese-style Imperial education and introduced English education and democracy in the region, and there were dramatic changes in culture and population flows due to the introduction of American values and economic assistance (Endo 2002). For that reason, the antiJapanese mood was strong in post-war Palau society under the American rule until the 1970s (Endo 2013: 5). However, referring to research by Higuchi Wakako, Mita introduces cases in which some Palauans who had experienced Japanese rule felt adrift in their changed environment because they could neither speak English well nor make use in the transformed environment of the knowledge they had acquired in the Japanese colonial era (Mita 2008).15 Taiwan was handed over to the Republic of China (ROC) on October 25, 1945, when the governor-general of Taiwan Ando Rikichi exchanged surrender documents with the ROC Government in Taipei. There was hardly any movement to achieve independence in Taiwan immediately after the war, and ROC control was generally welcomed as Taiwan’s retrieval by the ‘Motherland’.16 However, expectations were gradually betrayed by inflation, bureaucratic corruption and the military’s lack of discipline. The 228 Incident, an anti-government uprising and subsequent massacre by the KMT, broke out in 1947, and due to its implementation of martial law and ‘white terrorism’, the ROC government lost the support of the people in Taiwan, and the ‘independence’ movement emerged (He 2003). The KMT government regarded cultures in Taiwan as ‘delayed’ and restricted the use of local dialects in schools and public situations. Students were not taught their own history but instead, Chinese history, and thus received a view of Japan from the perspective of those who had fought anti-Japanese wars, whereas the experience of people in Taiwan who had fought in World War II as subjects of the Empire of Japan was ignored (Huang 2006: 167).17 In other words, there was hardly any historical memory that could be shared between the people of Taiwan and the people of the KMT who came to Taiwan as winners of an anti-Japanese war. Moreover, at that time, the KMT was embroiled in the civil war with the Chinese Communist Party, and many intellectuals who had grown up in Japan were suspected of being security risks and were arrested or assassinated. For this reason, the Taiwanese people gained the impression that the island’s takeover by the KMT merely represented a new colonial rule. As noted previously, in examining the decolonisation of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō, one must put into perspective the complex historical perceptions of the local people as a result of being ruled by multiple foreign regimes. However, there appears to have been only minimal anthropological research on both regions from this perspective. There have been studies exploring the experience of multiple imperial domination, such as Azuma’s (2005) historiography of the Japanese American experience, which examines the impact of these two centres of empire, Japan and the United States, on immigrant identity. Camacho’s (2011) comparative examination of the impact of multiple regimes on the experiences of people in the Northern Mariana Islands and Guam is noteworthy. However, Camacho’s approach in some respect differs from ours, given that it is a historical study and that Guam, except for war time, was not governed by Japan. Our study compares

Introduction  9 the multi-layered colonial experiences of people on the periphery of the Japanese Empire from the perspective of cultural anthropology. It is unique in terms of both ethnographic data collection and comparative analysis.

Considering multi-layered foreign powers in post-colonial historical anthropology There is no doubt that the colonial rule under Western imperialism violently changed and destroyed the cultures of those ruled under the guise of ‘the civilising mission’. Anthropology has long served as an accomplice of colonialism, in so much as the cultures of the previously dominated have been relegated to the category of ‘traditional’ and contrasted with ‘modern’ societies. There are many customs among what anthropologists have described as ‘traditions’ that were in fact created and fabricated for the convenience of colonial rulers. For example, Varna, the four social classifications in Indian society, and Jati, based on occupation, territory and kinship relationship, were originally flexible and fluid institutions and organisations; however, under colonial rule, India was understood to be a fixed hierarchical society organised by a ‘caste system’, regarded as a regressive mode of social organisation (Channa 2005). This understanding reinforced the image of the ruled peoples as ‘others’ who needed the British to bring them the light of ‘civilisation’. Since Said’s (1978) expositions on ‘Orientalism’ and the ‘writing culture shock’ touched off by Clifford and Marcus (1986), contemporary anthropologists have been paying closer attention to the cultural creations devised by those ruled themselves during colonisation and decolonisation processes. Most colonial subjects did not necessarily dare to resist domination; neither did they passively obey. However, they incorporated the dominant culture into their life strategies and then skilfully transformed the policies imposed by the colonial rulers to make them more convenient for their lives. For example, Sahlins pointed out in Islands of History that the Hawaiian people extemporaneously took the others’ puzzling practices into their own cultural structure and argued that changes were brought about even as historical events were regulated and interpreted by the traditional cultural structure (Sahlins 1987). Although Sahlins focused on early pre-colonial contacts between Hawaiians and the West, his analysis of the performative acts practised by the local community after contacting foreigners is also applicable to the colonial and post-colonial periods. By examining their actions, it is possible to elucidate how the ruled perceived the rulers and how their way of thinking and culture changed while acting in accordance with the traditional cultural framework. However, Thomas rejected Sahlins’ dichotomy between the ruler and the ruled and posited the view that the ‘entanglement’ of both would build the culture of the ruled (Thomas 1990, 1991). Similarly, Dening (2004) proposed that even amidst imbalances in power relations such as colonial conditions and post-colonial conditions, both Western and non-Western countries make history by occupying and appropriating the culture of the other party.

10  Yuko MIO A number of studies of colonial Taiwan have considered how the ruled used, appropriated or eliminated ‘Japan’ in their living spaces. Non-revolutionary generals did not necessarily fully resist or, conversely, obey colonial domination, but rather, they faced the ruler in an invisible manner, sometimes unconsciously, utilising resistance and submission as appropriate (Mio 2006a; Mio ed. 2006b; Igarashi and Mio eds. 2006; Ueno and Mio eds. 2011). On Palau society, Iitaka (2009) clarified that Japan attempted to build an easily controlled subordinate by giving the ruled in Palau only a low level of Japanese culture useful for its own designs; however, the ruled disrupted the discipline and norms of the colonial power by imitating the ruler more than was intended. This imitation was referred to as mimicry by Bhabha (1984). Like those mentioned earlier, such arguments would be affiliated with a ‘post-colonial theory’ that strongly emphasised the hybridity of cultures. The ruled were not unilaterally controlled; rather, both the culture of the ruler and that of the ruled are deconstructed as a result of mutual negotiations. In such a space, the dichotomy of the ruler and the ruled is dismantled. However, the hybridity perspective seems to render the power asymmetry between the ruler and the ruled all but invisible (Yoshioka 2005). Moreover, in cases when another foreign government arrives after the first colonial power has left, the hybrid nature of the culture built by the people under the previous government tends to be devalued as evidence of slavery rooted in evil. If the culture built under the previous government has been denied by a new foreign government, can they build a new hybrid culture that results in the entanglement of their constructed culture and that of the new ruler?

Chapter outlines Our book discusses these issues from case studies of Taiwan, Palau, and the Marshall Islands. In the first chapter, Ueno discusses the actual situation of ‘Japanisation’ of the lifeworld in colonial Taiwan and Taiwanese views of Japanese rule after the end of the colonial period. The first issue is analysed on the basis of the changes in Taiwanese daily life and the contents of school education said to have promoted ‘Japanisation’. The ‘Japanisation’ of domestic life and the penetration of Japanese traditional customs were limited. ‘Japanisation’ in education included not only a nationalist element but also moral ethics and modern knowledge. Only the latter two elements contribute to the development of a positive view of Japan among those educated in the Japanese administrative era. The second issue is the Taiwanese perspective regarding Japanese rule and education after the colonial period as their self-recognition in the midst of Taiwan’s drastic change. The main sources for this discussion are narratives of women who experienced Japanese education. To clarify the situation of ‘Japanisation’ in Taiwan, this chapter refers to the education in Nan’yō Guntō under Japanese rule and its evaluation in the post-war era from the comparative point of view. It points out the uniqueness of the colonial situation in Taiwan and the homogeneity in being controlled by a foreign power after the end of colonial rule.

Introduction  11 In Chapter 2, Mita draws on interviews in Palau to examine how those who have experienced the multi-layered colonial rule of Japan and the United States have confronted their colonial past. Instead of reducing their narratives to hasty generalities, Mita stays close to the past experiences that each of them recalls in the ‘Place of Reminiscence’. From their various narrative fragments, Mita clarifies that Palauans tried to take in new customs or culture introduced by each coloniser, and in this process, their understandings of the authentic Palauan tradition were changed. What she revealed from the narratives of two elderly men was their definite identities as proud Palauans. In Chapter 3, Ishigaki examines how the Bunun people, an indigenous people of Taiwan, who originally inhabited the highlands and consistently resisted colonial rule, perceive their history of Japanese and ROC rule. Based on when and how they experienced foreign rule, this chapter classifies the Bunun into four generations and illustrates the reactions to the Japanese rule and views of ‘Japan’ among generations. The chapter further discusses the changes and similarities of reactions towards the foreign rulers and indicates the rise of ‘indigenism’ among the third and fourth generations. What is significant are the relations between the situations in which foreign rules were experienced and the people’s reactions to them. According to Ishigaki, the Bunun’s reactions to Japan, such as aggressive riots and nostalgia of their youth, are related not only to their culture but also to the situations in which they faced foreign rule. He also investigates the characteristics of Bunun’s attitudes to Japan and Japanese language, compared to Han people who were able to utilise the coloniser’s language and culture for upward social mobility and the pursuit of economic interests in post-war Taiwan. In Chapter 4, Nishimura’s study deals with the Han Chinese and indigenous inhabitants of a rural town born mainly in the 1920s and labelled by Nishimura as the ‘Crossover Generation’. They had received Japanised education and witnessed the reign of two foreign authorities: the Imperial Japanese government and the KMT government. They had also lived through two social-moulding programmes – ‘Japanisation’ and Sinicisation (or ROC-ification) – and been forced to accept the governing ideals of both foreign authorities through the two official languages imposed. Nishimura’s chapter investigates the Taiwanese people’s way of life influenced by the confluence of those two regimes. He clarifies that living under two different foreign authorities forced people of the ‘Crossover Generation’ to deal with a variety of life conditions to conform to the ideals of both governing regimes. In particular, he insists that it was impossible for them to independently build their lives without pretending to adhere to the ideals of the foreign authorities. In Chapter 5, Fujino discusses a Protestant senior citizens’ home in Taipei called Gyokulansou (玉蘭荘), where two types of Japanese speakers gather. The first group consists of those educated under Japanese rule before the war and unable to express themselves adequately without the use of the Japanese language, while the second group consists of Japanese wives of husbands from Taiwan. They had been unable to return to Japan during the chaotic period after World War II and had, instead, settled in Taiwan. These women share the experience of having lost

12  Yuko MIO their nation, language, identity, and land and blood relations during Japanese colonial and post-war KMT rule. Fujino analyses the institution’s newsletters and points out that, for them, Gyokulansou is a ‘Japanese space’, which is not just a space where the women can communicate with each other and receive care in Japanese but also a space that is only possible because of the spirit of Christianity. Although there have been many studies on the Japanese-educated generation in Taiwan, Fujino’s study offers an unprecedented perspective on the meaning of Christianity, a religion (considered from a Japanese perspective to be) of Western origin, for those who primarily use the Japanese language in their thinking. In Chapter 6, Iitaka considers the activities of Palau Sakura Kai (パラオサ クラ会) organised by the ‘Nikkei’ in the mid-1960s. The association consists of Palauans born to Japanese men and local Palauan women. He critically examines the discourse ‘Palau = pro-Japanese’ that became apparent in post-war Japan. At first glance, this association appears to be engaged in ‘pro-Japanese’ activities, such as hosting the Japanese group visiting sites where Japanese soldiers died. Post-war Japanese tended to interpret the goodwill of the ‘Nikkei’ as an expression of one-sided pro-Japanese sentiment. However, they did not profess it only for the sake of the Japanese but also to find their own relatives in Japan, and to overcome the various hardships in their lives caused by discrimination due to their Japanese blood heritage and the absence of paternal relatives in Palau during and after the war. Iitaka concludes that their self-consciousness is rather dependent on the position and environment in which they were placed in post-war Palau, and that they remain connected to the Japanese group for instrumental reasons. In Chapter 7, Kamizuru analyses the current state of utilisation of buildings in Taiwan built during the Japanese colonial period. With reference to the cases of Korea and the Nan’yō Guntō, he classifies Japanese colonial-era buildings into four types based on their present state. The state of ‘externalisation’ represents buildings that have either been destroyed or are not maintained in Taiwan. ‘Negative internalisation’ represents those preserved as part of a negative historical narrative. ‘Positive internalisation’ represents buildings built under Japanese rule and are now utilised to differentiate Taiwan from other countries, such as China and South Korea. The final classification is ‘de-Japanisation’, in which buildings are utilised as stylish restaurants or cafés irrespective of their colonial history. Through this analysis, he argues that in Taiwan, the view of ‘Japan’ has been assumed, selected, and changed in response to the demands of Taiwanese society. In Chapter 8, Kurosaki takes two monuments erected by the Japanese government on Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands as examples and examines how the local people perceive ‘Japan’ under the control of two regimes: Japan and the United States. It is significant that in contrast to the intention of the Japanese side, the people of Majuro Atoll have associated the two monuments with the economic development led by Japan for the local community. Based on an interpretation of the two monuments, Kurosaki posits that, firstly, the monuments have the unique power of evocation without historical context. In other words, the existence of Japanese-built monuments leads to a thought linked to Japan’s contribution to the economic development of Majuro. Secondly, the locals’ discourse has been

Introduction  13 closely connected to the US governance policy for Micronesia since post–World War II. Ri-Mājro (Majuro people) take a negative view of American influence permeating the local community. This tendency is strongly reflected by those educated in the Japanese era. The view of Japanese conjured by ri-Mājro is considered to have been generated through the emotional backlash from US policy and administration. In Chapter 9, Miyaoka illuminates the difficulties experienced by indigenous peoples in the post-war remembrance of colonial events. For the investigation, her study focuses on the realm of memory of those involved in the Mudanshe (牡丹社 Botansha in Japanese) Incident, a historical event that represented the first contact between the Paiwan, one of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples, and Japanese colonialism. This realm of memory includes monuments built during the Japanese occupation, commemorative events led by post-war mainstream society, school textbook descriptions, and monuments built by Paiwan people themselves. According to Miyaoka, the analysis reveals two issues. Firstly, political democratisation has allowed mainstream society to negotiate historical perceptions with the state. However, indigenous peoples had little opportunity to participate in negotiating the creation of a ‘national history’. Their historical perceptions and memories were mostly overlooked. Secondly, when the indigenous peoples themselves reconstruct history, the Chinese language and Chinese way of commemoration are mandatory. That is, they are prevented from exercising their own cultural agency in negotiating with mainstream society. It is often pointed out that people in Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō are currently extremely friendly towards Japan.18 Those who have had to accept a ruler’s culture for self-fulfilment might need to affirm the knowledge and values acquired in the former regime in order to live in the new regime, even if the new foreign government has denied the language and culture obtained under the previous government. However, this desire for self-affirmation cannot easily be expressed within society. Therefore, ‘Japan’, which has already been externalised as the loser, might in discourse be flattered in encounters with Japanese. In this book, the way the people of Taiwan and Nan’yō Guntō perceive ‘Japan’ will be clarified on the assumption that their favourable sentiments towards the Japan may be contextualised on the basis of the given historical background. Additionally, it will be necessary to carefully consider how the democratisation of Taiwan, the ‘independence’ of the islands of the former Nan’yō Guntō, and the changeover to the post-imperial cohorts from the experience of the Japanese generation will influence recognition of history and ‘Japan’ in these regions in the future.

Notes 1 Whereas Taiwan became a colony on cession to the Japanese by the Qing Dynasty, Nan’yō Guntō was legally a mandated territory of the League of Nations. However, like other mandated territories of the League of Nations, Nan’yō Guntō’s transfer to Japanese rule was de facto a ‘disguised annexation’ or form of ‘enlightened colonialism’ (Tomatsu 2007). This book does not discuss the legal status of each place but

14  Yuko MIO rather focuses on issues of political, economic, and cultural domination and control; thus, the term ‘colonial’ is also used in the case of Nan’yō Guntō. 2 There is no intention to argue that the colonies dominated by the West lacked civilisation or were not in contact with Western civilisation until colonisation. The author’s intention will further be discussed in the next section. 3 Numazaki (2014) indicated the existence of a two-layer socio-political structure in Taiwan comprised of foreign rulers and the local inhabitants from the time of Dutch rule and extending through the administration of Coxinga and his descendants, the Qing Dynasty, Japanese domination, and KMT rule until the death of Chiang Kaishek. Moreover, there was a binary structure between the Han people and indigenous people of Taiwan (Numazaki 2014). However, indigenous people’s contact with foreign governments varied over time, and Japan was the first power to uniformly place indigenous people throughout Taiwan under its hegemony. 4 In this chapter, Japan is used when it indicates the country name, physical territory, and governing body, whereas ‘Japan’ refers to cultural representations and views of Japan. 5 One possible reason for the paucity of anthropological research into the decolonisation of these regions is the problem of the language in which people speak of their colonial experiences and of their experiences under the new post-war foreign regime. For example, there are matters that cannot be discussed in English with Americans, and there are experiences at the hands of the former colonial power that cannot be mentioned in the presence of Japanese. This suggests the refractive nature of the colonial experience due to multi-layered foreign rule. We hope that more Western researchers will conduct research in this region in the future to facilitate comparison with the results of our research. 6 According to Kawashima (2009), Korea also shares some commonalities with Taiwan since the former nation was decolonised by a dictatorship under the strong influence of the United States, although the Koreans themselves took power after the war. 7 A similar view may be applicable in the cases of Northeast China and South Sakhalin. However, these areas are not covered in this book, since it falls outside the scope of this work. 8 In this regard, Kamizuru (Chapter 7) approaches the relationship between Japan and China in terms of cultural superiority and cultural similarity. 9 Sakura Magozo (1860–1941), who came to Taiwan as a colonial official at the very beginning of the Japanese occupation in 1895, published a compilation of essays describing customs he observed during his stay in Taifu Zakki (1903). This text seems to have been written as a reference book for the colonial administration; however, it is significant that it was originally written in kanbun. It is unclear how many people ever read this book at the time of publication; however, a Taiwanese reporter was among the reviewers for each of Sakura’s depictions, suggesting the possibility that kanbun was used as a communication tool between locals and Japanese. It also appears that Sakura might have used kanbun to show that he had been highly educated in a world that values Chinese civilisation (Sakura 2009). 10 A major difference between European written languages and ideograph-based ­languages such as Chinese and Japanese is that because European languages are composed of phonetic characters, anyone may learn advanced technologies and abstract ideas by learning only dozens of characters; on the other hand, it is difficult for people in Chinese civilisation to acquire such higher-order concepts without learning kanji. 11 There were very few intellectuals among Indigenous people of Taiwan. Among them, Losing Watan, an Atayal leader, graduated from the Government-General Office Medical School, and Uyongu Yata’uyungana was a Tsou musician and educator. According to Higuchi’s study (Higuchi 1993, cited in Mita 2008: 87), some Palauans complained, ‘Even though we are better at Japanese than Okinawans and Koreans, why aren’t we granted the rights granted to them?’ Japanese-Palauan mixed-race children who

Introduction  15 learned to read kanji through secondary and tertiary education and returned to Palau after the war were respected for this skill (personal communication from Professor Endo Hisashi). Japanese language education was based on the premise that it be sufficient to be able to perform auxiliary work under the direction of the Japanese, and as such, high value was attributed to those who could read kanji. 12 The idea of including neighbouring nations in Japan dates to ancient times. For example, since the sixteenth century, the theory that Japanese and Ryukyuans share a similar ancestry was proposed. Moreover, this theory was not unilaterally imposed on the Ryukyus by Japan but had been argued by the Ryukyus as well (Watanabe 2001). From the Edo period, a theory was also advocated that the peoples of Japan and the Korean Peninsula had a common ancestor, which formed the basis of Japan’s justification of its invasion of Korea during the Meiji Era. 13 A similar example is seen in the Minzoku Taiwan (Taiwan Folklore) magazine, published in Taiwan during World War II. Kanaseki Takeo, the magazine’s editor, used folktales of Bougainville Island as a basis for arguing that Japan and Bougainville belonged to the same narrative cultural sphere due to similarities between their ancient traditions, and therefore, it was inappropriate to leave the island under American or Australian control (Mio 2005). 14 However, even in cases in which the formerly ruled people have become the sovereigns of the newly independent state, if that state includes diverse ethnicities and diverse social classes, then we may not ignore the fact that some minority groups will be marginalised. 15 According to a study by Higuchi (Higuchi 1993; also cited in Mita 2008), this situation made many Palauans who had received Japanese language education nostalgic about Japan. 16 For example, see Oda (2007: 47). Even Ke De-san, who later sought Taiwan’s independence, wrote in his autobiography that ‘When the National Party came, . . . everyone was delighted to have returned to their homeland’ (Ke 2005: 207). 17 In Taiwan, there are dozens of cases of Japanese soldiers being deified and worshipped. This does not, however, indicate that the Taiwanese people revere Japanese rule. The memory of fighting World War II as Japanese, which is not recorded in national history, is embedded in folk beliefs (Mio 2017). 18 It has been pointed out that Japanese people seek such discourse.

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16  Yuko MIO Ching, Leo. (2001) Becoming “Japanese”: Colonial Taiwan and the Politics of Identity Formation. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Clifford, James and G.E. Marcus, eds. (1986) Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography: A School of American Research Advanced Seminar. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Cooper, Frederick. (2005) Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Dening, Greg. (2004) Beach Crossings: Voyaging Across Times, Cultures, and Self. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Endo, Hisashi 遠藤央. (1999) ‘Battle of Representation: Orientalism in Palau, Micronesia’ 表象のたたかい―ミクロネシア、パラオをめぐるオリエンタリズム. In Naoki Kasuga 春日直樹, ed., Oceanian Orientalism オセアニア・オリエンタリズ ム. Kyoto: Sekaishisosha, pp. 83–103. ———. (2002) Palau as a Political Space: Social Anthropological Approach to the Modernity of Islands 政治空間としてのパラオ―島嶼の近代への社会人類学的ア プローチ. Kyoto: Sekaishisosha. ———. (2013) ‘The Beginning of the “Postwar Period”, Japan and the United States of America as Un-decolonized Alien Powers to Micronesia (former Nan’yo gunto)’. Reports from the Faculty of Social Relations, 15:1–9. Hanlon, David. (2014) Making Micronesia: A Political Biography of Tosiwo Nakayama. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Hashiya, Hiroshi 橋谷弘. (1991) ‘What Modern Japan Did and Left in Colonies’ 近代日 本は植民地で何をし、何を残したのか. In Ryuji Sasaki 佐々木隆爾, ed., Points of Contention, Japanese History 6 The Modern and Present Era 争点　日本の歴史　６ 　近・現代編. Tokyo: Shinjinbutsu Oraisha, pp. 262–273. He, Yi-lin 何義麟. (2003) 2.28 Incident -Ethnopolitics of “Taiwanese” Formation 二・二 八事件―「台湾人」形成のエスノポリティクス. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. Higuchi, Wakako. (1993) Islander’s Japanese Assimilation and Their Sense of Discrimination. Mangilao: Micronesian Studies, Micronesian Area Research Center, University of Guam. Hirano, Chikako 平野千果子. (2002) History of French Colonialism: From the Abolition of Slavery to the Collapse of the Colonial Empire フランス植民地主義の歴史―奴隷 制廃止から植民地帝国の崩壊まで. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin. Huang, Chih-huei 黄智慧. (2006) ‘Views of Japan as Reflected in Taiwanese Writings on Nihon Bunkaron’ 台湾における「日本文化論」に見られる対日観. Journal of Asian and African Studies アジア・アフリカ言語文化研究, 71:147–168. ———. (2010) ‘Multilayer Structure in Post-colonial Taiwan: Japan and China’ ポスト コロニアル台湾における重層構造―日本と中華. In Mitsuru Nishikawa 西川満 and Hsin-huang Hsiao 蕭新煌, eds., Japan and Taiwan in the New Era of East Asia 東アジ ア新時代の日本と台湾. Tokyo: Akashishoten, pp. 159–193. Igarashi, Masako 五十嵐真子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds. (2006) ‘Japan’ in the Postwar Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilisation of Colonial Experience 戦後台 湾における〈日本〉―植民地経験の連続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha. Iitaka, Shingo 飯髙伸五. (2009) Palauans’ Colonial Experiences under the Japanese Administration: An Approach by Historical Anthropology 旧南洋群島パラオにお ける日本統治経験の歴史人類学的研究. Ph. D. dissertation (Tokyo Metropolitan University). Imaizumi, Yumiko 今泉裕美子. (2015) ‘Good and Bad Aspects of Christianity: Transformation of Consciousness Brought about by Colonial Rule’ キリスト教の功と罪―植

Introduction  17 民地支配がもたらした意識の変容. In Michiko Into 印東道子, ed., 60 Chapters to Understand Micronesia, 2nd edition ミクロネシアを知るための60章 第2版. Tokyo: Akashishoten, pp. 75–79. Kawashima, Shin 川島真. (2009) ‘Institutional “De-imperialisation” of Japan in the Early Post-war Period and Historical Recognition Problems: Focusing on Taiwan’ 戦後初期 日本の制度的「脱帝国化」と歴史認識問題―台湾を中心に. In Yoko Nagahara 永 原陽子, ed., The Discussion on Colonial Responsibility 植民地責任論. Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, pp. 393–417. Ke, De-san 柯徳三. (2005) The Mother Country is Japan, the Fatherland is Taiwan: A Confession of a Taiwanese Who Thinks in Japanese 母国は日本、祖国は台湾―或 る日本語族台湾人の告白. Tokyo: Sakuranohana Shuppan. Kibata, Yoichi 木畑洋一. (2008) The British Empire and Imperialism イギリス帝国と帝 国主義. Tokyo: Yushisha. Kosugi, Yasushi 小杉泰. (1994) What Is Islam? Its Religion, Society and Culture イスラ ームとは何か―その宗教・社会・文化. Tokyo: Kodansha. Leclerc, Gérard. (1972) Anthropologie et Colonialisme: Essai sur l’Histoire de l’Africanisme. Paris: Libairie Arthème Fayard. Liao, Ping-hui and David Der-wei Wang, eds. (2006) Taiwan under Japanese Colonial Rule, 1895–1945: History, Culture, Memory. New York: Columbia University Press. Matsui, Toru 松井透. (1968) ‘Modern Western View of Asia and Colonial Domination’ 近 代西欧のアジア観と植民地支配論. Shiso 思想, 530:37–56. Mio, Yuko 三尾裕子. (2005) ‘ “Minzoku Taiwan” and the Great East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere’ 『民俗台湾』と大東亜共栄圏. In Toshihiko Kishi 貴志俊彦, Yasunori Arano 荒野泰典, and Hidemasa Kokaze 小風秀雅, eds., The Atmosphere of ‘East Asia’ 「東 アジア」の時代性. Hiroshima: Keisuisha, pp. 144–160. ———. (2006a) ‘Possibility of Heterogeneous Narratives in the Japanese Colonial Period: A Case Study of “Minzoku Taiwan” ’ 植民地下の「グレーゾーン」における「異質 化の語り」の可能性―『民俗台湾』を例に. Journal of Asian and African Studies アジア・アフリカ言語文化研究, 71:181–203. ———, ed. (2006b) ‘ Recognition of Japan in Taiwan’ 〈特集〉台湾に おける日本認識. Journal of Asian and African Studies アジア・アフリカ言語文化 研究, 71:41–203. ———. (2017) ‘Domestication of Colonial and War Experience: A Case Study of a Japanese Deified in Taiwan’ 植民地経験、戦争経験を「飼いならす」―日本人を神に 祀る信仰を事例に―. Nihon Taiwan Gakkaihou 日本台湾学会報, 19:14–28. Mita, Maki 三田牧. (2008) ‘Remembering Colonial Experiences: Palauan Elders’ Stories of Being Educated as Imperial People, and Being Discriminated against as Islanders’ 想起される植民地経験―「島民」と「皇民」をめぐるパラオ人の 語り. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 国立民族学博物館研究報告, 33(1):81–133. ———. (2011) ‘What Hijikata Hisakatsu Saw in “Bunka no Hate”?’ 土方久功は「文化 の果」に何を見たか. In Katsuhiko Yamaji 山路勝彦, ed., Japanese Anthropology: Colonialism, Study of Other Cultures, and History of Academic Research 日本の人 類学―植民地主義、異文化研究、学術調査の歴史. Nishinomiya: K.G. University Press, pp. 253–297. Morris, Andrew D., ed. (2015) Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury. Myers, Ramon and Mark R. Peattie, eds. (1984) The Japanese Colonial Empire, 1895– 1945. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

18  Yuko MIO Narangoa, Li and Robert Cribb, eds. (2003) Imperial Japan and National Identities in Asia, 1895–1945. London: Routledge Curzon. Numazaki, Ichiro 沼崎一郎. (2014) Formation and Transformation of Taiwanese Society: from Dual /Double Layer Structure to Multiple/Multi-layer Structure 台湾社会の形成 と変容―二元・二層構造から多元・多層構造へ. Sendai: Tohoku University Press. Oda, Shigeru 小田滋. (2007) ‘Taiwan, as a Sovereign and Independent Country: Taiwan’s Status under International Law’ 主権独立国家の「台湾」―「台湾」の国際法上の 地位―. Transactions of the Japan Academy 日本學士院紀要, 62(1):43–68. Parry, Benita. (1994) ‘Resistance Theory: Theorising Resistance or Two Cheers for Nativism’. In Barker, F., P. Hulme, and M. Iversen, eds., Colonial Discourse: Postcolonial Theory. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Peattie, Mark. (1988) Nan’Yō: The Rise and Fall of the Japanese in Micronesia, 1885– 1945. Honolulu: Center for Pacific Island Studies. Sahlins, Marshall. (1987) Islands of History. London: Tavistock. Said, Edward. (1978) Orientalism. London: Routledge. Sakura, Magozo 佐倉孫三. (2009) Taifu Zakki: Customs in Taiwan 100 Years Ago 臺風 雜記―百年前の台湾風俗. Tokyo: ILCAA, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, first published in 1903 Tokyo: Kokko Publishing Company. Thomas, Nicholas. (1990) ‘Partial Texts: Representation, Colonialism and Agency in Pacific History’. The Journal of Pacific History, 25(2):139–158. ———. (1991) Entangled Object: Exchange, Material Culture and Colonialism in the Pacific. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Tierney, Robert Thomas. (2010) Tropics of Savagery: The Culture of Japanese Empire in Comparative Frame. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Tomatsu, Haruo 等松春夫. (2007) ‘Changes in Sovereignty and International Management of the Nan’yō Guntō’ 南洋群島の主権と国際的管理の変遷. In The Research Project of ‘Japanese Colonial Empire seen from International Relations’, Institute of Social Science, Chukyo University 中京大学社会学研究所 国際関係から見た植民 地帝国日本研究プロジェクト, ed., Nan’yō Guntō  seen from Empire and International Order 南洋群島と帝国・国際秩序. Nagoya: Institute of Social Science, Chukyo University, pp. 21–56. Ueno, Hiroko 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds. (2011) Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾に おける＜植民地＞経験―日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha. Wakabayashi, Masahiro 若林正丈. (2007) ‘Multi-layered Decolonization and Multiculturalism in Taiwan’ 台湾の重層的脱植民地化と多文化主義. In Masataka Suzuki 鈴木 正崇, ed., Modern East Asia and Japan 東アジアの近代と日本. Keio Institute of East Asian Studies, pp. 199–236. Watanabe, Kyoichi 渡辺匤一. (2001) ‘Tracing for the Tale of Tametomo’s Trip to Ryukyu: Inconsistency of Historical Awareness, Nations, Regions, and People’ 為朝渡琉譚のゆ くえ―齟齬する歴史認識と国家、地域、そして人. Japanese Literature 日本文学, 50(1):19–27. Yamaji, Katsuhiko 山路勝彦. (2004) Taiwan’s Colonial Rule: The Development of the Discourse of 台湾の植民地統治―〈無主の野蛮人〉という言 説の展開―. Tokyo: Nihon Tosho Centre. Yoshioka, Masanori 吉岡政徳. (2005) Anti-postcolonial Anthropology: Melanesian People Living in Postcolonial Era 反・ポストコロニアル人類学―ポストコロニアル を生きるメラネシア. Tokyo: Fukyosha.

Part I

Recognition of the Japanese colonial era

1 The ‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld during and after the colonial period With reference to Nan’yō Guntō Hiroko UENO Introduction When Japanese colonial rule in Taiwan began, the majority of those ruled had a traditional civilisation, considered superior to that of their rulers, but then, ‘assimilation’ was promoted to make the Taiwanese people resemble the Japanese to a greater extent. Currently, Taiwan is said to be ‘pro-Japanese’. Japanese goods are abundant and Japanese words and phrases appear in commercials, the media and everyday Taiwanese conversations. Taiwanese perceptions of its colonial rule and former suzerain reflect a complex relationship between Japanese and East Asian people that cannot be easily summarised. It is necessary to explore the actual situation of ‘Japanisation’ in Taiwanese daily life under colonial rule and the Taiwanese view of Japanese rule over time. In this chapter, ‘Japanisation’ is defined as an attempt to change the people of the colonies into those culturally similar to or culturally identified with the Japanese. This is a comprehensive term for changes based on assimilation and the kōminka (皇民化 making imperial subjects of the people through cultural assimilation) policy. The main research data in this chapter are the narratives of women who received Japanese education and experienced the period of Japanese rule, the Kuomingtang (KMT) era and democratisation. The two main points covered in this chapter are as follows. The first point is a clarification of the actual situation of ‘Japanisation’ of the lifeworld of the Taiwanese.1 The Government-General of Taiwan maintained traditional customs at the beginning of the ruling period, but subsequently, through ‘expansionism of the suzerain’ (内地延長主義) and the kōminka movement, the people were forced to be ‘Japanese’. This ‘Japanisation’ was not simple for the Taiwanese people. For example, Leo Ching explores, through political movements, literature, etc., the conflicts over identity of Taiwanese people and the concealment of inequality with Japanese in the process of assimilation and kōminka. He also insists on considering the conflicts of their identity from the viewpoint of China’s existence (Ching 2001). In addition, ‘Japanisation’ and Japanese education are not only significantly different between the Han people and the indigenous peoples of Taiwan but also differ according to the hierarchy (e.g. Fong 2006; Wu 2010). Such ‘Japanisation’ has been widely researched, but materials are still

22  Hiroko UENO insufficient to show how it entered people’s actual lives, or whether there was any significant change in their lifestyles. Therefore, in this chapter, through an analysis of interview data from women who grew up during the colonial period, the author reveals the reality of the ‘Japanisation’ of daily life and the introduction of ‘Japanese-style’ thinking and customs based on Japan’s unique lifestyle and feelings. School education played a major role in promoting ‘Japanisation’. Lin Maosheng (Mosei)’s work, an excellent study written during the period of Japanese rule, comprehensively discusses school education in Taiwan and points out that education for Taiwanese was intended to assimilate them through Japanese language education. Paradoxically, Japan’s ‘modern’ education never respected personality or emphasised the natural power of the learner (Lin 1929). Previous studies have pointed out that Japanese education created Taiwanese who could understand Japanese and contribute to Japanese governance (cf. Tsurumi 1977). In addition, Hsu Pei-hsien points out that modern colonial Taiwanese schools absorbed modern Western civilisation and created a basis for the modernisation of Taiwan. It appeared to be a paradise full of charm and freshness for children but was actually a labyrinth for Taiwanese people. For suzerain Japan, it was a place to create human resources for Japan, as well as colonial governance and industrial development (Hsu 2005). Previous studies have shown that the concept of ‘modern’ has important implications for colonial rule (cf. Barlow ed. 1997; Cooper 2005), but it is necessary to further consider the uniqueness of colonial modernity in Taiwan (e.g. Komagome 2003; Wakabayashi and Wu eds. 2004). ‘Modernity’ in colonial education, as Lin (1929) indicates, was not modern thought emphasising the individual but was only modern in terms of scientific and economic development. Another important point regarding education in Taiwan is that it shared a ‘morality’ based on Confucian ethics with the Han people of colonial Taiwan. It was thus easy to claim equivalence and similarity. It should also be noted that education from such an ethical perspective was acceptable. The second point is clarifying the logic of evaluation by those who experienced the ‘Japanisation’. In particular, the view of education, which is said to have created the ‘Japanisation’, and the recognition of changes in daily life will be discussed, based on the narratives of Taiwanese people. After Japanese colonial rule, Taiwan again experienced rule by a foreign power. This chapter will depict Taiwanese self-recognition from the perspective of those who were released from that spell. This theme cannot be explained without mentioning the political system created after Japanese colonial rule, as well as the political and social changes in Taiwanese society. When the people of Taiwan were ruled by the KMT as a foreign power, ‘Taiwan’ existed as a part of China, and the Japanese colonial rule was defined as violent imperial governance based on ideological criticism. One view is that the actual situation of colonial Taiwan was not discussed. During the democratisation and Bentuhua (本土化),2 the people of Taiwan came to consider their own history, and the study of the period of Japanese rule became the study of the history of Taiwan. Much research has already been undertaken on these changes, and nostalgia for the colonial period by Taiwanese elders has

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  23 received attention (Makeham 2005; Morris 2015a). In addition, Japanese Taiwan, edited by Andrew D. Morris, explores the links between the colonial period and Taiwan’s contemporary culture. It discusses the connection between Taiwan and Japan through baseball, Japanese colonial Taiwan as depicted in Taiwanese films, the use of Japanese aesthetics and sense in political activities such as elections, and the culture linked to coffee shops during the colonial period (Morris ed. 2015b). Therefore, the question is, how we evaluate Japan’s ‘legacy’ across many aspects of Taiwanese culture, politics, and life, and how we understand its relationship with China. This chapter focuses on how Taiwanese people evaluate themselves through the education and changes in daily life during Japanese rule. To clarify these points, the education conducted in Nan’yō Guntō and its evaluation are worth exploring. Although Nan’yō Guntō was ranked as more ‘savage’ than Taiwan by Japan, the ‘modern’ was an important element of ‘Japanisation’ education efforts for Micronesian children. Moreover, the post-war regime in Micronesia, established by the United States as another foreign power after Japan’s colonial rule, created commonality with the situation in Taiwan, where the ‘Japanisation’ and Japanese education were also reinterpreted under KMT rule.

‘Japanisation’ in the school education system in colonial Taiwan It has been recognised that schooling forced the ‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese people. Loyalty to the Japanese nation and the emperor was cultivated through education based on kōkokushikan (皇国史観 emperor-centred historical view). However, to understand the actual situation of ‘Japanisation’ in education, it is necessary to consider how original Japanese customs were taught and the particular aspects of the so-called ‘modern’ thought introduced to the education system.3 Primary education in colonial Taiwan In colonial Taiwan, primary education school systems existed as: kōgakkō (公学校 state primary schools for Taiwanese) and shōgakkō (小学校 state primary schools for Japanese).4 At both schools, the subject of shūshin (修身 moral training) was the core of education, which taught morals and ethics. Especially at kōgakkō, it had great significance regarding the ‘Japanisation’ of Taiwanese pupils. The educational purpose of shūshin was based on kyōikuchokugo (教育勅語 Imperial Rescript on Education), teaching morality and manners, and seeking to instil loyalty to the nation and the emperor. However, kyōikuchokugo itself was based on Confucian thought, and the morality preached through shūshin was that all, not just the Japanese, should adhere to it. Many illustrations showing the courtesy expected from Taiwanese children were contained in the shūshin textbooks (cf. The Government-General of Taiwan 1913–1941); it was not intended to teach courtesy in the original Japanese way. Concerning modern thought, hygiene issues were often cited in shūshin and kokugo (国語 Japanese as the national language) textbooks (cf. The

24  Hiroko UENO Government-General of Taiwan 1913–1941, 2003). In the textbooks, pupils were encouraged to keep their body, clothes, and house clean, and to be careful about public sanitation. Therefore, the subject of ‘cleaning’ was often taken up in the textbooks. This was based on the premise that Taiwan was still unsanitary, and in order to improve the situation, modern concepts of hygiene were being introduced, not original Japanese customs. Secondary education in colonial Taiwan The acquisition of Japanese-style customs and the modification of life were forced on the higher social class in particular; this can be seen in the secondary education subjects that children of the upper and upper-middle class were taught. Since 1922, the coeducation of Taiwanese and Japanese had been a fundamental principle, but the ethnic ratio of students differed by school, depending on whether the school previously attended had been exclusively for Japanese or Taiwanese. Regarding the rules for male secondary education for Taiwanese in 1919, there was an article that required basic courtesy to be taught in shūshin classes. However, the rules for chūgakkō (中学校 male junior high school) for coeducation in 1922 did not mention courtesy. In the revised rules of 1933, education in basic courtesy was included again ‘because students who have different customs study together’ (Taiwan Educational Association ed. 1939: 789); that is, since Taiwanese students who needed to learn Japanese manners were in the same classrooms as Japanese, basic courtesy had to be taught in shūshin subjects. On the other hand, the rules for female secondary education for the Taiwanese in 1919 included an article stipulating that basic courtesy was to be taught through the shūshin subject; this was similar to males, but the rules for kōtōjogakkō (高等女学校 female junior high school) for coeducation in 1922 stated that manners were to be taught through the shūshin subject. This was practised in the sahō (作法 manners) class. Sahō was the most impressive class according to Taiwanese women who studied at kōtōjogakkō. In the sahō classes, Japanese manners were taught in a sahōshitsu (作法室 manners room) featuring tatami mats. The intention was to recreate the physical expressions seen in Japanese women. Such an education was particularly important for kōtōjogakkō students belonging to a higher social class, since it enabled them to acquire the dignity befitting their social status. Hung Yuru points out the effect of this education: ‘Because “the Japanese colour” was a means to express one’s own social class and cultural level consciously, it worked strongly on “externally”, corresponding more to outside the home than inside the home’ (Hung 2001: 173). The schoolgirls who received such an education were extreme minorities among women of the same Taiwanese generation. They understood Japanese manners and, in some cases, had learned how to perform the Tea ceremony; that is, they had attended a kōtōjogakkō, which showed their social standing. However, whatever these girls learned at school was not brought into their homes and did not become a force to change the lives of their families.5

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  25

‘Japanisation’ and Taiwanese folk culture in daily life This section will discuss ‘Japanisation’ in the daily life of the upper and uppermiddle class during the colonial period, based on interviews6 with women who studied at Tainan’s second kōtōjogakkō7 (台南第二高等女学校，commonly called Nikōjo 二高女). They also talked about their assessment of the education that they received in the colonial period. In the early days of Nikōjo, students’ families were the epitome of the elite class. However, by the end of the colonial period, even middle-class girls were able to enter the school. In kōtōjogakkō education, Japanese-style manners and hobbies were fostered; this was symbolised by the sahō class. Furthermore, students learned traditional Japanese sewing, Japanese handicrafts, cooking, and the details of traditional annual Japanese events. What changes occurred in the homes of the girls who experienced such Japanesestyle customs at school? [Case A] Born in 1914, grew up in an affluent family, and entered a shōgakkō for Japanese A the youngest daughter, with two elder brothers, was born in the home of a wealthy landowner from S County (郡) in Tainan Province (州). Her father had profound knowledge of classical Chinese and was able to speak Japanese as well. After the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, several Japanese soldiers who had come to Taiwan were stationed at his house and he learned Japanese from an officer. Her mother was able to understand a little classical Chinese. A took an examination after attending the kōgakkō for one year and changed schools to a shōgakkō for Japanese. In the sewing class, she sat straight up on a Japanese tatami mat and learned how to use a needle. It was an education in Japanese customs. Since tatami mats were spread out in her house and she put a desk on them and sat straight on the tatami mat when she studied at home, she was not troubled by the requirement at the class. After finishing shōgakkō, she entered the Tainan Nikōjo and lived with her eldest brother in Tainan City, after staying in a dormitory for two years. She sometimes ate Japanese dishes at home. Her two elder brothers had studied in Japan. They ate oshiruko8 in New Year holidays. In the New Year holidays on the solar calendar, her family displayed traditional Japanese decorations – kadomatsu and shimekazari9 – in their houses in Tainan City and S County. Her father died in 1937 and two funerals were held. The first was held in the Japanese Buddhist style in a funeral service hall in Tainan City. The subsequent funeral was arranged in the Taiwanese style in S County, but the bereaved did not wear the traditional mourning wear of Taiwan in accordance with her mother’s wishes, and there were no professional female mourners. After the death of her father, A was married by arrangement to a man who was studying for a doctorate in medicine at a Japanese university. They had a Shinto wedding ceremony at the Tainan Shinto shrine. After marriage, she

26  Hiroko UENO lived in Japan but did not experience any inconvenience in her life in Japan. Her family changed their name to a Japanese one (改姓名 kaiseimei) during their stay in Japan. She taught her daughter manners and how to receive guests, as she had learned at the Nikōjo. It is said that her daughter is different from other people. It can be said that A’s family had undergone ‘Japanisation’, even in their own home. Their eating habits show the influence of her elder brothers’ experience of studying abroad in Japan. The fact that funerals for her father were held according to Japanese and Taiwanese rites also symbolises the ‘Japanisation’ of this time. However, the mixed-style funeral shows that Taiwanese customs were altered on that occasion, but otherwise, maintained at home. After the war, her mother-inlaw’s funeral was performed in the traditional Taiwanese way by her husband’s family. After the funeral, her eldest brother, who saw A kneel in front of her mother-in-law’s coffin in the rain, complained to her husband: ‘Why did someone so highly educated celebrate that kind of funeral? My younger sister grovelled on the ground, it was disgusting and unhygienic!’ It was not so easy to change the traditional customs to the Japanese way, but the idea of ‘hygiene’ was used for criticisms of previous customs. [Case B] Born in 1926 and lived in Japanese-style lodgings B was born in K Town of H County in Tainan Province. She is the third of eight siblings, and her elder brother studied in Japan. At the time of her birth, her father was deputy mayor of K Town. B was brought up in the Japanese-style lodgings for the deputy mayor. Her parents received a Japanese education. She had miso soup at home during her childhood. Because there was a large sugar factory in K Town and many Japanese lived nearby, miso was sold in the town. At home, both Japanese and Taiwanese were spoken. The rituals and customs of the home were performed according to the lunar calendar. New Year rituals for the gods and ancestors were performed according to the lunar calendar. Since the solar calendar had been adopted as the official calendar, a New Year’s Day ceremony was held at school on the first of January. In her house, kadomatsu and shimekazari were not displayed. Her family changed their name to a Japanese name while she studied at a Nikōjo. Before finishing at the Nikōjo, B and her younger sister went to a photo studio in K Town wearing a kimono that B had made by herself, but people on the street made fun of her. B says, ‘I received a good education at Nikōjo’. She taught her daughters the positive aspects of Japanese education. ‘The Japanese-style thing may not necessarily fit them, so, I told them only a part to adapt to. For example, there is feminine discretion, helping actively with housework, lightening the burden for parents at home’.

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  27 ‘Shūshin is worth learning. But the times change, so some of what I learned does not apply in practice. However, kyōikuchokugo is fundamental, as is the idea that humans should be trained in shūshin. At that time, to let students grow into ideal Japanese women and to acquire various things, the teachers taught very hard, and we learned hard, too. In the end, even if things change over time, after all it is useable. I think what is learned at school is often good’. B’s family lived in Japanese-style lodgings, sometimes spoke Japanese, and observed the New Year of the solar calendar. However, the Taiwanese-style lunar New Year was also observed. It may be said that these two parallel types of New Year express the ambiguous state of colonial Taiwan. People in the street made fun of B for wearing a kimono, because she was Taiwanese pretending to be Japanese; they might have felt that ‘Taiwan cannot fuse with Japan’. However, B evaluates the shūshin subject in terms of its ideas on how to live life, and she understands that the education of those days made her into a ‘Japanese woman’. What she wishes to convey to the next generation is morality, how to be a ‘woman’, and an idealised Japanese education that excludes elements of Japanese nationalism. [Case C] Born in 1929; No ‘Japan’ in her home in the town centre C’s family sold fabrics in Tainan City. Their house was Taiwanese style, and Taiwanese neighbours lived next door. She was the sixth of eight siblings, all of whom siblings had received a Japanese education. In her home, Taiwanese was spoken. Her father had studied the nine Chinese classics at a private school and knew many proverbs. He had also taught himself Japanese through self-study. C says, ‘My father had traditional Chinese thoughts of the old times. In my home, various customs were Fujian style. The rituals and other things remained in old life mode, too’. Her mother had not received a school education. C did not help with housework. However, a police officer supervised the cleaning of the street in front of the house; if it was not cleaned, residents were fined. Therefore, C went to school after cleaning every morning. ‘For people who held wedding ceremonies at Shinto shrines in the Japanese period, their social level was limited to the upper class. Such things did not concern my family or relatives. My family were only general merchants then, were not at the level of kōminka; kaiseimei was not performed in my family, either’. Concerning Japanese education, C says, ‘Of course, the Japanese forced military education on the Taiwanese, but I think the education that the Japanese gave to the Taiwanese was beneficial to Taiwan. The basics of education insisted on by kyōikuchokugo are the basics of the present Taiwanese. For example, “Friends should believe in each other”, except the part declaring loyalty and patriotism, it was really good’. When the Great East Japan Earthquake struck in 2011, C watched the news about how the suffering Japanese

28  Hiroko UENO were helping each other. She talked to friends about the matter, saying, ‘The education that we received was not wrong’. What C learned in the sahō class in Nikōjo was useful later: ‘I taught my children the manners and answers that I learned in the Japanese period, and they accepted them to a certain degree. In my home, shoes must be taken off and placed tidily’. She trained her grandchildren to do the same. Unlike the previous two cases, C’s family did not have a Japanese lifestyle. ‘Japan’ was not reflected in the Taiwanese township where they lived. Concerning hygiene, police surveillance ensured that cleaning was encouraged socially. C is critical of the militarism in the education that she had received under Japanese rule but has a positive opinion of the ideas of moral education and the manners classes. [Case D] Born in 1932; folk customs at home did not change even when 50 years had passed D was born in a Taiwanese township in Tainan City. Her family had made and sold cakes since her grandfather’s days. Her father had learned classical Chinese at a private school but did not receive a Japanese education. Her mother did not receive a school education at all. She had two elder sisters and one younger brother, all of whom received a Japanese education. Her father died when she was six. Her grandparents, uncle, and aunt lived together; her uncle also made cakes. Live-in and live-out bakers made cakes together. Because the bakers shared meals with her family, cooking was confined to ordinary Taiwanese food; miso soup was not served at home. There were no tatami mats in her house. The conversations at home were in Taiwanese. D says, ‘Though my siblings were able to speak Japanese to one another, we did not use it very much. At present, it seems we use Japanese more than before. Japanese is easy to speak with my husband, and with elder sisters, we speak with Japanese and Taiwanese as a mixture’. During the lunar New Year, schools did not close. No child took a rest. ‘The lunar New Year was not recommended very much in those days. As we were instructed to live in a Japanese way, lunar calendar events were celebrated almost in secret. For the solar New Year, I wore a kimono in childhood. Because shimekazari were distributed to each house in the neighbourhood, we hung it for appearances only. When I studied at the kōgakkō, I asked a stationer to print a small name card for solar New Year’s greetings. I selected cards with flowers or dolls. On New Year’s Day, a ceremony was held at school; pupils attended, and we exchanged cards between the girls. After that, I followed my elder sisters to the houses of the Japanese teachers to make a New Year’s call and leave my name card there’. When rationing was implemented, it was hard to make cakes in D’s family’s shop, but their shop could still obtain the ingredients. ‘When I was in sixth grade, a Taiwanese male teacher was going to get married, but could not

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  29 buy lé-pián (禮餅).10 So, I told my aunt, “A teacher would like to get married, but he says that he cannot get lé-pián, so the bride will not come”. Our shop made big lé-pián for the teacher and he thanked me very much’. Her family did not perform kaiseimei, ‘because many of my family members did not understand the Japanese language. In the Japanese period, some did kaiseimei and performed wedding ceremonies at the Shinto shrine, but these people were not so many, and my relatives did not do that’. ‘I did not see people around me doing things in the Japanese way. Well, I think that because our shop was a Taiwanese confectioner, people who wanted to do things in the Japanese way did not come to our shop. After the Japanese rule began, 50 years had already passed, but this did not mean that all customs changed; in particular, changes inside the home were so difficult. Only those whose domestic economic situation was very good could do Japanese-style customs’. After the end of the colonial period, D received the education of the Republic of China. The subject equal to the shūshin of Japanese education was gongming (公民 civics). ‘I could not understand. It was mumbo jumbo to me. Now, I think shūshin is important: “To be honest”, “Not to steal”; what I learned in shūshin class, I still remember it’. Concerning the educational effect of Nikōjo, she said as follows: ‘I think that it was helpful. In particular, lessons about the various ways to visit someone’s house were useful. The education of those days was very good for me’. This case is an example of new customs: the solar New Year and ‘exchange business cards’ presented outside of the home. However, there were no Japanese-style customs in this family whose business was making traditional cakes. Even during the controlled economy period, Taiwanese marriage rituals were performed according to the traditional style. As D expresses, Taiwanese domestic customs did not change easily under the 50-year Japanese rule. These four cases describe relatively prosperous families in which the daughter studied at a kōtōjogakkō, but the degree of penetration of the ‘Japanese style’ in the home was different for each. If there was a family member who studied abroad in Japan, as in A’s case, Japanese customs and goods entered easily. Other examples of this might be a family where the father had studied at a medical school in Japan and obtained rose bushes, good clothes for his children, and so on by placing mail orders with a famous department store in Japan. The prosperous class had more opportunities for Japanese goods to be part of their daily lives. Wedding ceremonies for Taiwanese at a Shinto shrine were recommended, instead of traditional marriage customs, which involved considerable expense. However, for the Taiwanese, this was considered Japanese, and so only a limited number of Taiwanese – that is, the upper class or government officials – performed it. Officially, the New Year was celebrated according to the solar calendar in public areas with Japanese customs and ceremonies. The solar New Year was forcibly introduced to Taiwanese homes, but, other than the display of shimekazari and

30  Hiroko UENO kadomatsu or wearing kimonos, Japanese customs were seldom practised at New Year by Taiwanese. ‘Japanisation’ in daily life was more prominent in the upper class, but these four cases show that it was even limited among those of high social standing. ‘Japanisation’ rarely touched the lives of ordinary Taiwanese, and Taiwanese traditional rituals and lifestyles were maintained. Otherwise, concerning Japanese ideas about how to live, many Taiwanese who had received a Japanese education expressed positive opinions of shūshin and kyōikuchokugo. However, this appears to be based on opinions about general ethics, not about the Japanese way or ‘Japanisation’.

Distance with Japan: considering the case of Nan’yō Guntō The characteristics of Taiwanese education aiming at ‘Japanisation’ can be further clarified by comparing them with Nan’yō Guntō. The rule and civilisation of Nan’yō Guntō Nan’yō Guntō was a League of Nations mandate given to the Empire of Japan. Under the type of mandate by which Japan ruled Nan’yō Guntō, its discretion was widely accepted. Therefore, Nan’yō Guntō was identified with a part of the territory of Japan and recognised as an overseas outpost to carry out the southward policy. The promotion of agriculture, industry, and commerce and the development of mining became very important enterprises. Furthermore, for Japan at the time, the rule of Nan’yō Guntō showed the international community that Japan had achieved the ‘mission of civilisation’ and ensured the ‘welfare of the islanders’. It was significant for proving that Japan was a civilised country.11 The inculcation of the ideas of modern ‘hygiene’ and ‘time’ and the translation of those ideas into action for the islanders to ensure their welfare were both used as a means to promote the ‘Japanisation’ of the islanders (Imaizumi 2001). ‘Japanisation’ in Nan’yō Guntō education The Nan’yō Guntō educational programme at the kōgakkō is where the local people – called tōmin (島民 islanders) – studied at the three-year regular course,12 which was equivalent to half of a Taiwanese kōgakkō. There was a considerable difference in the Japanese acquisition degree, and strong Japanese ability was not expected of tōmin. In ‘Rules for kōgakkō of Nan’yō-chō (the South Seas Government)’ (1922),13 the ‘national language’ course was required to ‘teach an ordinary language, letters used daily and easy colloquial sentences’. In ‘Rules for kōgakkō of Taiwan’ from the same time (1922), the acquisition of the national language was not limited to the basics. At first, easy, familiar, colloquial language was taught, and lessons gradually progressed to reading, spelling, writing, and basic literature. This clearly shows the difference in aptitude for the ‘Japanisation’.

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  31 Kyōikuchokugo was not institutionally implemented in the education programme in the Nan’yō Guntō kōgakkō. It was not expected that the Japanese level of Nan’yo-Guntō tōmin would allow them to understand kyōikuchokugo. However, this does not mean that education for the sake of ‘Japanisation’ was not provided. At morning assembly, a seishi (誓詞 an oath) was sworn: ‘We are children of His Majesty the Emperor. We offer allegiance. We will become excellent Japanese’ (Mita 2008: 99). Though tōmin were not taught the meaning of allegiance by the kyōikuchokugo, they had become ‘Japanese who offer allegiance as children of the Emperor’. The kokugodokuhon (国語読本  the national language textbook), the only kōgakkō textbook produced and used in Nan’yō-chō, contains topics related to Japanese nationalistic education, such as Ise Grand Shrine, Meiji Shrine, ­Yasukuni Shrine, Empire Day, Three Sacred Treasures, The Imperial Palace, and so on (cf. Miyawaki comp. 2006, 2012). A story with a strong militaristic tone entitled ‘Mother’ (or ‘Mother of the sailor’) bears analysing.14 This story described the mother of a sailor who spurred on her son to fight for his country. The teacher’s manual for 1926 noted that it would be difficult to demand that the children of Nan’yō Guntō be willing to ‘die for their county’, as the sailor and his mother had, but that it was still important to instil in them at least some Japanese national spirit. In the teacher’s manual for 1937, regarding the sailor’s mother story, it encourages letting children recognise the Japanese trait of devotion in the mother and sailor. A kōgakkō teacher who had taught this story said the following: Teach the pupils to understand the patriotic spirit and tell them it is the reason why Japan is strong and superior in the world. Educate the tōmin to imitate the Japanese with such a heart and work hard at their own work. (Yamazaki 1938: 44) It was recognised that the tōmin were different from the Japanese but could still imitate the Japanese. However, as the seishi that tōmin was forced to swear demonstrated, they were culturally assimilated to Japanese. With a view to imparting modern knowledge, stories about hygiene and cleaning, diseases such as epidemics, and other matters of hygiene and cleanliness were included in the textbooks. One story in a 1937 textbook describes an officer coming for an inspection after a general cleaning and handing over a final inspection seal. In the textbooks, this kind of story encouraged pupils to put effort into preventing epidemics and consulting doctors about any health concerns. These items show the intention to implant concepts of modern hygiene in the readers’ minds. However, to what extent were tōmin able to gain knowledge of Japanese customs? And were they able to introduce them into their own lives? There are a few descriptions of Japanese customs in the textbooks. In the 1917 second year textbook, an illustration of the New Year portrays a Shinto shrine and hanetsuki,15 which are unique to the Japanese setting. However, after this volume, there are few illustrations depicting the customs and daily life in Japan. Although Japanese scenes – that is, people wearing the kimono, families at home, and historical

32  Hiroko UENO events – were illustrated in textbooks, it would have been difficult for pupils to be fully aware of Japanese life and customs from these textbooks alone. Regarding exposure to the customs of Japanese daily life for tōmin, the ‘trainee system’ (練習生制度 renshūseiseido) is significant. Pupils from kōgakkō went to the homes of government officials and staff in public enterprises to help with housework after school. This system was recognised as useful for Japanese language acquisition. Pupils helped with cleaning, washing, heating baths, and shopping and received pocket money in return. In many cases, the pupils enjoyed this job and later missed the Japanese whose houses they had visited (Morioka 2006). However, it may be said that the pupils who visited Japanese houses did not bring the culture back to their own homes, and thus their daily lives were unchanged. The previous study on memories of Japanese education among Nan’yō Guntō inhabitants indicated that their high opinions of Japanese education included ‘an expression of dissatisfaction and suspicion of post-war United States rule, differences in morals and behaviour from the post-war generation and yearning for the old days’ (Miyawaki 1995: 91). The Palauan recognised that ‘the diligence, honesty, obedience, and favour’ learned through Japanese education almost existed in Palau, too (Morioka 2006: 359). However, they did not simply hold opinions of Japanese education. Mita Maki notes that when she contacted informants with her conscious awareness of her positionality as Japanese, she found from their stories that they thought they had been brainwashed into becoming kōmin (皇民 subjects of the Empire) (Mita 2008).16 Although the ‘Japanisation’ of Nan’yō Guntō did not include education in highlevel Japanese language skills or the introduction of Japanese customs in students’ lives, it did include nationalism such as the idea of kōmin and kōkoku (皇国 the Empire), along with modern elements such as lessons in hygiene. However, in school education, the ‘Japanese style’, based on Japan’s customs, was barely seen in the textbooks. This is very different from the situation in which Japanese elements entered the lives of the upper class in Taiwan. After the end of the war, nationalism and its teachings disappeared, and it may be said that the morality that was taught through Japanese education remained in the memories of those who had received Japanese education and was relayed to Japanese researchers through evaluations of Japanese education. Compared to the Taiwanese, the people of Nan’yō Guntō had fewer opportunities to access Japanese customs in the colonial period and fewer connections with Japan after the end of the colonial period. However, looking at the contents of their assessments of education in the colonial period and the structure of multi-layered foreign power governance, the elderly expressed positive opinions of colonial education, as in Taiwan.

‘Japanisation’ after the end of colonial rule The ‘Japanisation’ that Japan brought to the colonies was created for various reasons. The primary reason was to transform the residents of the colonies into subjects of the Empire of Japan and to force loyalty on the nation.

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  33 The plan was to unify the empire with the emperor at the very top, based on Shinto beliefs. It may be said that this aspect of ‘Japanisation’ collapsed easily after Japan’s defeat. In Taiwan, the rituals of the Shinto shrines disappeared immediately, and almost all shrines were demolished. There was no movement to bring back the Shinto shrines, except for the purposes of sightseeing and regional development. Concerning traditional customs after the war, the KMT government did not initially focus on Taiwanese folk customs but did not prohibit home rituals and miao (廟 temple), which had been suppressed by the colonial government of the Japanese Empire. This situation is different in Nan’yō Guntō, where traditional religious practices were weakened by the propagation of Christianity, and Christianity has been maintained in the postwar period. In the case of Taiwan, especially for the Han people of Taiwan, post-war rule by a foreign power with a similar religious background facilitated the revival of religious rituals. The ‘mission of civilisation’ for colonial rule extolled by the Western powers was also seen in the Japanese colonial rule. This mission was pursued through Western or modern institutions, techniques, and knowledge. Life improvements in Taiwan and the ‘cleaning’ and ‘hygiene’ practices, often mentioned in textbooks, are typical examples of Western civilisation. They were passed on even after the end of the colonial rule as modern knowledge. Moreover, modern concepts such as loyalty to the nation, contributing to society, and the regulation of society by law were implanted. Regarding ‘Japanisation’ in Taiwan, it is necessary to consider the meaning of the shūshin subjects viewed positively as part of the Japanese education system. Shūshin may be regarded as a subject for promoting ‘Japanisation’, such as kōminka. On the one hand, it preached loyalty to the emperor and Japan as a nation, and on the other, it taught morals that were not directly connected to loyalty. Tsai Chin-tang points out that the assessment of the shūshin classes, recognised for their moral and etiquette lessons, is linked to the evaluation of Japanese education by the Taiwanese people (Tsai 2006: 35–40). Even in my interviews in Taiwan, the positive opinions of shūshin are remarkable. The moral part of shūshin combined modern Western ethics with Confucian ethics to preach the moral way of life. This situation in Taiwan is similar to that of Micronesia, in which people highly evaluated some aspects of Japanese education consistent with traditional values. After the end of Japan’s colonial rule, the Republic of China took over education in Taiwan. There were subjects such as ‘civics’, ‘civics and morals’, and ‘life and ethics’ that corresponded to shūshin. Tsai describes these subjects as follows: Though the moral ethics and 四維八徳 (four anchors and eight virtues) were also written in the textbook, actually these subjects were education for 反共抗俄 (‘overthrowing the communists and defeating the Soviet Union’), 仇匪恨匪 (‘avenging the Chinese Communist Party’) and strengthening the leader-centred system. Education in moral ethics and the rules of public conduct was relatively diluted. This caused the ‘Japanese-speaking Taiwanese’

34  Hiroko UENO (日本語族)17 of old Taiwanese to become frustrated and miss the days of Japanese rule. (Tsai 2006: 38–39) The author also heard from several informants, ‘There is no class like shūshin, which is a problem with the KMT’s education’. Subjects such as ‘civics’ are not considered as equivalent to shūshin. Regarding the ‘Japanisation’ during the period of Japanese rule, the traditional Japanese customs introduced arguably failed to take root in people’s lives, and the practices and ideas related to Japanese nationalism ceased to exist on the termination of colonial rule. Modern ideas and ethics were accepted as values not unique to Japan. The spirit of kyōikuchokugo and teaching of shūshin, which were the basis of Japanese education, did not deny Confucian values and were internalised in those who subsequently received a Japanese education. In Taiwan, the subsequent KMT administration, and the majority of Taiwanese shared the customs of the Han people. The Taiwanese people were released from the shackles of Japan, and traditional customs and rituals began to be carried out again. However, there was a situation in which the ethical moral education of the original Confucian country, China, appeared to be less fulfilling than the previous Japanese education. The education originally planned for the sake of ‘Japanisation’ was recognised as one that included East Asian and modern values, with a reduced emphasis on ‘Japan’. However, trends in Taiwan, in which these discourses are introduced, and in which people have an affinity for Japan, are related to changes in Taiwanese society. With the progress of Bentuhua and the permeation of consciousness that regards the Japanese rule as a part of Taiwan’s history, many Taiwanese view the relationship with Japan positively and are willing to see ‘Japan’ in their lives. As D from the case study described it, ‘At present, it seems we use Japanese more than before’. The evaluation and expression of the period of Japanese rule are a product of the particular historical times.

Conclusion The purest ‘Japan’ idealised in the ‘Japanisation’ – that is, the traditional Japanese style – hardly took root in the lives of Taiwanese people, except for consuming Japanese food such as miso soup, sushi, sukiyaki, etc. Other than the eating habits, ikebana (traditional Japanese flower arrangement) became an accepted hobby, tatami mats were used for interior decoration, and so on. It may be said that these things were not considered to be rooted in the rule of Nan’yō Guntō. However, in Taiwan, Japanese products imported as stylish goods during the colonial period retained that image. This is also true for the ideas of modernity, such as hygiene and time, introduced by Japan. Although they are related to the positive image of Japan in Taiwanese people’s lives, traditional Japanese customs did not take root. In addition, unlike Nan’yō Guntō, it was easy for the Taiwanese to accept Japanese education due to the cultural similarities represented by Confucianism

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  35 and the written Chinese characters. When it became possible to publicly express opinions about of Japanese education and rule, these cultural similarities made easy-to-explain memories of the past. The modern Western European knowledge and Confucian values taught in shūshin classes are recognised as the essence of education in the Japanese colonial period, and the kōkokushikan that existed at the same time were missed after the war. If one looks at the changes brought about by Japanese colonial governance as simply embedding ‘Japan’ and embodying the kōkokushikan, one cannot understand the anguish of the Taiwanese people and their awareness of their own colonial experience. The ‘Japanisation’ has created the anguish and identity conflict for Taiwanese people, but they also manipulated it to suit the situation in the post-war context. In Taiwan under martial law, it was impossible to publicise positive opinions of the period of Japanese rule. Those who had lived through the Japanese rule could not refer to their past in positive terms in public. In addition, at that time, the movement of people to and from Japan and the trading of goods were more limited compared to subsequent years. Arguably, there were fewer opportunities to feel ‘Japan’ in everyday life than there are at present. Through Bentuhua after the rule by a foreign power, Taiwan’s own history and self-recognition were shared by her people and the memories of the Japanese period are now being re-recognised and reconstructed. The women’s narratives mentioned earlier tell of their thoughts and memories of the way Taiwanese people went through colonial history. The ‘Japanisation’ of the colonial period was mainly promoted in schools, which were public institutions, but did not penetrate everyday life. They had experienced this particular lifeworld of the Japanese colonial period, and then lived through the era of foreign rule, when it was difficult to publicly express opinions of the Japanese colonial rule. They subsequently also experienced the era of Bentuhua, which regards the Japanese colonial period as part of Taiwanese history. As they recapture their past, the militaristic elements of the Japanese education that they had been formed in slipped away, and modern knowledge and moral teachings are again recognised as their foundations. The Taiwanese people, while looking at present-day Japan, project the connection between Taiwan and Japan onto their own experience. The self-portraits they draw are a perfect reflection of Taiwan’s nearly 100 years of history.

Notes 1 In this chapter, in the description of the colonial period, ‘the Taiwanese’ refers to the Han people called hontōjin (本島人) under the Japanese administration. That is, the Hoklo (福佬) and the Hakka (客家) people. The Hoklo, or Minnan people (閩南人 Minnanren), are descendants of those who came from southern Fujian. 2 Bentuhua is the creation of Taiwanese rather than Chinese political, cultural, and educational structures in the 1990s. 3 The rules of the education system of colonial Taiwan may be found in Taiwan Educational Association ed. (1939).

36  Hiroko UENO 4 Since 1922 (the New Education Order), the coeducation of Taiwanese and Japanese had been a fundamental principle; secondary education was not divided based on ethnicity. In primary education, because of differences in Japanese language ability, there were two schools: kōgakkō and shōgakkō. However, Taiwanese pupils could enter shōgakkō if their Japanese language skills and home environment were recognised as good enough to learn alongside Japanese pupils. 5 The issues of relevance in terms of kōtōjogakkō education and ‘Japanisation’ are discussed by Ueno (2006, 2008, 2010, 2011). 6 The data of the following examples were collected through continuous fieldwork from July 2005 to March 2013. All interviewees are Hoklo people. The language of the interviews was Japanese. 7 Tainan’s second kōtōjogakkō was originally for Taiwanese, and the number of Taiwanese students was higher than that of Japanese. Nikōjo was ranked as the best school for Taiwanese in southern Taiwan. 8 Oshiruko is a traditional Japanese desert soup made with sweet adzuki beans and rice cakes. 9 Kadomatsu and shimekazari are traditional Japanese decorations for New Year events. Kadomatsu is made of pine and is set outside the house gate. Shimekazari is made of straw and hung above the entrance door. They may be seen from outside the building. These decorations were a sign of acceptance of ‘Japanisation’ in the colonial period. 10 禮餅, lé-pián in Taiwanese, are cakes that the groom’s family sends to the bride’s family to celebrate an engagement and before a wedding. The bride’s family delivers the cakes to relatives and friends and tells them that the engagement has been agreed on, or that the wedding will take place. It is an indispensable item for traditional marriage among Han people in Taiwan. 11 Previous studies suggested the importance of welfare and the mission of civilisation in the administration of Nan’yō Guntō (cf. Imaizumi 2001; Sakai 2007). 12 Pupils with excellent results in regular courses were able to study in a supplementary course for a further two years. 13 The rules of the education system of Nan’yō Guntō may be found in Nan’yō Guntō Educational Association ed. (1938). 14 See the following textbooks compiled by Miyawaki (Miyawaki comp. 2006): Supplementary course, second year (1927), Regular course, third year (1932), Supplementary course, first year (1937). 15 Hanetsuki is a type of battledore game played at New Year. 16 In addition, Mita points out the importance of perceiving what informants do not, in fact, talk about (Mita 2016: 141). 17 日本語族 refers to those people who were educated in Japanese during the colonial period and have continued acquiring knowledge and expressing themselves in Japanese in post-war Taiwan.　

Bibliography Barlow, Tani E., ed. (1997) Formation of Colonial Modernity in East Asia. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Ching, Leo T.S. (2001) Becoming “Japanese”: Colonial Taiwan and the Politics of Identity Formation. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Cooper, Frederick. (2005) Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Fong, Shiaw-Chian. (2006) ‘Hegemony and Identity in the Colonial Experience of Taiwan, 1895–1945’. In Liao Ping-hui and David Der-Wei Wang, eds., Taiwan under Japanese Colonial Rule, 1895–1945. New York: Columbia University Press, pp. 160–183.

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  37 Hsu, Pei-hsien 許佩賢. (2005) Modern School in Colonial Taiwan 殖民地臺灣的近代學 校. Taipei: Yuan-Liou Publishing Co. Ltd. Hung, Yuru 洪郁如. (2001) Women’s History of Modern Taiwan: Japanese Colonial Rule and the Birth of a ‘New Woman’ 近代台湾女性史―日本の植民統治と「新女性」の 誕生. Tokyo: Keisou Shobo. Imaizumi, Yumiko 今泉裕美子. (2001) ‘Well-being Policy for Indigenous People in Japanese Mandated Micronesia’ 南洋群島委任統治における「島民の福祉」. The Journal of Japanese Colonial Studies 日本植民地研究, 13:38–56. Komagome, Takeshi 駒込武. (2003) ‘Thinking about “Colonial Modernity” in Taiwan’ 台湾における「植民地近代」を考える. Intriguing Asia アジア遊学, 48:4–13． Lin, Mosei. (1929) Public Education in Formosa Under the Japanese Administration: Historical and Analytical Study of the Development and the Cultural Problems. New York: Columbia University Doctoral Dissertation. In Hiroshi Abe 阿部洋, ed., Collection of Historical Materials of Educational Policy in Japanese Colonies: Taiwan Series, 日本植民地教育政策史料集成 台湾編, 35 (2008）Tokyo: Ryuukeishosha Co. Ltd, pp. i–xiv+1–160. Makeham, John. (2005) ‘Introduction’. In John Makeham and A-Chin Hsiau, eds., Cultural, Ethnic, and Political Nationalism in Contemporary Taiwan: Bentuhua. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 1–14. doi.10.1057/9781403980618_1 Mita, Maki 三田牧. (2008) ‘Remembering Colonial Experiences: Palauan Elders’ Stories of Being Educated as Imperial People, and Being Discriminated Against as Islanders’ 想起される植民地経験―「島民」と「皇民」をめぐるパラオ人の語り. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 国立民族学博物館研究報告, 33(1):81–133. doi.10.15021/00003942 ———. (2016) ‘The Reality of Colonial Experience in Stories in Palau’ パラオの語り にみる植民地経験のリアリティ. In Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, Hisashi Endo 遠藤央 and Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子, eds., Memory of Imperial Japan: Multi-layered Foreign Powers and Decolonisation in Taiwan and Micronesia 帝国日本の記憶―台湾・旧南 洋群島における外来政権の重層化と脱植民地化. Tokyo: Keio University Press, pp. 119–144. Miyawaki, Hiroyuki 宮脇弘幸. (1995) ‘The Japanization Programs in the South Sea Island under Japanese Rule (1914–1945): Their Education Goal, Islanders’ School Experiences and Remaining Influences’ 旧南洋群島における日本化教育の構造と実態及び残 存形態. Annals of the Institute for Research in Humanities and Social Sciences (The Institute for Research in Humanities and Social Sciences, Miyagi Gakuin Women’s University) 人文社会科学論叢（宮城学院女子大学人文社会科学研究所), 4：53–105. Morioka, Junko 森岡純子. (2006) ‘Japanese Language Education under the Japanese Mandatory Administration in Palau and its Influence: Research Based on Listening Comprehension Tests Administered to Palauans Who Received the Japanese Language Education’ パラオにおける戦前日本語教育とその影響―戦前日本語教育を受け たパラオ人の聞きとり調査から. Ritsumeikan Law Review, Separate Volume: Language and its Spread 立命館法学別冊 ことばとそのひろがり, 4:331–397. Morris, Andrew D. (2015a) ‘Introduction: Living as Left Behind in Postcolonial Taiwan’. In Andrew D. Morris, ed., Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury, pp. 3–23. ———, ed. (2015b) Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury. Nan’yō Guntō Educational Association 南洋群島教育会, ed. (1938) Educational History of Nan’yō Guntō 南洋群島教育史. Published by Nan’yo Guntō Educational Association [(1982) Tokyo: Seishisha].

38  Hiroko UENO Sakai, Kazuomi 酒井一臣. (2007) ‘The Mandate of Nan’yō Guntō as “the Mission of Civilisation”: Background of Excessive Governance’ 「文明の使命」としての南洋群島 委任統治―過剰統治の背景. In The Research Project of ‘Japanese Colonial Empire seen from International Relations’, Institute of Social Science, Chukyo University 中京大学社会学研究所　国際関係から見た植民地帝国日本研究プロジェクト, ed., Nan’yō Guntō seen from Empire and International Order 南洋群島と帝国・国際 秩序. Nagoya: Institute of Social Science, Chukyo University, pp. 57–96. Taiwan Educational Association 台湾教育会, ed. (1939) Historical Record of Education in Taiwan 台湾教育沿革誌. Taihoku: Taiwan Educational Association [(1995) Taipei: SMC Publishing Inc.]. Tsai, Chin-tang 蔡錦堂. (2006) ‘Taiwanese’s View of Japan that Lived across the Japanese-ruled Period and the Kuomingtang Period’ 日本統治時代と国民党統治時代に 跨って生きた台湾人の日本観. In Masako Igarashi 五十嵐真子 and Yuko Mio 三尾 裕子, eds., ‘Japan’ in Post-war Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilisation of Colonial Experience 戦後台湾における〈日本〉―植民地経験の連続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 19–59. Tsurumi, E. Patricia. (1977) Japanese Colonial Education in Taiwan, 1895–1945. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Ueno, Hiroko 植野弘子. (2006) ‘ “Japan” for the Students of Kōtōjogakkō in Colonial Taiwan: A Pilot Study on the Transformation of Life Culture 植民地台湾における高等女 学校生の「日本」―生活文化の変容に関する試論. In Masako Igarashi 五十嵐真 子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., ‘Japan’ in Post-war Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilisation of Colonial Experience 戦後台湾における〈日本〉―植民地経 験の連続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 121–154. ———. (2008) ‘The Influence of Japanese Rule on Tainan Culture: Significance of Studying the Relevancy between Kōtōjogakkō Education and Taiwanese Life Culture’ 台南文 化上所受的日本統治的影響―研究高等女學校教育對台灣生活文化之意義. Trans. by Te-chih Wu 呉得智. In Yuju Lin 林玉茹 and Fiorella Allio, eds., Nanying History, Society and Culture 南瀛歴史、社會與文化. Tainan: Tainan County Government, pp. 409–429. ———. (2010) ‘The Students of Kōtōjogakkō in Tainan under Japanese Rule: “Japanese” Experience and Traditional Custom seen from their Life History’ 日本統治期台南之高 等女学校学生―従生命史観察「日本」経験與伝統習俗. Trans. by Shuan Chen 陳 萱. In Wen-feng Tai 戴文鋒, ed., Nanying History, Society and Culture Ⅱ 南瀛歴史、 社會與文化Ⅱ. Tainan: Tainan County Government, pp. 143–174. ———. (2011) ‘Daily Life in Taiwan and “Japanese Education”: A Case Study for Homes of Students of Kōtōjogakkō’ 台湾の日常と「日本教育」―高等女学校生の家庭から. In Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾における〈植民地〉経験―日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 141–184. Wakabayashi, Masahiro 若林正丈 and Mi-cha Wu 呉密察, eds., (2004) Transcending the Boundary of Taiwanese History: Dialogue with East Asian History 跨界的臺灣史研 究―與東亞史的交錯．Taipei: Appleseed Publishing Co. Ltd. Wu, Wen-hsing 呉文星. (2010) Social Leader Class and Japanese Rule in Taiwan 台湾の社会的リーダー階層と日本統治. Translation edited by Jun Shozawa 所澤潤. Tokyo： Japan-Taiwan Exchange Association． Yamazaki, Hisashi 山崎央. (1938) ‘Impressions after Teaching New National Language Textbook (Supplementary Course Vol. 1)’ 新国語読本指導後の感想（補習科用 巻一） .

‘Japanisation’ of the Taiwanese lifeworld  39 Nan’yō Education 南洋教育, 5(2):22–44 [collected in Nan’yō Guntō National Language Textbook Supplement 南洋群島国語読本 補遺. (2012) Tokyo: Ozorasha Shuppan Co. Ltd.].

Reference materials Miyawaki, Hiroyuki 宮脇弘幸, comp. (2006, 2012) Nan’yō Guntō National Language Textbook 1–8, Supplement 南洋群島国語読本1–8,補遺. Tokyo: Ozorasha Shuppan Co. Ltd. The Government-General of Taiwan 台湾総督府. (2003) National Language Textbook for Kōgakkō and Kokumin Gakkō of the Japanese-ruled Period 日治時期台灣公學校與國 民學校國語讀本. Taipei: SMC Publishing Inc. The Government-General of Taiwan 台湾総督府. (1913–1941) Shūshin Textbook for Kōgakkō 公学校修身書, Shūshin Textbook for an Advanced Course of Kōgakkō 公学校 高等科修身書. In Image System for Books of the Japanese-ruled Period 日治時期圖書 影像系統. New Taipei City: National Taiwan Library.

2 The realities of Palauan colonial experiences Maki MITA

Between gaps in cognition The Republic of Palau is an island country in the Pacific Ocean. The inhabitants call their country Belau. Palau has been colonised by Spain, Germany, Japan, and the United States, one after another. How do Palauan people interpret the past and foreign influences? This chapter examines Palauan narratives of their experiences of colonisation by Japan and the United States. Palau became independent in 1994, as a Freely Associated State of the United States of America. Palau had sought a means to achieve independence for many years. One of the reasons why Palau took so long for its political self-determination is that some Palauans would not compromise on important policies, including the right to remain a nuclear-free state. In 1979, under American control as a United Nations Trust Territory, the first Draft Constitution of Palau was discussed and drafted by the Palau Constitutional Convention. It was characterised by policies of anti-nuclearisation, non-acceptance of foreign military bases, and sovereign independence (Sakurai 1981: 122). The US government attempted to persuade Palau to amend some articles in its constitution, including the anti-nuclear clause (Rechebei and McPhetres 1997: 278). In article XIII, section 6, the Constitution of the Republic of Palau states: Harmful substances such as nuclear, chemical, gas or biological weapons intended for use in warfare, nuclear power plants, and waste materials therefrom, shall not be used, tested, stored, or disposed of within the territorial jurisdiction of Palau without the express approval of not less than three-fourths (3/4) of the votes cast in a referendum submitted on this specific question. (Constitution of the Republic of Palau) This clause was in conflict with the draft Compact of Free Association. Taking US wishes into account, a constitutional revision commission proposed amendments of the draft constitution. However, the reviced constitution was rejected by a referendum in 1979. The original draft of the constitution was approved in a 1980 referendum, and the self-government of the Republic of Palau was established

Palauan colonial experiences  41 in 1981 (Sakurai 1981; Rechebei and McPhetres 1997: 278–291; Mita 2015: 257–259). For a small country such as Palau, the practical way to independence would have been to conclude the Compact of Free Association with the United States, and thus receive hefty financial aid. However, in this case, the military defence rights of Palau would belong to the United States, and it would mean that the United States might bring nuclear-related items into Palauan territorial jurisdiction. Although Palau and the United States eventually signed the Compact of Free Association in 1982, in order to ratify the Compact, the approval of not less than three-quarters of the votes cast in a referendum was required, since it was in conflict with the anti-nuclear clause of the Constitution. Due to this criterion, for more than ten years, the government of Palau repeatedly carried out referenda, and each time, votes in favour of the Compact were fewer than 75%. During this period, the discord between pro-Compact and Compact-skeptics became serious (Rechebei and McPhetres 1997; Endo 2000; Mita 2013). In order to ease the process of ratification of the Compact, the Constitution was amended so as not to apply the anti-nuclear clause to the conclusion of the Compact of Free Association with the United States, therefore the percentage of approval votes required to ratify the Compact became simple majority (Mita 2013: 192, 2015: 260). Finally, in 1994, the Republic of Palau became independent as a Freely Associated State of the United States. Even though the United States holds Palau’s defence rights, during the long process of the negotiations, Palau confirmed that the United States would not use, test, store, or dispose of nuclear weapons in the territory of Palau as from 1986 (Yazaki 1999: 243). The author had the opportunity to talk to Ms. Gabriela Ngirmang, a leading advocate of the pro-constitution group. When asked why she fought so bravely for Palauans’ land rights and nuclear-free Palau, she was kind enough to tell her story:1 At a conference in Hawaii, she met people from the Marshall Islands, and from Nagasaki, Japan. Some delegates had been exposed to nuclear radiation through nuclear testings and the bombing. Gabriela spoke in Palauan, while her daughter translated into English. At the conference in Hawaii, I met people from the Marshalls. They told me about deformed babies born in the islands, including babies whose heads were too large. I thought that this must never happen in Palau. I also met Ms. Moritaki, an elderly woman from Nagasaki. One of her eyes had been blinded when she looked at the flash from the atomic bomb. Suddenly, Gabriela switched languages from Palauan to Japanese, and said, When the genshi-bakudan (原子爆弾 atomic bomb) fell, Ms. Moritaki ruined her eye only because she looked at the flash. One of her eyes was a glass ball. Our island is so small and only a small number of people live here. I became very scared. I thought that I had to work to help my people.

42  Maki MITA Her story makes it clear that her opinions about nuclear issues are based on Palauan experiences of colonisation by Japan and America. The experience of the Marshallese exposed to radiation during nuclear testings might also have happened in Palau, as they were both under US control at that time. She understood Japanese because she had been schooled during the Japanese colonial administration of Palau. Thus, she was able to directly understand Ms. Moritaki’s words and experiences. Gabriela used the Japanese word genshi-bakudan, meaning, atomic bomb, but the connotations of these words are different. The connotations of the phrase ‘atomic bomb’ for some Americans are ‘power’, or ‘American justice’. On the other hand, the genshi-bakudan generally connotes destruction, tragedy, fear, and death. As she had understood the atomic bomb from the perspectives of the people from the Marshall Islands and Nagasaki, she was, arguably, impelled to unconditionally resist the possibility of suffering from nuclear in Palau. Historically, Palau was colonised by Spain (1885–1899), Germany (1899– 1914), Japan (1914–1945), and the United States of America (1945–1994). Palauan colonial experiences have settled on Palau in layers. For example, there are numerous Christians in Palau as a result of Spanish and German administration. Numerous Japanese words are used in the Palauan language as a result of the Japanese administration. Further, Palau started to elect political leaders as a result of the American administration. The author stayed in a Palauan hamlet for approximately one month each year between 1998 and 2000. According to the author’s perception, Japan still influenced Palauan daily lives at that time.2 On the other hand, few Japanese knew the history involving Palau and Japan. For most Japanese, Palau was an island somewhere to the south. This recognition gap was uncomfortable. Accounts of Palauan experiences should be heard by the Japanese. From 2004 to 2007, the author was a visiting researcher at the national museum in Palau (Belau National Museum) and began interviewing Palauan elders about their experiences during the Japanese colonial era. In the course of the interviews with 58 people, Palauan elders shared their oral histories of experiences during Japanese colonisation. Every story is impressive, arousing each time greater empathy in the interviewer. However, in the process of writing articles based on oral accounts, the author felt that she missed something what she grasped during the interviews. To clarify this, this chapter re-analyses our conversations.

Histories of the Pacific people Among the studies of Micronesian people’s history and memories, some focus on war experiences, aiming to document and include the Pacific people’s voices in the ‘History of World War II’ (e.g. White and Lindstrom 1989; White 1991; Poyer et al. 2001; Falgout et al. 2008; Murray 2016). Histories of World War II in the Pacific were written primarily by the Allies and the Japanese. By presenting Pacific Islanders’ voices which heretofore had tended to be ignored, these

Palauan colonial experiences  43 studies aim to make the written history of World War II more multi-vocal and representative. The events of the past are understood differently by different ethnic groups, nationalities, and so on. As Gabriela Ngirmang’s understanding of the atomic bomb is based on the experiences of people from the Marshall Islands and Nagasaki, Palauan people’s understanding of World War II may also differ from that of Japanese or Americans. Stephen Murray (2016) captures the history of Peleliu Island of Palau, from American, Japanese, and Palauan perspectives. Peleliu was the site of a fierce battle between American and Japanese troops. Each player developed their own understanding of the battle. However, both tend to forget what their battle meant to Palauans. Keith Camacho (2011) examines Mariana Islanders’ understanding of World War II and the ‘liberation’ of the people of the Mariana Islands. Camacho compares the ideas of World War II and ‘liberation’ between the people in Northern Mariana, then under Japanese control, and the people of Guam, then under American control. He clarifies that, depending on experiences, understanding of the war and ‘liberation’ was quite different. It is not easy to understand how others interpret the past. Listening to the experiences of different nationalities or ethnic groups is complex, as Zelenietz and Saito point out in their research on Kilenge, New Britain. The inhabitants tend to speak ill of the Japanese occupation to the American researcher, but positively of Japanese occupation to the Japanese researcher (Zelenietz and Saito 1989). When presenting oral histories, speakers choose what to say or not to say, depending on the listener. When the author collected oral histories of the Palauan people, and documented their memories under Japanese control, including their war memories (Mita 2009), it later transpired that certain memories and opinions had been left unsaid. The characteristics of the listener, including nationality, gender, age, attitude, way of thinking, and other factors, must be considered when studying oral accounts. While presenting their experiences, the narrator will choose what they wish the listener to know. In this sense, the narratives are messages to the listener. There are naturally vast fields of information and opinions that a narrator may not say. In addition to the nature of the narratives, how to appropriately understand the memories of others requires further consideration. The narrations of the past are not ‘the past’ itself but are, instead, a ‘recalled past’ (Noe 2005). People recall what happened, and interpret its meaning from their current viewpoints. They construct stories based on their experiences, while in communication with the listener (Sakurai 2005; Mita 2008). Their narratives may therefore be construed as interpretations of their past. Masanori Yoshioka discusses historical writing focusing on the multi-vocal realities of ‘unmarked people’ (Yoshioka 2000: 28).3 Anthropologists’ ethnographies have been criticised for the ways they represent others. Critics have stated that ethnographies tend to describe an ‘authentic’ culture before it has been influenced by outsiders. How to overcome this problem has been discussed for many years. In the context of such discussions, Yoshioka claims that recognition of authenticity in one’s own culture is neither stable nor unified. There are a variety

44  Maki MITA of ways of understanding the authenticity of culture among local people, and local people attempt to explain this in different ways. Though these ways of understanding may easily change or even, at times, be rejected, they are ‘the reality’ for each person at that moment. Yoshioka highlights such multi-vocal realisms. This chapter considers the narratives of two Palauans, in particular their narratives on Palauan cultural tenets and relations with Japanese during the Japanese colonial administration. For them, these narratives represent ‘the realities’ of colonial experiences. What reality were they attempting to communicate to the author as they shared their memories?

Narratives of two Palauan men The background of interviewer and interviewees Below is a discussion of the stories of two Palauan males, Mr. Singeo Techong and Mr. Santos Ngirasechedui. Both are of the generation strongly influenced by the Japanese administration, since they were born and grew up during the Japanese colonial period. In addition, both are proficient in Japanese, and thus, able to narrate their experiences in Japanese. The interviews which this chapter based on were conducted in Japanese in 2006, and their stories were recorded by the author (Mita 2009).4 Singeo Techong was born in 1920, his biological father was Japanese, and his mother was Palauan. As he said, ‘My Japanese father gave me only my name’; he was actually raised by his Palauan grandparents in Airai village. During Japanese colonisation, the legal status of Micronesians (including Palauans) was tōmin (島民 islanders). If a Japanese citizen registered a marriage with a Micronesian, their spouse and children were entitled to legal Japanese status. However, many Japanese men did not register these marriages, and the legal status of their wives and children remained tōmin.5 Singeo said that he had met his Japanese father three times in his life. His Japanese father wanted to let him go to school in Japan. However, his maternal grandfather would not allow it. Although half Japanese, he was raised as Palauan. Palau was a matrilineal society, therefore, provided the mother was Palauan, the child was considered Palauan. Singeo said he experienced no difficulty living as a Palauan in Palauan society despite his Japanese father. Singeo attended a school for islanders. The primary schools for Micronesians were termed kōgakkō (公学校), while primary schools for Japanese were termed shōgakkō (小学校). There were six kōgakkō in Palau, and almost 98% of Palauan children were attending these schools in 1935 (Nan’yō Guntō Kyōikukai 1938). Singeo attended kōgakkō in Koror, the capital of the Micronesia. He followed the honka (本科 regular course) for three years, and then, the hoshūka (補習科 supplementary course) for a further two years. He spoke Japanese as a second language and was fluent. Santos Ngirasechedui, born in 1923, was raised in Melekeok village. His parents were both from high-ranking clans in Melekeok, one of the prominent

Palauan colonial experiences  45 villages in Palau. He attended kōgakkō in Melekeok for three years. There was no supplementary course at the Melekeok kōgakkō, so on finishing the regular course, he came to Koror and continued his studies in the supplementary course at the Koror kōgakkō for two more years. In Koror, he stayed at the dormitory. Santos also spoke excellent Japanese, even though he had little occasion to use it after the war. The interviewer (author) was a female anthropologist in her mid-thirties at the time of research. As a visiting researcher at the Belau National Museum, she collected and recorded accounts of colonial experiences. She had previously studied the subject of Palau for several years. Although her Palauan language skill was limited, she had acquired awareness of Palauan culture from her stays in a Palauan hamlet. Singeo Techong and Santos Ngirasechedui’s interviews were in Japanese. This section focuses on stories by Singeo Techong and Santos Ngirasechedui, in particular regarding traditional Palauan cultural tenets, and their relationships with Japanese during the Japanese colonial period. Tenets of traditional Palauan culture When asked to describe what his foster parents (his Palauan grandparents) have taught him, Singeo Techong delivered a lengthy narrative, from which extracts are quoted below: When I was a child, we learned practical things through playing. When the boys became thirteen years old, they played spear throwing. We call a spear biskang. If three or four boys came together, we competed to see who could throw the biskang the farthest. . . . Fishing is men’s work. Women work at cultivation. If a boy went to a taro patch, his mother would tell him ‘Why did you come with me? This is not work for men. You should go and collect firewood.’ . . . In the old days, we lived following traditional rules. Women’s work was to cook, for example. In order to prepare food, women would clear taro or tapioca, and men would collect firewood, clean fish, wrap the fish with coconut leaves, and make fire. There was a division of labor between men and women. Japan also used to be like that, right? Singeo told the author that Palauan children learned the basic life skills through play. Here, he exemplified spear throwing, because the skill was required for fishing. Fishing was men’s work, so boys played with spears. His additional question regarding the Japanese situation may be interpreted as his generalising the decline of gender roles as a current tendency. He continued: Every hamlet had their own rules. For example, respecting others is the most important rules in Palau. If you lived near the entrance of the hamlet, you should prepare torches for someone who would visit the hamlet. We also prepared fish and taro for the visitors. People living near the entrance of the

46  Maki MITA hamlet were not the only ones required to help, all the people of the hamlet were expected to welcome visitors on occasion. Everybody in the hamlet kept some extra food in case visitors came, and ate the old food first. At that time, Palauan people could travel anywhere in Palau without carrying food. It is our custom to greet visitors by saying, ‘Come and eat.’ He stressed that ‘to respect others is the most important in Palau’. The author experienced similar hospitality in Palau in 1998. On request to stay for a month in the hamlet, the Chief appointed a host family, who then provided a room and board. A clean sheet and pillow were brought to the house from outside. The author offered ten dollars a day for the stay, and on the last day, duly paid. However, half of the amount was returned. The host mother said, ‘You are now our daughter. You need not pay us.’ The other half was accepted as payment to the landlord. Subsequently, when the author returned to the hamlet every year, she stayed with the same family. Regarding the preparation of torches, the author learned that carrying a torch while walking outside at night was a rule introduced during the Japanese colonial period, from the diary of the Japanese artist Hijikata Hisakatsu. On a visit to Airai village in 1929, Hijikata noted that locals carried tourches when walking at night. Some Palauans explained to him that this was a new rule in order to prevent young people from sneaking away at night for dates (Hijikata 2010: 415). This rule seems based on the values of the coloniser. Singeo also stressed that no money was required for support in traditional Palau. Singeo seemed somewhat critical of the tendency of modern Palau to demand money for any service. Following this narrative, in answer to the question, ‘Were there any Japanese customs or ways of doing things which Palauan people had to accept even though they were not Palauan ways?’ Singeo replied, Yes. Japanese were too selfish. Foreign people are like that. They don’t respect the islanders. They do what they want to do, and say what they want to say. But they don’t care about how we feel. Americans value freedom. America has the people from 160 countries.6 So, they might not need to pay respect to others. . . . In Palau, we respect others. In this narrative, Singeo compared ‘Palauans who value respecting others’ and ‘Japanese and Americans who did only what they wanted in Palau, and did not respect Palauans’. Singeo stated that in America, a culturally diverse nation, the value of respecting others may be comparatively low, but in Palau, it is the most important part of the culture. In this narrative, ‘not respecting others’ implies ‘doing what one wants freely and not thinking about others’ feelings’. He continued, However, our culture is changing. These days, influenced by Americans, some Palauans will call the police if someone scolds their children. They call

Palauan colonial experiences  47 it ‘child abuse’. I can’t believe that. The Bible says that you should admonish children. Otherwise, they would shame their parents. The Bible says so. Everyone wants to act freely, but at the same time, you should allow others to act freely. We, island people don’t understand that. He criticised today’s Palauans who are influenced by the United States and call the police if other people scold their children. He also talked about the Bible to support his opinions, but ironically, Christianity itself came to Palau through Spanish colonisation. It should be mentioned that this research interview was conducted outdoors. During the interview two Japanese tourists walked by, a young woman and her mother. Singeo greeted them with, ‘Hello. Are you from Japan?’ ‘Yes’, they answered, upon which Singeo said, ‘I appreciate your visit to Palau.’ This action was abrupt, and the Japanese tourists seemed somewhat puzzled by it. The implication of his greeting the tourists seems to be a way to show the interviewer how Palauans respected others. Santos Ngirasechedui also provided a lengthy narrative about Palauan tenets and customs. He was from a high-ranking clan in Melekeok village. He was taught the history of the hamlet and other important things by his father. He emphasised that high clan’s responsibility, to work for the people of the hamlet. He said as below: My father always said, ‘You should work hard for the community. If the stonework dock is broken, you should go there first, and be the first to start fixing it. Then, the others would also work. And, you should be the last person to stop working. High positioned people should work very hard, and direct other people, then, the things would go well.’ . . . We had a road from Melekeok village to Ngiwal village. It was about 9 to 11 meters wide. As this road was made through a taro patch, it easily became muddy. We had to clean the ditch at the side of the road every month. It was kinrōhōshi (勤労奉仕 public work). We, all the men from twelve years old to sixty years old, had to work. My father told me, ‘You and the young men from your clan should go there earlier than the others, and you must work at the muddiest place. You should work there all the morning without break.’ As Santos belonged to a high-ranking clan, he was raised and trained to be a good leader. The most important thing was to work for the community. In his narrative, he used the Japanese word kinrōhōshi, meaning, in the Palauan context, to work for the local community for free (Figure 2.1). The original Japanese word has almost the same meaning, but with a slightly different nuance. It originally means to work for the public without self-interest. Until the end of World War II, many people in the Japanese empire were required to perform kinrōhōshi for Japan. It is likely that Palauan students were also assigned kinrōhōshi in school and adopted the word to indicate traditional Palauan customs of working for the community. Palauan kinrōhōshi and Japanese kinrōhōshi evolved separately in each culture.

48  Maki MITA

Figure 2.1 Melekeok villagers and the village office in Feb 1936. The snapshot perhaps celebrated the opening of the new village office which was built by kinrōhōshi. Source: From the collection of the Belau National Museum, Inc., (BNM).

Kinrōhōshi was one of the occasions which he could contribute to the community. Santos said, This is a traditional tenet of Palauan culture. This custom has faded since the Americans came and brought the notion of ‘freedom’. In Palau, there are high clans and common clans. Today, people from common clans are able to become governors or president. Those who would not be involved in political matters in the old days are now involved in politics, and those who have the right to be involved in politics are less influential. American notions do not fit with Palauan tradition. I don’t want to complain about the power decline of the higher clans, but I want the leaders of the island to be trustworthy. In old days, our ancestors built bai (meeting house), roads, ports, and everything we needed without exchanging money. I like that system. Those who belong to the higher clans would start to work first and would work hardest, and the others would follow. He stated that American notions of freedom (or egalitarianism) did not suit Palauan culture. According to his beliefs, the hierarchy in traditional Palauan

Palauan colonial experiences  49 society functioned well. Higher-ranked people had more obligation, and so had to work harder than others. His hard work is why he was trusted, and people would follow him. Santos criticised the introduction of democracy during the American administration. Today, traditional political systems and democratic political systems coexist in Palau. Elected leaders are not necessarily from high-ranking clans. The notion of the ‘leader’ itself is arguably changing in Palau. Narratives on relations with Japanese Singeo Techong responded to the question, ‘Did you have any Japanese friends when you were a child?’ as below: When I was a child, I had few Japanese friends. If we were together, we might have arguments as Japanese children called us tōmin. In Japanese, they call a person from Tokyo prefecture Tōkyōto-min, a person from Okinawa prefecture, Okinawaken-min, so, it might be fine to call a person from an island tō-min (tō meaning island, and min meaning people). However, we did not understand the meaning, and we felt we were being looked down on, and so we resented such things. From a Japanese point of view, the word tōmin does not in itself have a negative connotation, but in the context of colonial administration, the word must have been used with a disdainful nuance. On hearing the earlier response, the author mentioned a Palauan interviewee whose mother was Palauan and father, Japanese. She said that she had not been treated fairly at shōgakkō (primary school for Japanese), as her mother was Palauan. Singeo said, This world is like that. Palau is such a small island and hard to find on the map. A person from Japan told me that some Japanese believe that cannibalistic tribes live in Palau. But they don’t even know where Palau is located. This person was asked by other Japanese, ‘Why will you visit Palau, the island is inhabited by cannibalistic tribes?’ If that person came to Palau, there are no man-eaters, so that he (she) may have been disappointed. . . . I think that Japanese people are narrow-minded. They live only with Japanese, and don’t know much about people from other countries. Japanese people don’t know how to get along with other people. Because America is a country of many different peoples, they don’t have much prejudice about other races. Based on the memory of racism in Japanese colonial time, Singeo talked about the prejudice of today’s Japanese. He said that some Japanese believe that cannibalistic tribes live in Palau. Then, he began talking about Americans again. This time, he referred to the positive characteristics of the United States. As they are a people from a variety of backgrounds, they tend to have less prejudice against

50  Maki MITA others. Santos Ngirasechedui also mentioned Japanese racism, in the terms of the following: I have to say that I felt discrimination. We were separated when we went to school. The kōgakkō was for us, and the shōgakkō was for Japanese. One day, we had a joint sports competition. We Palauan children never lost the games. Our Japanese teachers were happy to see that. We always defeated the Japanese kids, in running, sumō wrestling, or anything. At that time, Palauan children were physically strong as they worked outside with their parents. Santos initially focused on discrimination, but his narrative then broached a new topic. He started to talk about the sports competition which Palauan children and Japanese children joined in together, and said that Palauans always won. He continued his storytelling as below: In Japanese time, we Palauan children were the strongest. Second were the Okinawan children, and the third were the Japanese children. The Japanese official workers’ children lived in nice houses, and they did not need to work to eat. People from Okinawa were relatively poor, so their children had to work like us. We, Palauan children were taught by our parents how to work. We went with our parents to work, quite often. This custom has faded in the American time. . . . Palauan people at that time were much stronger than Palauans today. Developing his story, Santos explained that when he was a child, the Palauan children were physically strongest, and next were the Okinawan and the last were the Japanese children. In this narrative, Santos talked about the children of Japanese official workers to exemplify ‘Japanese children’. As the headquarters of the Nan’yō-chō (南洋庁 the South Seas Government) was established in Koror, many Japanese civil servants lived there. However, there were also many Japanese workers, including merchants, farmers, and others. Santos also distinguished Okinawans from Japanese. Okinawa was already part of Japan at that time but had been the Ryuku Kingdom until 1872. During Japanese colonisation, many Japanese lived in Palau, and approximately half of them were from Okinawa. Most of them were poor workers. Palauans felt somehow that Okinawans were different from other Japanese. Santos recognised a hierarchy of races in Palau at that time; the Japanese were the highest, then Okinawans, and last, Palauans. However, he claimed that the reverse was true when it came to physical strength. Santos also pointed out a decline in the Palauan custom of hard physical work, since lifestyles changed after the war. Palauans used to do physical work. Today, however, they do not do that very much and so have become weak. Santos yearned for those good old days.

Palauan colonial experiences  51

How these Palauans described their colonial experiences The object of this research was not to extract the past as facts but to examine how the subjects express their reality (in other words, the truth for them) regarding their experiences of that time. Singeo Techong’s narrative includes many events and knowledge from his youth up to the time of this interview. In many oral histories, the speaker’s thoughts at the time of the interviews are reflected in their narratives. Singeo spoke of events from the 1930s and 1940s, more than 60 years earlier. He interpreted the past from his present-day point of view. In addition, Singeo tended to analyse events objectively. He was able to look at the Japanese and American administrations from a distance. This was due partly to his many chances to interact with foreigners, especially Japanese who visited Palau for memorial services after the war. He also had several opportunities to go abroad. In Singeo’s narratives, two primary messages stand out. One is that, ‘We are proud Palauans’, and the other is that, ‘Good old customs of Palau are fading’. The first message is expressed in his narratives about Palauan rules. He explained that to respect others was the most important tenet of Palauan culture and was precisely the quality the colonisers lacked. Regarding the Japanese, he reasoned that they are narrow-minded because they do not have many relations with people of other races, and that even today, some Japanese look on Palauans as ‘primitive savages’. Regarding the United States, Singeo was aware of its cultural diversity. He explained that that diversity has two effects on Americans’ culture. Americans value freedom and tend not to discriminate against people based on race. He thought highly of the latter but regarded the former as having a negative effect on Palau. He believed that it leads to an excessive belief in freedom and damages the traditional tenet of the Palauan community. He criticised both Japan and the United States for their lack of respect for Palauan people, because they did anything that they wanted to in Palau without thinking about how Palauans would feel. The second message, ‘Good old customs of Palau are fading’, is expressed as a nostalgic statement about the past. Past times when the gender roles were clearly defined and when people took care of each other without money are his examples of these cultural tenets. His feelings about the past made him criticise modern-day Palau. In Singeo’s understanding, Palauans have been protected by their cultural tenets, and this protection was collapsing under American influence. Singeo’s interpretations show the reality of his experiences and how he understood Palauan traditions and the colonial impact on island life. His interpretations might not be perfectly accurate from the perspective of historical research. For example, ‘the good old days’ for Singeo are in his youth, in the 1920s–1940s. At that time, Palau had already experienced Spanish and German control and was then under Japanese control. Colonial influences, such as carrying torches at night, or Bible teachings are evident in his narratives. ‘The traditional Palau’ of Singeo’s memory had already been influenced by colonisers.

52  Maki MITA Santos Ngirasechedui’s narrative also interprets Palau’s past from the time when the interview was held. Unlike Singeo, his analysis is more locally based. His narrative is characterised by emphasis on Melekeok identity. Melekeok and Koror have been the villages with the highest status in Palau.7 Santos himself was from a higher-ranking clan in Melekeok. Thus, he was deeply proud of Melekeok. Santos was eager to explain how he was educated by his father and taught to be a good leader. Santos also pointed out that traditional Palauan cultural tenets were fading under the current American influence. He stressed that egalitarianism and the democratic political system introduced by the United States do not suit Palauan culture. In traditional Palau, ideally, each hamlet had ten ranked chiefs, each from a separate clan, and chosen by the women of that clan. Those who worked hard for the community would be chosen. The candidate’s personality and actions were valued, and particular importance was attached to blood lines. The Nan’yō-chō kept the traditional Palauan political system as it was but placed Japanese authority above it. Japanese colonial rule influenced the Palauan political system, but the basic social system was little altered. In addition, Japan was also a hierarchical society which held the emperor to be at the top of that hierarchy, and as such, it was familiar to the Palauan people, who chose their high chiefs based on their blood lines. After World War II, the United States introduced a democratic political system. Under the new system, Palauans were expected to elect their political leaders, including the president, senators, governors, state legislators, and others, by ballot. Those who aspired to leadership roles could be selected, regardless of their clans. In Palau today, the traditional political system and democratic political system coexist and Santos complained about it. He believed that the traditional political system functioned well and had been disrupted by the introduction of the American system. The mention of the old political system and its decline implies in Santos’s view that the ‘good old’ Palauan cultural tenets are fading. Santos also mentioned discrimination during Japanese colonisation. He explained that schools for Palauans and Japanese were segregated. However, soon after that, he spoke about a joint sports festival they held together. He remembered that the Palauan children were physically superior to the Japanese. He explained that it was because they worked together with their parents. He also said that the Palauan children were physically strongest, next were the Okinawans, and the weakest were Japanese children. His narrative reverses the actual social hierarchy at that time. Again, Santos implied the same message as Singeo’s: ‘We are proud Palauans.’ This message gives the impression that they refused to be seen as powerless colonised people but described themselves as proud to have lived during colonial times. Santos stressed that the physical strength of Palauans was based on their lifestyle and that today’s Palauans are physically weak. This is a criticism of modern Palauans, who actually do suffer from lifestyle-related diseases, such as diabetes, high blood pressure, strokes, and other ailments. Santos’s perceptions clearly show his awareness (according to his reality) of the fading of traditional Palauan culture.

Palauan colonial experiences  53

Beyond the narratives In evoking their memories, both men described their individual experiences and, interestingly, conveyed similar messages. They apparently wished to explain to the author, a young Japanese, that they are proud Palauans who had their own cultural tenets but that as a result of colonial administration, they are losing their ‘good old ways’ of living. It is not easy to describe in detail how multiple foreign administrations have influenced their culture or way of living, but it may be deduced that Palauans did not lose their cultural identity under the influences of the colonisers. When the colonising nation changed, new rules, values, languages, and lifestyles flowed in. Palauans have tried to reconcile these old and new ways. In some cases, the old and new coexist, such as old and new political systems. Sometimes, they have integrated the new idea into the old idea, such as kinrōhōshi. When a new colonising power came, everything changed. Those who had grown up in the previous colonial period tended to believe that the ways of their younger days were ‘the good old ways’. For example, Palauans critical of the American period tend to be those who have grown up during the Japanese era, while Palauans who criticised the Japanese period might be those who had grown up during German era. ‘Authentic Palauan traditions’ would certainly be explained differently by those of different generations.8 Finally, the author includes a part of Singeo Techong’s memory which has seldom been told. When telling of his war experiences, he asked, ‘Should I tell you about a particular incident? I did not intend to speak of this.’ On the author’s affirmative reply, he began to talk about a violent incident among refugees from Meyuns hamlet.9 In July 1944, Singeo took refuge in Ngerberuuch hamlet with the people of Meyuns hamlet. Singeo and other men went fishing for the community members. On their way home, Singeo was a little late. When he arrived at the hamlet, he saw his fellows being kicked and beaten by Japanese soldiers. He was also so badly beaten that he could not walk by himself after that. No one there had any idea as to why this had happened. Singeo also mentioned that the fish they had caught have disappeared. He did not say so, but he seems to have suspected they have been stolen by the soldiers. Among the 29 beaten at that time, the most seriously injured was the chief of Meyuns hamlet. He was tied up and beaten so badly that he lost his hearing. Singeo had also had physical problems since then. Singeo said, I wondered why this had happened. This was what the Japanese did. It was one of the worst things that the Japanese did. I tried to make allowances for that incident as it had happened in wartime. Wars brutalize people. . . . The People in Meyuns hamlet know this incident. I had never told others this story until today. Even though Singeo had considerable contact with Japanese after the war, he had not mentioned this memory. Why had he chosen to speak about it at this time?

54  Maki MITA A simple explanation may be that it was because he had been asked. However, there are doubtlessly more complex reasons. This research was originally conducted in order to make recordings of Palauans’ colonial memories for Belau National Museum. One of Singeo’s reasons for sharing this particular story may have been his wish to share his important memories, that they be written and stored as part of the history of Palau in the museum. This narrative shows that there are memories shared amongst Palauans which may not easily be revealed to Japanese. From the colonial experiences of numerous Palauan elders, the author grasped more than just their literal meaning. During the telling and listening to oral histories, information and messages are exchanged beyond words and beyond the intentions of narrators. A natural empathy results from these holistic exchanges. It is usual to feel that something has been missed as the author writes articles focusing only on what words indicate. These spoken narratives are the clues to approach others’ understanding of the past, but beyond the words, we have more to learn.

Acknowledgements This chapter is based on oral accounts collected by the author in Palau in 2006. The accounts are published in my former work, Palauan Children under Japanese Rule: Their Oral Histories (Senri Ethnological Reports 87), from the National Museum of Ethnology, in 2009. I am grateful to the National Museum of Ethnology, in Japan, for allowing me to reprint extracts (including oral accounts and a photograph) from my previous work. I would also like to express my gratitude to Belau National Museum for giving me the opportunity to study Palauans’ oral histories, and for allowing me to use a photograph from their collection. Lastly, I wish to express my profound appreciation to the Palauan elders who kindly shared their memories with me.

Notes 1 Gabriela Ngirmang’s oral history was recorded by the author as part of her research (Mita 2009). For this chapter, instead of quoting former work (Mita 2009), the author rewrote the narratives based on field notes and aimed at reproducing the nuances of the original narratives. 2 For example, Palauan people sometimes ate Japanese dishes, listened to Japanese songs on the radio, and in the city, the elderly watched the Japanese news on TV, as they understood Japanese but not English. 3 Yoshioka uses the term ‘unmarked people’ (Yoshioka 2000: 28) to indicate ‘people who are not famous’, or ‘ordinary people’. 4 For this chapter, instead of quoting former work (Mita 2009), the author rewrote the narratives based on field notes, and aimed at reproducing the nuances of the original narratives. 5 Most multi-race couples in Palau at that time consisted of Japanese man and Palauan woman, the combination of Palauan man and Japanese woman considered taboo (Mita 2009: 240).

Palauan colonial experiences  55 6 Singeo here implies that the United States is a multi-ethnic country. 7 During the Japanese era, the headquarters of the Nan’yō-chō was established in Koror, and Koror became the capital of all Japanese Micronesia. Koror at that time became a modern city; on the other hand, Melekeok was not developed by foreign authorities. That imbalance was arguably uncomfortable for Palauans at that time. 8 In the following chapter, Naoki Ishigaki clarifies different understandings of the colonial powers according to generations. 9 This oral account is exhibited in Belau National Museum by the author.

Bibliography Camacho, Keith L. (2011) Cultures of Commemoration: The Politics of War, Memory, and History in the Mariana Islands. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press. Constitution of the Republic of Palau. (1979), http://www.unesco.org/education/edurights/media/ docs/c4679995d1bddd3ef509ddc66c3cb38e80d492fe.pdf. (Accessed on April 17, 2021). Endo, Hisashi 遠藤央. (2000) ‘The End of the Politics of Negotiation and Consensus: From the Diachronical Study of Power in Palau from 1947 to 1994’ パラオの政治 学一九四七―一九九四：「合意の政治」の終焉. In Sudo Kenichi 須藤健一, ed., National Integration and National Culture in Micro States of Oceania (JCAS Area Studies Research Reports2) JCAS連携研究成果報告２ オセアニアの国家統合と国民文 化, Suita: National Museum of Ethnology, pp. 11–34. Falgout, Suzanne, Lin Poyer, and Laurence M. Carucci. (2008) Memories of War: Micronesians in the Pacific War. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press. Hijikata, Hisakatsu 土方久功. (Ken’ichi Sudo 須藤健一 and Hisao Shimizu 清水久夫, eds.). (2010) The Diary of Hisakatsu Hijikata II (Senri Ethnological Reports 94) 土方 久功日記II (国立民族学博物館調査報告94). Suita: National Museum of Ethnology. Mita, Maki 三田牧. (2008) ‘Remembering Colonial Experiences: Palauan Elders’ Stories of Being Educated as Imperial People, and Being Discriminated Against as Islanders’ 想 起される植民地経験：「島民」と「皇民」をめぐるパラオ人の語り. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 国立民族学博物館研究報告, 33(1):81–133. ———. (2009) Palauan Children under Japanese Rule: Their Oral Histories (Senri Ethnological Reports 87). Suita: National Museum of Ethnology. Mita, Takashi 三田貴. (2013) ‘Palau: Conflicts and Social Anxieties on the Compact of Free Associations with US’ パラオ：自由連合協定をめぐる対立と社会不安. In Norio Niwa and Daichi Ishimori 丹羽典生・石森大知, eds., Conflicts in the Contemporary Oceania: After the Decolonisation 現代オセアニアの＜紛争＞：脱植民地期 以降のフィールドから. Kyoto: Showado, pp. 175–198. ———. (2015) ‘Proud Anti-Nuclear Constitution: A Reliable Weapon of a Small State’ 世 界に誇る非核憲法：小さな国の大きな「武器」. In Into Michiko 印東道子, ed., 60 Chapters to Understand Micronesia, 2nd edition ミクロネシアを知るための60章 (第 2版). Tokyo: Akashi Shoten, pp. 257–261. Murray, Stephen C. (2016) The Battle over Peleliu: Islander, Japanese, and American Memories of War. Tuscaloosa: The University of Alabama Press. Nan’yō Guntō Kyōikukai 南洋群島教育会. (1938) History of Education in the South Seas Islands 南洋群島教育史. Tokyo: Nan’yō Guntō Kyōikukai. Noe, Keiichi 野家啓一. (2005) Philosophy of the Narrative 物語の哲学. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Poyer, Lin., Suzanne Falgout, and Laurence Marshall Carrucci. (2001) The Typhoon of War: Micronesian Experiences of the Pacific War. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press.

56  Maki MITA Rechebei, Elizabeth D. and Samuel F. McPhetres. (1997) History of Palau: Heritage of an Emerging Nation. Koror: Ministry of Education, Republic of Palau. Sakurai, Hitoshi 桜井均. (1981) Micronesian Report: from the Islands of Anti-nuclear ミクロネシア・リポート：非核宣言の島々から. Tokyo: Japan Broadcast Publishing. Sakurai, Atsushi 桜井厚. (2005) Life-stories in the Boundary Culture 境界文化のライフ ストーリー. Tokyo: Serika Syobo. White, Geoffrey M., ed. (1991) Remembering the Pacific War. Honolulu: Center for Pacific Islands Studies, School of Hawaiian, Asian & Pacific Studies, Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press. White, Geoffrey M. and Lamont Lindstrom, eds. (1989) The Pacific Theater: Island Representations of World War II. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press. Yazaki, Yukio 矢崎幸生. (1999) A Study of Trust Territory of Micronesia ミクロネシア信 託統治の研究. Tokyo: Ochanomizu Shobo. Yoshioka, Masanori 吉岡政徳. (2000) ‘Anthropology as a Study of History’ 歴史とかか わる人類学. In Masanori Yoshioka and Isao Hayashi 吉岡政徳・林勲男, eds., Anthropological Studies on the Modern History of Oceania (Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology, Special Issue No.21) オセアニア近代史の人類学的研究：接触と変 貌、住民と国家 (国立民族学博物館研究報告別冊 21), Suita: National Museum of Ethnology, pp. 3–34. Zelenietz, Marty and Hisafumi Saito. (1989) ‘The Kilenge and the War: An Observer Effect on Stories from the Past’. In Geoffrey M. White and Lamont Lindstrom, eds., The Pacific Theater: Island Representations of World War II. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, pp. 167–184.

3 Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ Collisions, contacts, and re-encounters of the Bunun with ‘Japan’ Naoki ISHIGAKI Introduction Japan had ruled Taiwan for 50 years, from 1895 to 1945. More than 70 years later, how do those who had experienced the colonial rule remember the colonial situation at that time, and how do their children and grandchildren recognise the former ruler, Japan? Historians and scholars in other disciplines have studied the history of Japanese colonial rule (e.g. Fujii 1997, 2001; Kitamura 2008; Matsuda 2011; Barclay 2018). On the other hand, numerous fieldwork-based studies of the colonial experience of Han people and Austronesian indigenous peoples in Taiwan have accumulated until recent years (e.g. Mabuchi 1995; Matsuzawa 1999; Mio ed. 2006; Igarashi and Mio eds. 2006; Ueno and Mio ed. 2011). This chapter, taking into account the results of the previous studies, focuses on one of the characteristics of ‘colonial’ rule in Taiwan, namely, the rule of multi-layered foreign powers. As is well known, various settlers and foreign powers, such as the Netherlands, Spain, the Zheng administration, the Qing Dynasty, Japan, and the Republic of China (ROC), have ruled Taiwan. Bearing in mind the historical process in which these foreign powers have ruled Taiwan, this chapter investigates the multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ of Bunun people (布農族), one of the indigenous peoples of Taiwan. The author analyses Bunun people’s narratives, collected through a decade of field research, on the subject of the Japanese administrative era, to investigate how they create a relationship with Japan, the former colonial power, in the post-war era (cf. Yamashita and Yamamoto eds. 1997; Kurimoto and Inose eds. 1999). Bunun, former hunter-gatherers/slash-and-burn farmers in Taiwan’s central mountains, had, through their bravery, been able to extend their territories to the eastern and southern mountains (Mabuchi 1935). In the Japanese era, some of the Bunun resisted until almost the end of colonial rule, but the colonial power forcefully relocated them to the foothills and piedmonts. Their present population is approximately 57,000, and most, like other indigenous groups, earn their livings from agriculture and day labour in villages, and unskilled labour in urban areas. Primary survey sites referred to in this chapter are Bunun’s villages in Sinyi

58  Naoki ISHIGAKI Township, Nantou County of Taiwan’s mid-west, and Yanping Township, Taitung County in the southeast. The former is part of the Bunun homeland, but residents of the area have experienced immigration and developments by Han people since the 1970s. The latter is even relatively new territory for Bunun, in spite of their more than 150 years of settlement in that area. Their ancestors were famous as the group who had kept resisting the Japanese colonisation until the beginning of the 1940s. Through the prism of multi-layered rule of foreign power, this chapter reports the narratives of Bunun’s colonial experience of the Japanese era. It discusses how they and their descendants remember or recognise the history and the present, in the course of continuing governance of the ROC, another ‘foreign power’ for the indigenous peoples of Taiwan, since the end of World War II. The following section summarises the history of policies towards the indigenous peoples of Taiwan by successive foreign powers. Then, using generations as rough criteria to organise Bunun reactions to successive rulers and their policies, the author reports their ‘colonial’ experiences and views on Japan. Finally, focusing on the multi-layered rule of foreign powers and the differences in each informant’s generational-social position, the author discusses their ‘colonial experience’ and attitude towards foreign rulers.

Historical background Japanese colonial era: from taming or suppression to assimilation and Kōminka The history of the rule of foreign powers in Taiwan dates back to the Dutch era of the 17th century. However, the indigenous peoples inhabiting the mountains experienced direct colonial rule only after the Japanese era in the late 19th century. At the beginning of the colonial occupation, the Government-General of Taiwan (台湾総督府) declared the nationalisation of territory in the mountains in October 1895. To obtain natural resources such as camphor, and stabilise the mountainous area, the colonial government constructed security roads and police stations in the indigenous territories. Furthermore, while the colonial government provided the facilities of aborigine children education centres (蕃童教育 所 bandōkyouikusho), trading post, and health clinic to those who accepted the colonial rule, they also thoroughly subdued resistance by force of arms. After the five-year military expedition (五箇年計画理蕃事業 1910–1914), from the 1920s, the colonial government’s policy gradually came to exercise significant influence on the indigenous villages. Parallel to those policies, the government relocated the indigenous people to groups of villages in the mountains or foothills. Further, through this relocation policy, the colonial government occupied most mountainous areas of Taiwan. On the other hand, the government confined indigenous peoples to the reserved areas for aborigines (present indigenous reservations), composed of only 7% (250,000 hectares) of their original territory at the end of the 19th century (cf. Government-General of Taiwan ed. 1997; Fujii 1997; Kitamura 2008; Matsuda 2011).

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  59

Figure 3.1  Map of Bunun territory and research regions. Source: Produced by Naoki Ishigaki.

60  Naoki ISHIGAKI While it appeared that colonial rule had been well implemented, a large-scale anti-Japanese uprising called the Musha Incident (霧社事件), by Sediq people (賽徳克族), occurred in October 1930. In response to this rebellion, the colonial government suppressed the uprising by deploying police and troops. The colonial government also urged other indigenous people hostile to the uprising side to attack the survivors of the incident and their families. The Outline for ­Aborigine Policy (理蕃大綱 ribantaikō), compiled in 1931, advocated the thorough implementation of the existing Aborigine Policy (理蕃 riban). Through the education and industrial promotion by the organisation of aboriginal patriotic youth groups and agricultural training schools and other policies, the colonial government attempted to increase the indigenous youths’ sense of nationalism as ‘the Japanese’. As a result of the imperial subjectification (皇民化 kōminka), during the Pacific War, many indigenous youths joined the Takasago Voluntary Corps (高 砂義勇隊 Takasago Giyūtai) to fight on the fierce battlefields to exemplify their ‘Japanese spirit’. Ironically, members of the voluntary corps also included Sediq youths, whose families and relatives were killed in the Musha Incident and in the ensuing sweeping operation (cf. Tai ed. 1981; Ching 2001; Yamaji 2004; Barclay 2018). Post-war politics and changes: as a member of the state, and the indigenous peoples After World War II, the ROC, which condemned Taiwan, partially followed Japan’s aboriginal policy while adopting the local self-government system into the former special administration area inhabited by indigenous peoples. The indigenous peoples of Taiwan were subsequently renamed ‘Mountain blood Brothers’ (山地同胞) and obliged to use Chinese names by the new ruler. The ROC, an emerging ‘fatherland’, implemented a series of policies for indigenous people, such as dissemination of the national language (standard Chinese), improvement of living, resettlement agriculture, and afforestation. It was a historical shift caused by the change of foreign rulers, from being ‘the Emperor’s subjects’ in the Japanese colonial era to becoming ROC citizens or Chinese after World War II (cf. Fujii 2001). This process was also inextricably linked to how indigenous people’s social systems and cultures have changed in the post-war era. The aboriginal reservations allocated to each household during the Japanese colonial era fragmented due to land registration and the division of households, and the concept of private land ownership became widespread (Ishigaki 2011). Despite the introduction of cash crops, it was not easy to achieve financial independence. Many indigenous youths moved to urban areas in search of jobs. To obtain cash, some indigenous people illegally leased or sold their reservations to Han people. In this way, the indigenous societies were incorporated into the bottom of Taiwan’s national economy (cf. Yan and Yang 2004; Ishigaki 2011). These historical transformations also affected indigenous cultures and religions. In the case of Bunun, the transformation of the livelihood and land system

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  61 during the Japanese colonial period and the post-war era weakened their traditional priests’ authority. Besides, the post-war Christian mission, superimposed on Bunun’s traditional beliefs such as ‘Sky’ as the authority of the world and meritocracy, injected new religious concepts into this society, such as God the Father, the Gospel, and love. (cf. Huang 1992, 2012; Yang 2008). The marginalisation of indigenous societies continued. In response to rising democratisation and the consciousness of ‘Taiwanese’ in the majority, the Austronesian nativistic movement began to demand their rights as ‘indigenous peoples’ of this island from the middle of the 1980s. The leading advocates of this movement were young Austronesian elites who studied at universities and seminaries. The ideology and logic of the global indigenous movement have influenced the movement in Taiwan from the very beginning. Mobilising organisations and networks of Christian churches and others, these Austronesian elites demanded recognition as ‘indigenous peoples’ of this island, the establishment of the Office for Indigenous Peoples in the central government, the return of traditional lands, guaranteed seats in the Diet, and respect for their languages and cultures. Some of their demands were accepted and put into practice by KMT’s (Kuomintang) Li Deng-hui administration (1988–2000) and DPP’s (Democratic Progressive Party) Chen Shui-bian administration (2000–2008). Different political parties ran the two administrations, but both administrations emphasised the ROC’s constitutional and political reformation for Taiwan’s citizens. In response to the rapid rise of the political and economic power of mainland China, KMT’s Ma Yin-jiu administration (2008–2016) restituted the ROC as a Chinese state, and the key policy on indigenous peoples shifted from an emphasis on their rights as indigenous of this island to affirmative relief for the socially vulnerable ethnic minority (cf. Ishigaki 2011, 2014). After the continuing stagnation of the Taiwanese economy and the backlash against the rapid development of the direct China-Taiwan relationship, Han people in Taiwan elected DPP’s Tsai Ing-wen as the first, new female president in 2016. As it stands at present, we need to pay close attention to the Tsai administration’s policy on the indigenous peoples of Taiwan to see whether she will or will not pursue a more affirmative policy for indigenous rights.

Narratives of the first and second generations In the following two sections, based on published documents and field data, Bunun’s reactions to Japan will be reported according to their generations. People’s historical consciousness is formed under a certain social condition they were born and grew up in, as well as by the education they received at modern schools. Furthermore, the social condition or the environment may differ among generations (cf. Mannheim 1952). Even though each society is not constituted by clearly differentiated generations, generation is still one of the crucial criteria for understanding the multiplicity of people’s historical consciousness and its changes following time, and a key in terms of sociological issues (cf. Pilcher 1994). Therefore, paying attention to their generations and the environment which shaped them, this chapter attempts to present Bunun’s collective memory of

62  Naoki ISHIGAKI foreign powers, especially regarding Japan, by describing and analysing various narratives of colonial experience and perceptions of their history. Narratives of the first generation: scepticism, vigilance, and revolt The first generation in this chapter refers to those who had already reached adulthood when they came　into contact with Japan’s rule and were not wholly incorporated into the colonial rule through education at aborigine children education centres. Although some colonial documents reported the voices of indigenous people who attended official observation trips in and outside of Taiwan, or narratives of those who were praised by the colonial government for their ‘good deeds’, there are very few historical documents which directly show how ordinary indigenous people recognised Japan. However, there are fragmentary records from the colonial government of this generation’s reactions to Japanese rule. Furthermore, their children’s generation (the second generation in this chapter), who heard and shared their parents’ narratives, could thus refer to the first generation’s collective memory and their recognition of the permeation of Japanese rule in Bunun society. Indigenous people had not readily accepted the colonial rule from the ­beginning of the Taiwan occupation. The book Aborigine Policy Documents (理蕃誌稿) and the official monthly magazine Companion of Aborigine Policy (理蕃の友) of the colonial police department recorded numerous articles referring to ‘aboriginal attacks’, ‘aborigines’ revolt’, ‘punitive expedition’, ‘escape from the colonial rule’, and so forth. Relatively well known examples of Bunun’s revolt or refuge from the Japanese colonial rule included the suppression of the northern Bunun villages and their submission in 1906 to 1907, the Dahun Incident (ターフン事件) in 1915, Bunun’s attack on the Dandai police station called the Dandai Incident (丹大事件) in 1917, the Toshiyo village Incident (トシヨ社事件) in 1921, the escape of alleged Dahun Incident’s masterminds and others to the southern mountains in 1922 and 1928, and others.　In addition, the following incidents are examples of Bunun’s anti-Japanese revolts after the Musha Incident. The Daikanzan Incident (大関山事件) in 1932, the Ohzaka Incident (逢坂事件) in 1933 that occurred in the southern part of the Central Mountains, and the Naihonroku Incident (内本鹿事件) in 1941, in which Bunun attacked police stations in the mountains of Taitung after the implementation of the relocation policy (cf. Government-General of Taiwan Police Department 1995; GovernmentGeneral of Taiwan Police Department Aborigine Policy Division 1993). We may also understand the first generation’s sceptic and vigilant reaction to Japanese colonial rule from stories handed down to the second generation.1 Case 1 ‘Japanese, Sh*t!’ L was born in 1926 in a village at Naihonroku, a mountainous area of Taitung. Due to a forceful relocation policy after the Naihonroku Incident, she left the

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  63 former village with her family for a new foothill village, in 1941. She still remembers her father’s voice in anger at that time, ‘Lipun taki!’ (Japanese, sh*t!) as he looked back at the village burned by the Japanese. Case 2 Dissatisfaction with the relocation policy When T, born in 1931, was four or five years old, he and his family were also forced to migrate from a village near the upstream side of the Sinbulo river in the northern part of Taitung to the new village in the foothills. He testified that his father was highly reluctant to leave his village, but was finally persuaded by relatives and moved to the present village. Case 3 Opposition to adoption D was born in a village in the central mountains, in 1923. He lost his father at an early age. At approximately age ten, he attended an aborigine children education centre where Y, a Japanese police officer-cum-teacher, very much liked D. Because Y and his wife could not have children, he asked D’s mother if they could adopt D. D’s Mother was reluctant to reply to their proposal. When D’s uncle, the mother’s elder brother, heard the story, he rushed into the police station and protested about Y saying, ‘if you take my nephew away, I will kill all the Japanese here.’ As a result, Y and his wife desisted from adopting D.2 Reactions of the second generation: after the experience of assimilation and Kōminka As we see in the following, the reactions to Japan and views of Japan for the second generation, those who received primary education in the colonial era during their childhood or youth, generally seem ‘pro-Japanese’.3 Case 4 As a member of the Takasago Voluntary Corps E, born in 1920, is an elder brother of L mentioned in case 1. Because his father hated the Japanese rule, he was not allowed to attend aborigine children education centre. However, after World War II began, he fought in New Guinea as a member of the Takasago Voluntary Corps. According to E, there was an atmosphere that implied, to die for the Emperor was right, and people thought those who went off to war despite the risk of death were the bravest of men. As part of his heroic stories on the battlefield, he also mentioned that ‘Japan, even though it was a small country with few battleships, was very greedy, because she wanted to be one of the world’s first-rate countries’, and ‘Japan fought with men, but the U.S. fought with weapons. You can’t win with such a huge difference.’

64  Naoki ISHIGAKI Although Taitung area is relatively new territory for Bunun in their expansion history, most Bunun residents of Yanping Township regard the mountainous area, called ‘Naihonroku’ (Laipunuk, in Bunun language), as their homeland. The name of this area was derived from ‘Oponoh’, the former residents, a sub-group of other indigenous people, Rukai. This area is also known as the stage of the Naihonroku Incident (1941), one of the last revolts of indigenous peoples of Taiwan in the Japanese colonial era. In Yanping Township, an indigenous foundation runs a tourist facility called the ‘Bunun Village’, showing indigenous songs and dances and selling products such as ethnic craftworks to tourists. In the early 2000s, the foundation worked on a project for remembering the Naihonroku Incident by staging a play, trekking to old villages in the mountains, mapping them, and making documentary films of their research. In this project, the foundation regarded Haisul, a Bunun man who masterminded the incident and his fellows, as the last resistants against Japan’s colonial rule, and emphasised their bravery. Case 5 ‘Haisul was not the hero’ However, R, an elderly man, born in 1932, who acted in the play, said, ‘To tell the truth, Haisul was not our hero. Because of his attack, all of us had to leave our old village. Many people complained about the restriction on hunting after the incident.’ In 2002, the foundation received the government’s support and took some Bunun elders to their former village in the Naihonroku in a helicopter. R led his old friends in singing the Japanese national anthem in front of the stationary flagstaffs. He said, ‘For no particular reason. We just sang for the sake of old times at our aborigine children education centre.’ Case 6 ‘Killing Japanese would not mean much’ W was born of Han people father, a local interpreter/negotiator, and Bunun mother in 1930, and grew up in a village in the foothill of Naihonroku. The Naihonroku Incident happened when she was at an aborigine children education centre. She remembers that, even as a child, ‘I felt sorry for the deaths of police officer Sugawara and another officer’s young son. After moving to a foothill village, it would not mean much killing Japanese.’ While she testified, some Bunun said that ‘Haisul did well! It was revenge on the Japanese’, at that time. However, according to W, her husband, born in 1923, a member of Haisul’s sub-clan, later participated in the Takasago Voluntary Corps and poured out his feeling about the incident during his life: ‘The incident was really troublesome for us, and I was annoyed with him.’ Case 7 War Songs and ‘Providing you with a special document!’ P was born in a village of the central mountains, which belongs to present-day Shinyi Township, Nantou County, in 1922. By following Japan’s relocation

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  65 policy, her family and relatives moved to a new village in the foothills, when she was at age 12. Every time she met the author in her village, she said, ‘I have missed the Japanese so much. We sent many soldiers off to war with Japan’s national flag and war songs.’ As in other villages, many Bunun elders of the foothill village showed particular deference to the author because of his Japanese nationality. A Bunun elderly man said, ‘Japan lost the war, but the Japanese spirit (日本精神 Nipponseishin) would never be lost.’ Another elderly woman gave the author a play script for their performance of traditional annual festivals. The script was written in simple Japanese characters (katakana), which the second generation learned to read and write at their aborigine children education centres during the Japanese colonial era. She explained the reason to share such an important document with the author as follows: ‘because, Bali, (author’s Bunun name), you come from Japan. Please make good use of your research.’ The second generation in post-war Taiwan: relations with Japan Due to Japan’s defeat in World War II, the ROC incorporated Taiwan under its governance. Although there was a time lag, the ‘wave of Sinicisation’ crashed into indigenous societies. Despite this, some of the second generations kept the connection with Japan in post-war Taiwan. Case 8 A Proposal to the Imperial Succession U, born in 1927, assigned to the Navy as ‘volunteer’ just before the defeat, lived in a foothill village in the central mountains as a devout Christian after the war. During field research in the early 2000s, he repeatedly enquired about the situation of the Imperial Succession of Japan as follows:　‘I am anxious about the Imperial Succession of Japan. I heard that the Crown Prince has no boy yet. Bali, please send Japanese people a proposal from Bunun in Taiwan that you do not need to choose a female, even if no boy is born. It is better to select a good-hearted boy as the successor from relatives close to the Emperor, as we Bunun do.’ Case 9 Willingness to join reinforcements, problems of Japanese diplomacy B, born in 1928, belongs to the same sub-clan as the Naihonroku Incident’s mastermind, but is famous for being ‘pro-Japanese’. He received one-month’s military training at 15. According to him, in 1945, hearing of the U.S. military’s invasion of Okinawa, he wanted to join the reinforcements, but the superior rejected his offer due to the shortage of battleships. After the war, B accompanied a group of Han people ex-soldiers to the Yasukuni Shrine. During the interview, he often interrupted the author’s questions and criticised the weak-kneed diplomacy of Japan’s current strategy and spoke about Japan’s strategy to dominate in World War II. On the other hand, B compared

66  Naoki ISHIGAKI the education of colonial Japan and post-war Taiwan and criticised the latter for corrupting Bunun’s younger generations. Case 10 Connections with former Japanese teachers T, in case 2, received six years of Japanese education at an aborigine children education centre in the mountainous area of Taitung. After his graduation, K, a Japanese police officer, engaged T and his friend as odd job men at the police station because of T’s industriousness and Japanese skill. In the 1980s, T heard that a Bunun friend was in contact with D, another exJapanese police officer-cum-teacher. T wrote letters to D and visited his house in Nagoya three times. About 20 years ago, D’s Taiwan-born daughter also visited Taiwan. After that, they contacted one another several time by letter. According to T, Japanese police officers and teachers took care of Bunun children in the colonial era. T said, ‘There were some strict teachers, but they did not hit students so long as we obeyed instructions. So, I still miss Japan and the Japanese, because the Japanese are not strangers. I wish to contact K’s offspring.’4 Not all those of this generation are ‘pro-Japanese’ as the previous case shows. A female Bunun elder, born in the early 1920s in the central mountains, said, ‘[B]ecause I did not have a Japanese education, I have no particular impression of the Japanese.’ An elderly man, born in 1933 in a village of Naihonroku, said, ‘My impression of the Japanese was that they were strict,’ which is why I was not familiar with the Japanese.’ Even in W’s narrative in case 6, we may confirm that the villagers’ voices at that time supported Haisul’s uprising against Japan. However, compared with other generations, it is undeniable that the second generations tend to have an attitude that Japanese citizens like to regard as ‘pro-Japanese’.

Narratives of the third and fourth generations This section presents the post-war generations’ narratives about Japan. The third generation indicates the generation of the second generation’s children, and the fourth generation as their grandchildren or those who grew up during democratisation and the indigenous movement. Born after the war, they did not experience Japanese colonial rule in its literal meaning. However, they have also formed their historical and national consciousness under the preceding generations’ colonial or post-war experience. What do the post-war generations think of Japan’s colonial rule, which their parents and grandparents experienced? Compared with older generations’ experience, what are their perceptions in terms of post-war and present-day Taiwan? The post-war generations’ views of Japan and the ROC may provide important suggestions for considering the perceptual gaps among generations and the historical changes in relations between the indigenous peoples of Taiwan and the foreign powers.

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  67 Post-war generation (1): ROC’s ‘education for nationalisation’ and the third generation Case 11 ‘Brainwashing by Japanese’ and ‘We Chinese’ H, born in 1958, works in the Bunun Village, mentioned earlier. Although usually the silent type, when inebriated, he often criticised Japan for the Nanjing Massacre, the Musha Incident, Exploitation of labour and mountain forest resources. Furthermore, he repeatedly asserted that most Bunun in his parents’ generation were ‘brainwashed’ as ‘pro-Japanese’ by the colonial government. In recent years, H has been working at the Bunun Village, which promotes Bunun’s history and culture, and has strengthened his identity as belonging to the ‘indigenous peoples’ of Taiwan. However, even now, he said, in some situations, ‘Japanese are descendants of Chinese in ancient times who searched for the medicine for perpetual youth and longevity. You Japanese are the same as we Chinese.’ Case 12 ‘Taiwan is a part of China’ and ‘After all, we are a minority’ K, born in 1957, is a son of U in Case 8.　After working for the military for more than ten years, he has worked in the township office.　According to K, ‘There is no doubt that Taiwan is historically part of China.’ K also has an identity as ‘indigenous’.　However, he said, ‘After all, we are nothing more than a minority.’ Taking a carefree attitude, he said even if the Chinese Communist Party attacks Taiwan, Bunun has no choice but to beg for the new ruler’s support and get along with them, alleging ‘Han people in Taiwan have oppressed us.’ Case 13 Han people and ‘we are the true Taiwanese’ F, born in 1957, has been a primary school teacher for many years in Sinyi Township. Interaction with benshenren (a person or descendants of Han people who immigrated to Taiwan before Japanese colonial rule) since his childhood made him believe that their interpersonal relations contrast with that of Bunun and other indigenous peoples of Taiwan. According to F, benshenren seemed to be used to outfoxing others, while Bunun considers friendship to be important. On the other hand, he supposes waishengren (a person or descendants of Han people who immigrated to Taiwan World War II with KMT) are still credible because they do not usually show disrespect for the Indigenous peoples of Taiwan and also recognise their status as relative newcomers in this island. However, he does not fully trust ROC education, which claims that it is the liberator of Taiwan. According to F, Bunun elders of his parents’ generation appreciated Japan’s rule, and his grandfather also did not criticise the colonial

68  Naoki ISHIGAKI policy, despite condemnation by the ROC government. ‘In either case, they are all foreigners from mainland China, we are the true natives of this island.’ ‘If benshenren and waishenren want to keep on living in Taiwan, they should try to find a compromise between them and then ask the natives for permission’, he said. Case 14 Strict father’s Japanese-style education M, born in 1956, is the eldest daughter of B in Case 9. For M, her father was a strait-laced man, who neither smoked nor drank alcohol, and raised the children through a strict Japanese-style education. He ordered family members to obey him and was sometimes violent towards his wife and children. Married to a neighbouring villager at 17, as a devout Christian, she had a significant role in her church. Because she was a Christian, emphasising the love of Jesus, she could not accept her father’s violence. However, she now realises that considering pre-war and war-time conditions, Japanese-style education must have been necessary for her father’s generation. Post-war generation (2): the third and the fourth generations during democratisation and the indigenous movement The fourth generation is the third generation’s children’s generation who experienced the post-war Sinicisation/Nationalisation policy. However, the fourth generation, as well as some in the third generation, also grew up during democratisation and the indigenous movement since the middle of the 1980s. Furthermore, their reactions to Japan as the former ruler and perceptions of the current ROC government have unique characteristics, differing from those of older generations. Case 15 Education as Chinese, and awakening as Indigenous Born in 1963, N is the younger brother of the Bunun Cultural and Educational Foundation’s president and ex-manager of the foundation’s cultural department. Although born to a Paiwan father and Bunun mother and having grown up in a village in Yanping Township, he had never doubted his Chinese identity until joining the army and having discussions with friends of Han people on their ancestral roots when he was about 20 years old. The mid1980s was the time the indigenous movement in Taiwan began. In that social atmosphere, N became increasingly aware of his identity as belonging to the indigenous people of this island. While criticising Japan’s colonial rule for depriving them of their land resources and cultures, he now sets his overall mission as ‘revealing the history of Laipunuk’ and ‘linkage of the local history and present-day Bunun’.

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  69 Case 16 Generational disparities in the consciousness and images of Japan Q was born in 1965, in Zhuoxi Township, Hualien County. During her youth, she lived in Taipei for school. After completing her studies at a Christian seminary, she and her husband started to work for a Church in Sinyi Township. For Q, it is a matter of course that people in each generation have different awareness and views of foreign rulers, such as Japan. Also, she supposes that we could distinguish the generations as the grandparents’ generation of revolt, the parents’ generation of Japanese education, the middle year’s generation who received nationalisation education by ROC, and the younger generation who grew up during the democratisation and indigenous movement. As a pastor, the Christian faith and identity as ‘Bunun’ and ‘indigenous peoples of Taiwan’ are essential to her life. ‘Because I was not governed by Japan directly, and honestly, I do not have any strong feeling or sentiment towards Japan, except for views such as a major economic power, electrical products, industriousness’, she said. Case 17 The image of Japan as insignificant others C was born in 1972 in a village in Sinyi Township. After graduating from university and passing the civil service examination, he returned home and started to work in a public facility. Through school education, he learned the view of ‘Japan’ and ‘the Japanese’ as the atrocious and cunning invader. However, since coming to understand Japanese culture through mass media and direct interactions with Japanese people, those views have faded. He said, ‘There are good people and bad people in every country’, and while he appreciates the economic power and diligence, Japan is ‘insignificant others’ for his generation. Case 18 Importance of education, and awakening as indigenous Born in 1975, Y works for the foundation mentioned above. She also experienced a nationalisation policy by the ROC from her youth. Although it now appears comical to her, reverence to Chiang Kai-shek statues, hoisting national flags, and singing national anthems at assembly denoted pupils’ mandatory allegiance at that time. However, due to the influence of the foundation and its president, an indigenous rights advocate and Presbyterian minister, she has become aware of ‘being Bunun’ and ‘being an indigenous person’. She supports DPP for its strong ‘Taiwan consciousness’, but her ideal is ‘indigenism’. As to the pro-KMT stream among the indigenous peoples of Taiwan, she supposes, ‘It is a matter of education, and lack of knowledge and our self-consciousness as the indigenous peoples of Taiwan.’

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Discussion: Bunun’s multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ The previous sections have offered overviews of foreign rulers’ policies against the indigenous peoples of Taiwan and reported their narratives and reactions to rulers, such as Japan and the ROC. This following section presents and analyses the characteristics of the cases reported earlier, based on findings from previous studies. Generational disparities in consciousness and image of Japan First of all, there are disparities in the consciousness and views of Japan among generations. Primarily focusing on the narratives and consciousness of ‘the generation of Japanese education’, the previous studies highlight Taiwan’s indigenous peoples’ ‘acceptance of Japanese education’ and ‘appropriation’ of what they learned (e.g. Mabuchi 1995; Matsuzawa 1999). However, when we focus on the multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ in Taiwan and extend the scope of the study to the older and younger generations, we find considerable differences in the consciousness and view of Japan. Although not based on primary sources, but according to colonial documents and narratives handed down to the second generation, for the first generation, Japan was an object of scepticism, vigilance, revolt, and an unwelcome stranger. They sometimes attacked forestry workers and Japanese police, rejected colonial rule, and fled deep into the mountains. This situation had continued until the end of the colonial period, especially in the Southern Mountains in Taitung and Kaohsiung. It was different in the case of other indigenous peoples, such as Ami, Puyuma, Paiwan, who had accepted Japan’s colonial rule relatively early. However, even in Bunun society, the author finds a change in consciousness and view of Japan among the second generation, who had experienced Japanese education since childhood. As Japan and the Japanese became part of daily life, most Bunun in this generation came to regard the Japanese as teaching and supporting Bunun, even though their rule was strict. In this generation, some joined the army, and some did not sympathise with anti-Japan revolts; some visited Yasukuni Shrine, some re-established old ties with former teachers, and some proposed opinions on Japan’s imperial succession. Meanwhile, most Bunun in the third generation, who received post-war ROC patriotic policy and education, regard Japan as the unwelcome coloniser who invaded their fatherland, China, and exploited natural and human resources in Taiwan. Some of them consider their parents’ generation’s ‘pro-Japanese’ as the result of ‘brainwashing’ by the Japanese. However, some in the fourth generation have another distinctive consciousness and view of Japan, different from that of older generations. In this generation, people grew up on the rising tide of democratisation and the indigenous movement. With the influx of Western culture and China’s economic development in recent years, some recognise that Japan is no longer the unwelcome colonial power but just one of the economic powers or centres of contemporary culture

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  71 in the Asia-Pacific region. At the same time, they understand, from the historical perspective, the older generations’ ambivalent attitudes towards Japan and ROC. As related studies point out, changes in the social and politico-economic environment may well influence people’s historical consciousness and views of Japan. It is impossible to cover the entirety of Bunun’s ‘colonial experiences’ or the views of Japan merely through the examples in this chapter. Besides, the generational classification is simply a rough indication, as there are doubtless cases that do not correspond to this classification. For example, the fragmentary narratives indicate that not all Bunun of the second generation is ‘pro-Japanese’. Furthermore, based on their relations with the older generations and the environment they grew up in, some even in the third generation try to relativise the ROC’s nationalisation policy and have similar views of ‘Japan’ and ‘the ROC’, as some in the fourth generation. Despite the diversity in cases, it is certain that Bunun narratives of ‘colonial experience’ and views of Japan have changed with the times and over ‘generations’. We find various intersections in the experience of each generation or individual Bunun against the multi-layered foreign power’s rules. The disparities of Bunun’s consciousness and views of Japan and its historical changes mentioned earlier indicate the validity of previous studies, which argued for the necessity of taking into account the importance of the political and economic relations in East Asian countries, ethnic group relations within Taiwan, social stratum, and generations, for the investigation of people’s historical consciousness and its changes (cf. Huang 2003). Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ and ‘Japan’ in post-war Taiwan Bunun’s position was that of ‘the last resister’ against Japan’s colonial rule. As previous studies and the cases in this chapter mentioned, some who directly experienced the Aborigine Policy in their adolescence emphasised ‘masculinity and honour’ or the need for ‘approval’, and joined the army in the name of the ‘Japanese spirit’ (e.g., Ching 2001; Huang 2001; Yamaji 2004; Case 4 of this chapter). Some Bunun, criticising the ROC’s post-war governance and excessive freedom in contemporary Taiwan, extolled past Japan and its education. In this respect, previous studies have reported the situations in which some Han people tried to accept and manipulate culture and civilisation brought by Japan’s rule actively for their human relations and business (e.g. Horie 2006; Kamizuru 2006). However, as far as the cases in this chapter are concerned, it seems unlikely that Bunun had manipulated Japan culture and civilisation for their ends, as some Han people in Taiwan had. Instead, these cases indicate that for Bunun, who kept revolting sporadically until almost the end of colonial rule, Japanese culture and civilisation had not been acquired enough to be manipulated. It seems that even for Bunun of the second generation, who had relatively direct interactions with Japanese police officers and teachers in their daily lives, Japan was only a part of their early childhood and youthful memory remembered with nostalgia. Although most second-generation Bunun experienced Japanese education in aborigine

72  Naoki ISHIGAKI children education centres, their Japanese proficiency was relatively low, compared with other indigenous peoples exposed earlier to Japan’s colonial rule, and with Han people who used Chinese culture as a foundation, and acquired the chance of higher education and social status. We see this situation from the 1930s’ document, indicating that no Bunun pursued further education after leaving aborigine children education centres (cf. Kitamura 2008: 253).5 For most of the second generation, Japanese education was the first and last modern education they experienced. In post-war Taiwan, they had no choice but to learn the Chinese language and culture through TV programmes, newspapers, and communications with Han people, by themselves. Bunun elders in Nantou County use ‘savage student’ (蕃童 Pantu in Bunun pronunciation) to refer to themselves without criticising the sense of discrimination which the word has, and other elders in Taitung County sang the Japanese national anthem they had learned at aborigine children education centres. We need to understand the second generations’ present reactions to Japan as nostalgia for the days of their youth.6 Although the second and third generations’ attitudes and views of Japan are different, there seems to be a similarity between these two generations’ perceptions and reactions to Japan or ROC. Even though the levels vary from acceptance without critical examination to critical objectification, it is obvious that both generations accept the foreign powers’ rule and education. As in case 4 and case 9, even among those who had experienced the Imperialisation policy, some recently indicated problems regarding Japan’s policy during World War II, and some criticised the weak-kneed diplomacy of the current Japanese government. However, compared with the first generation who were sceptical of Japan and resisted with force or aggressively escaped from colonial rule, Bunun in the second and later generations accepted the foreign rulers’ governance and their auspices. The cases reported in the section ‘Narratives of the third and fourth generations’ of this chapter are examples of such a reality: the narratives of ‘brainwashing by the Japanese,’ ‘we Chinese’ (case 11), ‘Taiwan is a part of China,’ ‘after all, we are a minority’ (case 12). Although the post-war ROC replaced Japan’s pre-war and war-time status as the foreign ruler, most Bunun of the second and later generations have accepted the foreign ruler’s governance as a matter of course and formed their consciousness as citizens of a modern state. Few Bunun are conscious of the changes in their status in Taiwan’s history. Even the Bunun who are aware of it live in the present situation while accepting that they are only a minority on this island. This similarity beyond pre- and post-war generations exemplifies the characteristics of Bunun’s ‘colonial experience’ forced to accept the multiple foreign powers’ rules and education policies, and perhaps the typical, to some extent, general features of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples’ ‘colonial experience’. Concerning the view of the state and the acceptance of its governance, Yang Shu-yuan raises the point as follows: Bunun’s compliant attitude towards the state and its governance is related to their cultural concept of power. While emphasising meritocracy, they occasionally accept their status as weak and expect protection and support from those in power. Referring to previous

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  73 studies on the concept of power and politics in Bunun society, primarily by Huang Ying-kuei (e.g. Huang 1998), and discussions on analysis of resistance by S. Ortner, Yang emphasised the importance of considering Bunun’s cultural concept of power (Yang 2005). Furthermore, she argued, Bunun’s compliance with the state may exercise ‘quite effective agency’ (Yang 2005: 507, cf. Ortner 1997: 148). However, more detailed and comparative investigation is required to assess the potential of Bunun’s compliance as an ‘quite effective agency.’ The examples in this chapter suggest that, while its cultural aspect should not be underestimated, agency is not a coherence inherent in specific groups or individuals regardless of the times and situations, but it is historically produced or transformed in the power relations among multiple actors and their mutual ­recognition (cf. Ortner 2006). Lastly, a slight change has taken place in Bunun’s current reactions to the foreign ruler’s governance and education policy, and their consciousness of history and state. Although the number is small, a part of the second and third generation, especially a part of the fourth generation, has critical views on the history of foreign governance. Furthermore, retracing their history of being indigenous peoples of Taiwan, some Bunun are exploring the possibility of self-governance as natives of their land. As a matter of course, because now the modern state rule has spread throughout the villages in the mountains, self-governance by indigenous peoples, which constitute only 2% of Taiwan’s total population, has many limitations. However, after foreign power’s multi-layered rule, the emerging of historical consciousness and identity as the indigenous peoples of this island is the significant sign of change.

Conclusion This chapter first overviewed the history of the modern foreign rulers’ policy on the indigenous peoples of Taiwan and also attempted to elucidate the way Bunun corresponded to Japanese colonial rule and how they regard their colonial past and post-war Taiwan from the present point of view. Besides, for comparison, this chapter also paid attention to that of post-war Bunun’s view of Japan and the ROC. From these examples, we may summarise Bunun’s characteristics of multilayered ‘colonial experience’ as follows. First, Bunun’s response and view of Japan are different, with the changes in each generation’s historical and social circumstances. In general, some Bunun in the first generation resisted Japan, and the second generation gradually accepted Japan and her rule through the implementation of the governance and educational system. On the other hand, some in the third generation, who experienced post-war Sinicisation, with self-recognition as citizens of the ROC, accused Japan of brainwashing their parents’ generation. Furthermore, some of the third and fourth generations, who grew up during the rise of democratisation and the indigenous movement, relativise the successive foreign rulers and seek selfreliance or self-governance as indigenous peoples of Taiwan. We may describe

74  Naoki ISHIGAKI Bunun’s situation as the generational intersections over the multi-layered ‘colonial experience’. Second, there seem to be very few conditions in which Bunun strategically use the Japanese language and culture for individuals’ social advancement or economic advantage. This tendency may be related not only to Bunun’s culture but also to the fact that they were the last to resist Japan’s colonial rule. Therefore, the permeation of Japan’s rule into their lives was relatively short and superficial. This trajectory differs from that of Han people and other indigenous peoples of Taiwan, who lived in the plains or foothills and faced foreign rules earlier. As far as the second generation’s cases are concerned, Japan is not the object to be utilised or manipulated. Instead, it constitutes a part of their childhood and adolescence nostalgia. Third, more than 70 years have passed since the end of World War II, and post-war generations’ image of Japan as the brutal and evil coloniser has been gradually mitigated through information from mass media and increasing direct interactions. Conversely, though, the influx of Western culture and the rise of China’s economic power are part of a trend that decreases Japan’s influence on indigenous society, such as the Bunun. If Japanese scholars were interested only in Japan’s colonial rule and the influence on post-war Taiwan, this would lead not to a deeper appreciation of the subject they study but to an unintended overevaluation of Japan. Fourth, although some Bunun of the third and fourth generations, relativising the imprinting of nationalism and history education by successive foreign rulers, seek self-reliance or self-governance as indigenous peoples of Taiwan, most Bunun still view the government’s protection of the weak as self-evident. From a historical standpoint, we might understand Bunun’s modern history under multi-layered foreign power rules as the change from tenacious resistors to the obedient ruled. Some Bunun of the second generation criticise Japan’s foreign wars of the day, Japan’s current foreign policy, and post-war Taiwan’s social problems and education policy. Besides, some in the third and fourth generations are seeking self-governance through roots trips and mapping projects of their ancestors’ traditional territory (Ishigaki 2011). However, even criticism against a foreign ruler may unintentionally be based on other foreign ruler’s point of view, and the fact that these narratives and practices affirming Bunun as the indigenous people of this island have not yet entered the mainstream within Bunun society itself may well be one of the characteristics of their multi-layered ‘colonial experience’.7 The question is whether or not Bunun’s identity and historical consciousness as indigenous peoples of Taiwan, which has burgeoned after a century of multi-layered foreign power’s rules, will take deep root in their society under Tsai Ing-wen’s new administration. And then, what would happen in terms of their view and attitude towards Japan or the ROC? Taking into account comparisons to other indigenous peoples in Taiwan, we have to keep a close watch on the future of Bunun’s multi-layered ‘colonial experience’ and their intersections.

Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  75

Acknowledgements Field data for this chapter were primarily gathered in the course of long-term field research 2003–2005 and short-term supplemental surveys from 2010 to 2013. I wish to thank Professor Mio for her research project’s financial assistance to my supplementary surveys since 2010. Unfortunately, some of the interviewees, especially in the second generation, are now deceased. I would like to express my profound gratitude for their generous support of my research and sincerely hope this short chapter will keep their living testimonies in history.

Notes 1 As for strained Bunun-Japanese relations in the colonial era, we see the following examples: Japanese police officers persuading a Bunun leader to leave the old village (Ishigaki 2011: 137), a Japanese police officer’s fear of visiting a Bunun mountain village in Taitung (Aoki 2002), and so forth. Kitamura (2008: 50–54), and Suenari (2011) mentions other indigenous people’s scepticism and vigilance about Japan in the early years of the colonial rule. 2 Adopting (saipuk in Bunun language) an infant from other patrilineal clans or ethnic groups was not standard but was permitted in traditional Bunun society. In case 3, the uncle’s anxiety about his nephew being taken to a distant place in Japan occasioned his outraged reaction. There are other examples of Bunun, such as Iyon Habao, adopted by a Japanese police officer. See note 5. 3 As the examples in this chapter show, there was a significant perception gap between the first and second generations regarding Japan’s colonial rule. For further insight into the colonial government-led ‘patriotic youth groups’ organised from the 1930s in indigenous villages and the frictions between the newly formed associations and traditional village organisations, see Sung Siu-Huan’s study of Ami (Sung 2000). 4 T still remembers an incomprehensible event when he was at an aborigine children education centre. An exacting Japanese teacher-cum-police officer ordered students to slap each other for ‘None of you appreciate being kept alive, even if you are poor’. Meanwhile, regarding teacher K, Professor Mio discovered, through research on a colonial document, that he was from the Amami Islands in Kagoshima prefecture. In 2013, T and K’s offspring eventually met in Taiwan. 5 Although a rare case in Bunun society, there was an example of higher education in the colonial era. Iyon Habao, mentioned in note 2, was born in 1920 and adopted by a Japanese police officer along with his younger brothers. After studying agriculture and forestry at Taihoku Imperial University as a student supported by the colonial government, he worked at a company and joined the 7th Takasago Voluntary Corps. After the war, he also served as the mayor of Ren’ai Township and as a county assembly member. In an interview in the mid-1990s, he emphasised colonial education and ‘Japanese spirit’. On the other hand, having participated in a campaign to claim compensation since the 1970s, he also poured out his dissatisfaction with the Japanese government’s post-war compensation for former Japanese military personnel of Han people (cf. Hayashi ed.1998). 6 We cannot deprecate the post-war’s other education and enlightenment, i.e., Christianity (cf. Yang 2008). Regarding Christianity’s influence on the second and subsequent generations’ views of the state and the world, and their historical recognition, the topic merits consideration in an additional article. 7 Such a situation is not specific to Bunun: other peoples forcefully thrown into modern society by a foreign power and still living other foreign power’s rule may face similar predicaments in their ‘colonial experience’.

76  Naoki ISHIGAKI

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Multi-layered ‘colonial experience’  77 ナル／グローバルな潮流とローカル社会の現実. In Shunyi Taiwan Aborigines Research Group in Japan, ed., 日本順益台湾原住民研究会 Perspectives of Studies on Indigenous Peoples in Taiwan: Past and Present to be Connected. 台湾原住民研究 の射程―接合される過去と現在. Taipei: Shun Ye Museum of Formosan Aborigines, pp. 77–105. Kamizuru, Hisahiko 上水流久彦. (2006) ‘Japanese Language as a Tool for Making Selfportrait: How to Analyse “Japan” in Taiwan’ 自画像形成の道具としての「日本 語」―台湾社会の「日本」を如何に考えるか. In Masako Igarashi 五十嵐真子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., ‘Japan’ in Post-war Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilisation of Colonial Experience 戦後台湾における〈日本〉―植民地経験の連 続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 187–216. Kitamura, Kae 北村嘉恵. (2008) The History of Education on Taiwan Aborigines under the Japanese Colonialism 日本植民地下の台湾先住民教育史. Hokkaido: Hokkaido University Press. Kurimoto, Eisei 栗本英世 and Kumie Inose 井野瀬久美恵, eds. (1999) Colonial Experience: An Approach from Anthropology and History 植民地経験―人類学と歴史学か らのアプローチ. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin. Mabuchi, Satoru 馬淵悟. (1995) ‘Formosan Natives’ Views of the Japanese: As Japanese Narcissist Mirror’ 「うぬぼれ鏡」としての台湾原住民の日本人観. In Toh God 合 田濤 and Kazuo Otsuka 大塚和夫, eds., Current Situation of Ethnography: Modern, Development, and Others 民族誌の現在―近代・開発・他者. Tokyo: Koubundo, pp. 125–141. Mabuchi, Toichi 馬淵東一. (1935) ‘Chapter 3 Bunun’ 第三章　ブヌン族 (Bunun). In Institute of Ethnology Taihoku Imperial University 台北帝国大学土俗・人種学研究 室, ed., The Formosan Native Tribes: A Genealogical and Classificatory Study 台湾高 砂族系統所属の研究. Tokyo: Tokoshoin, pp. 107–174. Mannheim, Karl. (1952) ‘The Problem of Generations’. In Paul Kecskemeti, ed., Essays on the Sociology of Knowledge. London: Routledge, pp. 276–322. Matsuda, Yoshirou 松田吉郎. (2011) Social Indoctrination Project for Taiwan Aborigines 台湾原住民の社会的教化事業. Kyoto: Koyo Shobo. Matsuzawa, Kazuko 松澤員子. (1999) ‘Japan’s Taiwan Rule in Taiwan and Japanese Language Education for Aborigines’ 日本の台湾支配と原住民の日本語教育. In Eisei Kurimoto 栗本英世 and Kumie Inose 井野瀬久美恵, eds., Colonial Experience: Approach from Anthropology and History 植民地経験―人類学と歴史学からのアプ ローチ Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin, pp. 326–345. Mio, Yuko 三尾裕子, ed. (2006) ‘ Recognition of Japan in Taiwan’ 〈特 集〉台湾における日本認識. Journal of Asian and African Studies アジア・アフリ カ言語文化研究, 71:41–203. Ortner, S.B. (1997) ‘Thick Resistance: Death and the Cultural Construction of Agency in Himalayan Mountaineering’. Representations, 59:135–162. ———. (2006) Anthropology and Social Theory: Culture, Power, and the Acting Subject. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Pilcher, Jane. (1994) ‘Mannheim’s Sociology of Generations: An Undervalued Legacy’. British Journal of Sociology, 45(3):481–495. Suenari, Michio 末成道男. (2011) ‘Japan, from Saisiyat’s Point of View: Case from Two Anti-Japanese Revolt Leaders in the Early Stages of Japan’s Rule’ サイシャ ットからみた日本―日本統治初期における二人の抗日事件リーダーを中心に. In Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition台

78  Naoki ISHIGAKI 湾における〈植民地〉経験―日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosya, pp. 215–257. Sung, Siu-huan 宋秀環. (2000) ‘Patriotic Youth Group Policy under Japan’s Rule and Indigenous Peoples of Taiwan: Cases Mainly from Ami’ 日本統治下の青年団政策 と台湾原住民―アミ族を中心として. In Katsumi Nakao 中生勝美, ed., Colonial Anthropology’s Perspectives 植民地人類学の展望. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 123–169. Tai, Kuo-hui 戴国煇, ed. (1981) Taiwan Musha Uprising: Research and Primary Material 台湾霧社蜂起事件―研究と資料. Tokyo: Shakaishisousha. Ueno, Hiroko 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds. (2011) Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾に おける〈植民地〉経験―日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosya. Yamaji, Katsuhiko 山路勝彦. (2004) Colonial Rule in Taiwan: Development of ‘Ownerless Barbarians’ Discourse 台湾の植民地統治―〈無主の野蛮人〉という言説の展 開. Tokyo: Nihon Tosho Center. Yamashita, Shinji 山下晋司 and Matori Yamamoto 山本真鳥, eds. (1997) Colonialism and Culture: Anthropological Perspective 植民地主義と文化―人類学のパースペク ティヴ. Tokyo: Shinyosha. Yan, Ai-jing 顏愛靜 and Guo-zhu Yang 楊國柱. (2004) Indigenous Land System and Economic Development 原住民土地制度與經濟發展. Banqiao: Daw Shiang Publishing. Yang, Shu-yuan 楊淑媛. (2005) ‘Imagining the State: An Ethnographic Study’. Ethnography, 6(4):487–516. ———. (2008) ‘Christianity, Identity, and the Construction of Moral Community among the Bunun of Taiwan’. Social Analysis, 52(3):51–74.

Part II

Living after the war

4 The ‘crossover generation’ Residents of Taiwan’s East coast under multi-layered foreign rule Kazuyuki NISHIMURA

Introduction Colonial rule is based on a rigid power relationship between ruler and subject. It is characterised by violence manifested in economic and cultural exploitation as well as oppressive changes in people’s lives. Further research on colonial rule must uncover the violence of colonial authority while also showing how people lived in its midst. Research on colonial modernity, mainly in the field of literature, has shown the immense power of colonial authority by exposing the deep ways that colonised societies are permeated by modernity. This inquiry presupposes the existence of a binary framework of ruler and subject; furthermore, the focus on colonial authority sometimes leads to the recognition of colonialism and modernity as one and the same entity, and thus overlooks how various colonial subjects faced modernity. In contrast, the African history researcher Frederick Cooper alludes to the ‘colonial situation’ proposed by anthropologist Georges Balandier, saying that, when thinking about colonialism, we should focus on its actual effects and influence on society (Cooper 2005: 46–54). Cooper insists on the importance of assuming the existence of a power relationship between ruler and subject and understanding the way the colonised coped with this relationship. Such an approach remains invaluable in terms of articulating anthropological investigation of locality with a historical perspective on colonialism. Additionally, after colonialism, the effects of colonial rule remain embedded not only in political and economic systems but also in cultural practices through people’s bodies. This extends also to the way people live in a post-colonial world. The anthropologist Arjun Appadurai refers to cricket in Indian society as the example of local appropriation of the ruler’s culture and defines decolonisation as a ‘dialogue’ with a country’s colonial past (Appadurai 1996: 89). In colonialism research, it is important to follow the process of this ‘dialogue’ between the colonial authority and the lives of the colonised in terms of how the colonised nation accepts, rejects, changes, and creates meaning around that which the coloniser has brought about. This chapter focuses on the case of Taiwan, which was ceded from the Qing Dynasty to Japan after the First Sino-Japanese War in 1895 and remained a colony of Japan until 1945 when Japan was defeated in the Asia-Pacific War.1 From then onwards, Taiwan became a part of the Republic of China under the rule of

82  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA the Kuomintang (KMT), which would assert dictatorial control until the 1980s. Both Imperial Japan and the KMT were foreign authorities from outside Taiwan. This chapter sheds light on Taiwanese people’s experience of being colonised by multi-layered foreign powers. There has been previous post-colonial research on Taiwan’s two colonial experiences by Liao and Wang (2006) and Morris (2015), among others. However, their research is historical, literary, and focused primarily on the lives and literary symbolism of those in the intellectual class. In contrast, this chapter focuses more broadly on Taiwanese people’s experiences under the two colonial powers. In Taiwan, the elderly who experienced colonial rule by Japan have been given special attention and described as having a ‘Japanese spirit’ (日本精神 Nipponseishin) or ‘Japanese soul’ (大和魂 Yamatodamashii). They were educated during the Japanese colonial period, have Japanese language proficiency, and have special feelings about colonial Taiwan or pre-war Japanese society. Also, because they did not receive sufficient education during post-war KMT rule, they have been described as having different values from younger generations. Further, the attitudes they show towards Japan include feelings of nostalgia for pre-war Taiwan, tinged with a certain ‘pro-Japan’ sentiment. As a result, their intimacy with Japan and the Japanese has drawn researchers’ attention when they discussed Taiwanese attitudes towards Japan, especially as these unique attitudes are expressed by people who lived through Japanese colonisation (see Huang 2015). On a related note, the preface to Chou Wan-yao’s A New Illustrated History of Taiwan (Japanese edition) describes an episode in which Chou was unable to accept an apology from a friend from Japan – Taiwan’s former coloniser – on behalf of her parents. At the same time, regarding the way her parents’ generation thinks of Japan, she explains, ‘My parent’s attitude towards Japan is extremely ambivalent. It is not as simple as “like” or “dislike” ’ (Chou 2007 [1997]: 4). The complicated feelings of Taiwanese people towards Japan – especially among those who experienced the colonial period – are related to the progress made by Taiwan after the war and to the complex ethnic makeup of Taiwanese society (Huang 2015). In 1945, Japanese colonial rule ended and Taiwan came under the rule of the KMT, who controlled the Republic of China. Afterwards, during a short, turbulent period from 1945 to 1949, Chinese Civil War brought unrest to mainland China. The People’s Republic of China was founded, and the KMT withdrew from mainland China at approximately the same time. Also, by 1946 most Japanese living in Taiwan had left, with many KMT officials moving to Taiwan almost as if to replace them. Furthermore, the KMT’s governance through martial law that continued from 1949 to 1987 was extremely oppressive to Taiwanese people. The decolonisation carried out by the KMT was an effort to remove all traces of Imperial Japan from Taiwanese society, but the KMT simultaneously pursued the Sinicisation of Taiwan based on their own ideals of rule – that is, their political aim to make Taiwan a part of the Republic of China. The Empire of Japan and the KMT, both as modern nation-states, ruled Taiwan: the former ruled it as an overseas territory, while the latter moved its government to Taiwan. They formed a modern, public sphere based on their administrative

The ‘crossover generation’  83 systems. This chapter focuses on the people who developed their life skills within this official sphere as created by these two foreign authorities. While, on the one hand, they were subjects to be ruled, on the other, they had agency with ruling power in certain circumstances. One goal here is to show through their stories how they confronted the unavoidable pressure exerted by different foreign authorities: they managed to maintain their lives within the administrative systems and developed strength to deal with authority. The other goal is to show the deeprooted effects of colonial power, through the investigation of multi-layered colonial experiences embedded in the bodies of Taiwanese people, especially those born from the late 1920s to the early 1930s. This chapter looks at the experience of multi-layered foreign authorities among members of the Han people and indigenous ’Amis ethnic groups (阿美族) living in Town C in eastern Taiwan. People with these experiences will be referred to as the ‘Crossover Generation’. Town C is located on the coast of eastern Taiwan. It is an area where agriculture, mainly rice production, and coastal fishing have been carried out since the Japanese colonial period. The town’s residents are a mix of Han and indigenous ’Amis people. Many of the Han people live in the central area, while ’Amis people communities are dotted along the coast. Since the time of Japanese rule, ’Amis people have predominantly engaged in agriculture, while the Han people have focused on commerce and fishing. In terms of day-to-day life in the town, the common language shared by members of both ethnic groups plays a major role. Until the 1970s, Japanese was the common language for residents, until it changed to Chinese. Furthermore, each of the two languages was official and tied to a particular colonial power. Also, the town centre, where administrative and police institutions were located, was established in the 1920s.

The ‘crossover generation’: HA and LB The Taiwanese people who went through adolescence in the second half of Japan’s occupation experienced major changes in the political system during their developmental years. Their adolescence overlapped with both the Asia-Pacific War and Japnaese colonisation, and they directly experienced the post-war effort led by the KMT to decolonise Taiwan. The reason they are referred to as the ‘Crossover Generation’ is that they lived through both Japanese and KMT rule. This chapter focuses primarily on the experiences of foreign rule by two men living in Town C, whom I will refer to as HA and LB. HA is ethnically ­Minnan Han, born in 1929 in northern Taiwan, moving to Town C with his family when as a child. He attended a primary school for Taiwanese in a six-year system (公学校 kōgakkō), an educational facility for Han and indigenous ’Amis children. The primary school system for Taiwanese in Town C was initially a four-year ­system, which later partially changed to six years. HA went on to a kōtōka (高等科), which was a two-year advanced course attached to kōgakkō. After finishing school, he worked for a short time at the town hall before changing to a job as junior officer at a police station, where he was working when Japanese rule came to

84  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA an end. After the war, he became a civil servant at the town hall and was involved in local administration for a considerable time. The other man, LB, is a member of the indigenous ’Amis ethnic group. He was born in 1928 and attended a primary school for Taiwanese in a four-year system in Community G in southern Town C. After finishing school, he worked as a live-in servant in a Japanese household. He later returned to his former school, which had changed to a six-year system, and completed the course. He went on to the same kōtōka as HA had attended. However, before finishing, he joined the navy as a volunteer and experienced the end of Japanese rule at that time. Thereafter, he studied at a teacher training facility created by the KMT and then taught for a considerable time at a primary school under KMT rule (國民小学 guominxiaoxue) in Community G. The two men were among the few in C Town who attended the kōtōka. They were strongly influenced by the kōminka (皇民化) of Taiwan, which was making imperial subjects of the people through cultural assimilation, and also took on jobs related to colonial rule (as a local civil servant and soldier, respectively). Furthermore, under KMT rule after the war, both subjects had to cope with changes resulting from the shift in political power. They built new lifestyles as their society now underwent Sinicisation, once again in civil service employment (as local administrator and schoolteacher, respectively). Both also received education closely tied to government power and had modern occupations created by these two foreign authorities in Taiwan.

Town C: contact zone with foreigners Town C was planned during the Japanese rule. In particular, since there are administrative and educational institutions in the town centre, the influence of foreign powers that governed Taiwan is clearly visible. It was a place for the Crossover Generation to come into contact with the governing power through the Japanese during Japanese rule and the waishengren (外省人 people who came to Taiwan after World War II with the KMT) during the KMT. Although their population was small, they were strongly tied to the governing power. Contacting Japanese people and the waishengren was equivalent to contacting the power behind them. Contact with Japanese A special administrative system was introduced in the mountainous region in eastern Taiwan, where many indigenous people lived during Japanese rule. Here, a special form of government focused on police agencies was implemented. The indigenous population was expected to serve as labour for the construction of roads and bridges in exchange for exemption from taxes. However, Taiwan’s eastern coastline is covered by narrow plains running north to south, already populated by the Han people since the Qing Dynasty. This meant that they had long exchange with indigenous people such as ’Amis and Puyuma. Unlike the mountainous areas, the eastern coastline was considered a general administrative district started in the early colonial period.

The ‘crossover generation’  85 Taxation was applied to the ’Amis people in Town C in 1906, meaning that – although an indigenous group – they were treated similarly to Han people in the area. However, ’Amis people were assigned labour on colonial development projects, as were the indigenous people of the mountainous regions. Thus, the effects of Japanese rule extended to the local level of each community and gradually weakened their autonomy. In 1921, administrative agencies moved to a newly established town centre where most Japanese lived. Indigenous ethnic groups made up approximtely 70% of the town’s residential population, while roughly 20% were Han and fewer than 10% were Japanese. However, in the central area, indigenous groups made up approximately 50%, Han people approximately 30%, and Japanese approximately 20% of the population. The town centre was a place where multiple ethnic groups lived in relatively close proximity. In other words, the homes of the Japanese colonisers were close to those of the Han and indigenous people being colonised. However, close contact between them only occurred in very limited situations. These limited points of contact for the Crossover Generation were primary schools for Taiwanese children and Japanese homes. Primary education was conducted separately during Japanese rule; educational institutions were divided between those for Japanese and those for Taiwanese residents. In Town C, Han and ’Amis children attended primary schools for Taiwanese residents and were taught in Japanese as the official (national) language (国語 kokugo). The history and geography of mainland Japan were imparted, and they were taught to be ‘good Japanese’ through moral training (修身 shūshin) based on the model of the Japanese governing side. In addition, most of the teachers were Japanese. When asked about school at the time, a Han man said that at first, he could not understand classes in Japanese at all, but by his third year, he was able to understand a lot. In this way, Taiwanese were ‘Japanised’ at school. Many of those who experienced primary school for Taiwanese spoke of reciting the Imperial Rescript on Education (教育勅語 kyōikuchokugo) and of stereotypes of Japanese people based on the teachers with whom they came into contact. Their actual experiences with Japanese people took place in the context of the relationship between teachers and young pupils. Also, some in Town C had experience as live-in servants in Japanese homes. At the time, children who had attended primary schools for Taiwanese sometimes lived and worked in Japanese households. They were called tōban (当番 live-in servants). Many of these children seem to have been ’Amis living in Town C, although there were also some cases of Japanese households employing Han children from the neighbourhood. Many of the children, who learned Japanese at primary schools for Taiwanese, performed light work, assisted with household chores, or helped with childcare. Those with tōban experience often felt they understood what Japanese people were like from seeing their lives firsthand. Also, the elderly ’Amis man explained that having lived and worked with Japanese people, who as colonisers wielded great power, combined with the Japanese language proficiency he gained there, his social status increased when he returned to his village.

86  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA Contact with Waishengren Japan was defeated in 1945, and Taiwan became a part of the Republic of China. KMT rule brought new residents to the central area of Town C where ’Amis, Han, and Japanese had lived during Japanese rule: waishengren who came from mainland China as if replacing the Japanese who had left. The term waishengren refers to those who came to Taiwan during the short period from 1945 to the 1950s, when the KMT withdrew to Taiwan. Most of the waishengren who arrived early on were officials and military personnel who oversaw KMT rule, and their families. They were despatched all over Taiwan to carry out its integration into the Republic of China, and Town C was no exception. Japan’s defeat did not lead to major disorder, but the shift from one colonial power to another brought about significant changes in the lives of Town C residents. Waishengren took over the positions previously held by Japanese, especially in official areas. At the same time, Taiwanese civil servants at the town hall continued their employment. The previously mentioned HA had been a lowranking civil servant during Japanese rule, and under the KMT, he was a civil servant at the town hall, dealing with family registries. To make up for insufficient staffing, waishengren civil servants were despatched to administrative and police agencies, and human resources developed under the Japanese administration were also practically used. Thus, those educated under Japanese rule established a foothold for themselves as useful personnel in the local administration of the Republic of China. However, many were unable to make such a smooth transition. After the war, it was hard for them to make use of the skills developed through their education under Japanese rule, the major obstacle being proficiency in the official language, which had changed from Japanese to Chinese. HA described his workplace as follows: ‘If someone our age spoke in Japanese, they got in trouble. . . . I didn’t understand it, Chinese.  .  .  . At first, I  didn’t understand, not at all’ (27 February 2013). The confusion experienced by Taiwanese residents as a result of the change in official language is captured in his statement that ‘they got in trouble’.2 In the case of Town C, for two or three years after Japan’s defeat, the Japanese language was permitted in official situations. However, it was banned when the KMT withdrew to Taiwan in 1949. HA recalled that when he spoke Japanese at work, his waishengren colleagues, many of whom had transferred from the military, gave him scathing looks. The change in colonial power was accompanied by a change in the language needed in official situations. When waishengren arrived in Town C along with the KMT, they were at first welcomed as brethren from the homeland. Residents of the town were glad to be free from the oppression of Imperial Japan. However, there was a gap caused by the lack of a common language between the waishengren and Taiwanese of the Crossover Generation that resulted in an inability to understand each other. From this, it is clear that language played an important role in contact with foreigners on the side of the colonial power. In particular, the existence of official languages determined by the governing power was widespread. One unified

The ‘crossover generation’  87 official language, in combination with power, strongly influences the lives of those ruled. The official language was introduced to Taiwanese residents through education. Furthermore, the official language also influenced the sphere of work they were employed in.

Japanese rule of the ‘crossover generation’: study and work During Japanese rule, some of the people in C Town worked and built their lives in the new occupations created under Japanese rule, such as the civil service, teaching, and the military. To have access to these new occupations, it was necessary to have received formal education. Furthermore, the work space was one where both the coloniser and the colonised, as well as staff from different ethnic groups, met face to face. Also, these new occupations were an extension of the educational experience. Modern education and a work environment closely related to colonial power are key features in this account. A School on the East coast of Taiwan In Taiwan, there had, already, since the Qing Dynasty, been private Chinese schools (書房 shufang) where Han children received traditional Chinese education based on Confucianism. However, this traditional education was only offered to the intellectual elite. Modern education, in which the content required by the state was systematically taught to the general public, was established during the Japanese colonial period. This created a public space rooted in colonial modernity, closely tied to spaces of study and work. The first school was established in Town C in 1904. Multiple schools were built in the town centre, generally as six-year schools in predominantly Han areas, and four-year schools in areas with largely ’Amis populations. Community M, adjacent to the town centre, developed later, and ’Amis and Han children attended a four-year school built there in 1905. In 1922, this school became S Primary School for Taiwanese, and in 1931 it changed to a six-year system. The town’s sole kōtōka was added to the school in 1939. S Kōtōka attracted children with top marks from the town’s primary schools for Taiwanese. Members of the Crossover Generation obtained their Japanised education at these two kinds of schools from the late 1930s.3 Education under Japanese rule and the significance of going to school Fieldwork materials and past anthropological research tell us that ’Amis, who made up a large portion of the residents of Town C, did not have a positive impression of school education. During Japanese rule ’Amis did not think it was positive for young people to leave their community to study and seek work opportunities. At the time, children were important members of the community and home in terms of labour. As a result, leaving the village to study and work was viewed as

88  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA lazy.4 At the same time, those who had experienced school education sometimes saw it in a positive light. LB recalled that his mother did not think well of his going to school, saying to him, ‘You will turn into a Japanese person.’ However, his elder brothers-in-law, who lived with them, strongly encouraged him to attend G Primary School for Taiwanese, which had changed from a four-year to a six-year system. He followed their advice and studied at G Primary School for Taiwanese, afterwards continuing to S Kōtōka. This shows how a positive attitude towards schooling developed, particularly among those who had actually obtained an education that way. Also, ZW, Minnan Han male, who attended an S Primary School for Taiwanese and went on to S Kōtōka, ended up dropping out after only two days. He explained that he did not have a strong desire to continue his studies but decided to do so anyway at the urging of his elder brother, who worked at the post office. However, his father did not think positively of his decision to continue studying, and he also needed to look after his younger siblings, so he dropped out. One may assume that his brother, who had attended a primary school for Taiwanese and obtained a job at the post office – in other words, who worked in the modern working environment created under Japanese rule – had ZW’s future in mind when he urged his younger brother to continue studying at an kōtōka. Thus, Taiwanese residents had various ways of facing the school system mediating colonial modernity and understanding the relevance of learning in an institution. However, one can see that those who had actually experienced modern education held a positive view of the modern work environment where this experience could be put to use. Study and work Residents of Town C who had received their education from the late 1930s to the 1940s and found employment in newly established working environments experienced confusing gaps in awareness compared with their parents’ generation in terms of values, as a result of being educated under Japanese rule. The period of their education overlapped perfectly with the kōminka intensely pursued after the Second Sino-Japanese War. This kōminka was, to put it bluntly, an oppressive effort by the colonisers to create ‘good Japanese people’. Young pupils were strongly influenced by kōminka both in school and after leaving school. HA described the situation at school, saying, ‘With the kōminka movement, we were forced to be like Japanese people, they told us so’ (27 February 2013). At school, Taiwanese residents saw an idealised Japan that was ‘forced’ upon them by the colonisers. Furthermore, schools used the official language of Japanese. LB had the following to say about using Japanese at school. My parents at home didn’t understand Japanese. They spoke an indigenous language. Sometimes at school I couldn’t think of what to say in Japanese right away. Indigenous languages weren’t allowed at school. So all the pupils always used Japanese. If a Japanese person was present, then we had to speak

The ‘crossover generation’  89 Japanese, even at home, but around my house, which was in the countryside, they spoke in the indigenous language. (28 February 2013) At school, he came into contact with the colonisers who asserted that the Empire of Japan was the ideal political entity. However, this idealised ‘Japan’, symbolised by the use of Japanese and the learning of moral training in the classroom – itself an oppressive mechanism to force a sense of conformity – faded into the background during day-to-day life in a setting of local community, relatively free from these mechanisms. Hereinafter, this section discusses kōtōka. After finishing primary schools for Taiwanese, most children in Town C went into their family’s line of work, such as agriculture. On rare occasions, they continued to a junior high school in the city. More often, however, those wishing to pursue their studies attended S Kōtōka, affiliated with S Primary School for Taiwanese for two more years. This course brought together the ‘brightest’ children from Han and ’Amis families. Kōtōka alumni found modern occupations created by the colonial powers. For example, faced with the intensifying war, Japanese teachers in primary schools for Taiwanese sometimes left to join the fighting and were temporarily replaced by kōtōka alumni. As fewer such positions became available, some became low-ranking civil servants at police or administrative agencies. HA became a low-ranking civil servant at an administrative agency at the recommendation of his Japanese teacher. However, since he had been an outstanding student and had even become captain of his class, he was not satisfied by the work. Though this was also a modern occupation, school teaching was the profession Taiwanese children were supposed to aspire to. It was thus normal at kōtōka for the school to introduce modern professions to the ‘brightest’ pupils as a suitable kind of work. Further, some pupils who already met the age requirement left school to join the military. LB had at first planned to become a teacher after finishing school. However, he dropped out and joined the navy as a volunteer.5 Explaining why, he said, ‘Everyone in Taiwan goes to the military. . . . It’s better to join early so you can improve your rank faster’ (28 Febrary 2013). The fact that pupils from kōtōka became civil servants, teachers, or soldiers shows that these modern occupations were opportunities to embody the colonial modernity obtained through school education. Those who studied at kōtōka entered society not only with Japanese conversational ability but also with the high level of Japanese literacy required in the public sphere under colonial rule, as well as mastery of the expected standards and discipline. Furthermore, evaluating his ’Amis classmates from his perspective as Minnan Han, HA explained that they would be candidates to become leaders in their communities after leaving school. kōtōka were a place where many boys and girls who would form the leadership of ’Amis communities came together. However, this potential for leadership was grounded in values formed under a colonial system brought about by kōminka.

90  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA This shows that under Japanese rule, modern education made it possible to walk the path of social advancement. Hsu Pei-hsien, a Taiwanese historian and specialist in education during the Japanese colonial period, draws a connection between primary education in local society and occupations. She points out that finishing a primary school for Taiwanese not only served as a gateway to higher level schooling but also made it possible to find work in the new occupations created under colonial rule. Furthermore, she recognises the kōtōka as a realistic option to provide higher value than primary schools for Taiwanese, since having attended a kōtōka was a qualification that made it easier to earn a living (Hsu 2015: 98–99).6 However, soon after this generation set foot in the new work environments created by Japanese colonial rule, Japan was defeated. Members of the Crossover Generation in Town C saw their parents and the elderly rejoice at liberation from Japan, and while they too were happy to see familiar elders become regional leaders, they were also concerned about their future after growing up and beginning their careers under Japanese rule. Since they had only just entered the workforce during imperial Japanese rule, they were confused about the totally different values, but now sought to build lives for themselves in the new society created by the KMT Republic of China after the war.

The crossover generation at work: the shift to KMT rule Having already placed themselves in the official realm created under Japanese colonial rule and begun their careers as adults, the Crossover Generation had to build new lives amidst the shift to a post-war governance system and Taiwan’s decolonisation from Japanese rule. They needed strength to face these major changes and move on with their lives. The greatest change was the previously mentioned shift in official languages. Change in official language After Japanese rule had terminated, Taiwan was incorporated into the Republic of China, led by the KMT in opposition to the Communist Party on mainland China, in a tense atmosphere. This meant that Taiwan was immediately pulled into another war-time system to confront mainland China, and the Republic of China quickly sought to make Taiwanese people a part of this system. This was also an effort to decolonise Taiwan and remove all traces of Japanese rule from Taiwanese society as rapidly as possible. In particular, the change in official language from Japanese to Chinese was urgently promoted. For example, the use of Japanese in newspapers and magazines was banned in October 1946 – approximately one year after Taiwan had come under China’s control in October 1945. The KMT strongly insisted that the shift in official languages was extremely important in the field of education, which directly connected to kōminka. Around Town C, many of the kōtōka alumni who had become teachers at primary schools for Taiwanese during Japanese rule remained in their positions under KMT rule.

The ‘crossover generation’  91 They produced new textbooks in August 1945, and for half a year, taught in Japanese. Many residents recall that the Head at their school would deliver instructions at morning assembly in the Minnan language, the ’Amis language, and Japanese. However, in 1946, standard government guidelines were issued across Taiwan, and Chinese textbooks were standardised. In addition, the use of Chinese was required in schools, and students were to be educated as ‘Chinese citizens’ (中華民族 Zhonghua minzu). Also, the KMT government abolished the Japanese imperial education system that separated the colonisers and the colonised, calling it discriminatory. This shift in education also had an anti-kōminka aspect in terms of removing harm caused by Japanese rule (遺毒 yidu). Only Chinese was used at school, with Minnan, Hakka, and indigenous languages being banned. The official Chinese language was given special status as the national language (國語 guoyu). In Town C, teachers who had received Japanese language education under Japanese rule (先生 sensei) had to learn the new, Chinese, language, in order to become teachers in the Republic of China (老師 laoshi) and keep their jobs. There was a lack of teachers in Taiwan during the early period of KMT rule, and as a result, by 1957 ten normal schools had been created. However, since there were very few qualified to enter, institutions for intensive teacher training, short-term teacher-training facilities (簡師 jianshi), were opened, and those who had attended kōtōka under Japanese rule were deemed qualified to enrol. The KMT used ‘Ex-Japanese’, who were considered harmful for having been educated under Japanese rule, to train educators to raise Taiwanese citizens as people of the Republic of China. Shift in colonial rule and the crossover generation’s decisions The shift in colonial rule from Japan to the KMT completely changed the official realm. Those who had entered the workforce after obtaining top marks in the Japanese education system in Town C were forced to make major occupational decisions. LB, who had joined the military before leaving the S Kōtōka during Japanese rule, returned to his home Village G after the war and decided to be a teacher. He entered the teacher-training institution and after graduating, became a primary school teacher in his home village. The others who studied with him were all indigenous people. Some of the teachers who had experienced study abroad in Japan and were proficient in Japanese used Japanese when teaching indigenous students. Chinese language classes started with phonetic symbols (注音符號 Zhuyin fuhao), learned through Japanese. LB graduated from the teacher-training institution, entering a new society where not Japanese but Chinese was required. He went from being a soldier in the Japanese military to being a teacher for the Republic of China. People who had built careers that in some ways symbolised the ideal of ‘Japan’ as constructed under Japanese colonial rule – people such as LB, who had achieved a high level of education in Town C and become a member of the Japanese military – actively found a way to live under the new colonial rule which sought to eliminate the ideal of ‘Japan’. One can imagine that

92  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA their efforts required strength to respond flexibly to the changes in multi-layered colonial authority. This strength may be attributed to the fact that the meaning of learning and the attitude to face it were embedded in the bodies of the generations that followed imperial Japanese colonial modernity. However, for kōtōka alumni who went straight from being pre-war sensei to laoshi without going through the post-war teacher training system, the Chinese language was a major obstacle. As the number of teacher training graduates gradually increased, some sensei who had developed an excellent command of Japanese during the Japanese administration failed to reach a sufficient level of Chinese proficiency after becoming laoshi and retired early, or at least found themselves at a disadvantage when it came to career advancement. The shift in colonial power changed their position from ‘best’ to ‘worst’. Like schools, administrative agencies were another space where there were striking changes in language. HA, having left S Kōtōka with top marks and becoming a local civil servant, chose to keep working in the same job when KMT rule began after the war. He actively tried to become proficient in the new official language, participating in job training classes imparted in Chinese and going to the home of a higher-ranking waishengren colleague after work to learn Chinese. However, he did not understand what was explained in the training classes in Chinese. Even with interpretation into his native Minnan language, it was still hard to understand. There was too great a difference between his native language used in everyday conversation and the Chinese used at work. Because of the difference, learning Chinese in post-war era was actually similar to learning Japanese in the pre-war era. He said he learned how to fill in administrative forms in Chinese by recalling his experience at his former job under Japanese rule using Japanese. This is how the Crossover Generation encountered difficulties  – particularly regarding language – as a result of living in the official realm created by two different foreign authorities, and how they had to find within themselves the strength to live through that situation.

From Kōminka to Sinicisation Chinese became the official language after the Asia-Pacific War, and the KMT’s ideal of ‘China’ permeated Taiwanese society. Referring to his fellow S Kōtōka alumni who supported part of that social structure as higher civil servants, HA expressed disagreement with the idea that everyone in the Crossover Generation – including himself – was unable to get by in Sinicising Taiwan, saying, ‘Not ­everyone educated in Japanese was unable to learn Chinese’ (27 Febrary 2013). In this statement he explains that, though they sometimes faced difficulties in a society shaped by the rule of multiple foreign powers, they applied the skills they had learned in colonial situations to improve their social positions. However, as members of the Crossover Generation, they had to struggle precisely because they were torn between the two different ideologies, imposed by the Empire of Japan and the KMT.

The ‘crossover generation’  93 HA was praised by many in Town C for being fluent in Chinese, but he explains, ‘I had to understand, like I was forced to’, a similar view to that he expressed regarding the Japanised education of his youth. Also, he became an assistant official, the highest-ranking position for civil servants in the town. However, HA at first rejected the job. He cited his lack of Chinese proficiency as a reason for the rejection, saying, ‘With my Chinese back then – even now my pronunciation is bad – I wasn’t very good at Chinese, so I said no to the job’; he thought his Chinese ability was not good enough to work as a deputy. When he finally accepted the job, Chinese indeed proved to be a major obstacle. Being appointed to an assistant official made me learn responsibility. I thought over as carefully as I could when writing reports and plans. I used a dictionary to write. I can’t use bopomofo. So I used a Japanese dictionary first, and then used a Chinese dictionary. (20 August 2014) Bopomofo, or Zhuyin fuhao, refers to the phonetic symbols used in the early stages of learning Chinese. They are needed to look up words in a dictionary. However, having been educated under Japanese rule, HA could not understand this phonetic notation, so he would first look up Chinese characters using the Japanese reading in a Japanese dictionary and then look them up in a Chinese dictionary. He said that it was an effort for him to learn Chinese after the war. The two layers of language were hard for him, as he could not learn Chinese, the new official language required for work, without using Japanese, the former official language. He also said that if Japanese rule had continued, he would not have advanced in his job as a civil servant; no matter how hard he worked, he never would have moved to a higher position. He is referring here to the rigid structural discrimination originating from Japanese rule that was firmly rooted in the work environment created by Japan, of which he was well aware. When the author considered him a member of a generation crossing over between two eras, he replied that living like that caused suffering and struggle. As for LB, who spoke of having the ‘Japanese spirit’ and joining the navy as a volunteer during the Japanese colonial period, he recalled the following about the long time he spent as a primary school teacher. I used my education under the Japanese rule as a reference and taught ‘Chinese Children.’ [Children] don’t know anything, so if you teach them they study things quickly. Sometimes I looked at Japanese education when teaching. Since the government changed, I went along with it in my teaching. I didn’t do anything transgressive. . . . [The children] learned about the mainland. I taught about the mainland. Now the teacher teaches about local stuff. We can’t learn anything about the mainland very well. (28 February 2013)

94  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA LB spent most of his career as a form master in the first years of primary school. Almost all of his pupils were indigenous. Although he had grown up trying to be ‘Japanese’, LB, in the post-war era, taught ’Amis children how to become ‘Chinese citizens’ as a teacher for the Republic of China. He was using his knowledge of an old dye (‘Japan’) to accommodate new colours (‘China’). The phrase ‘teach about local stuff’ in the last part of the interview refers to educational content in a social studies class which has been held since the democratisation of Taiwan. In the class, children visit LB as their community elder and learn about their village. In the democratisation of the late 1980s and in the establishment of a new social structure that treated Taiwan as its own unit, he felt that the general public started to be conscious of their hometowns and ethnic origins as important elements of their identities. What is significant in looking at the post-war way of life of members of the Crossover Generation in Town C is the way they dealt with and thought of the education and work they had to take upon themselves due to colonisation by two foreign powers. When LB spoke of the process of entering the institution for training teacher in order to become a post-war teacher, he said that he wanted to become a teacher because he loved learning. HA also mentioned that it was a matter of course for him to study during his school days (in the pre-war era) and to devote himself to a job after entering society (in the post-war era). From their narratives, it is clear that they were keenly aware of what the education system created by Japanese rule meant to them, as well as what that system would lead to in each of their lives. Since they could not resist the system, they were incorporated into the modernity brought by Japanese colonial rule.7 At the same time, they would put it to use as they lived under the KMT.

Conclusion In a colonised area, modernisation and colonisation are not the same thing, but they do not stand in opposition to each other, either. The Taiwanese history researcher Chou Wan-yao asserts, ‘It is not possible to understand the complexity and ambiguity of Taiwanese people’s feelings about Japanese occupation if you disregard the entangled and complex relationship between modernisation and colonisation in Taiwan’ (Chou  2007 [1997]: 123). As long as this ‘entangled and complex relationship’ is ignored, it is difficult to understand the colonial experience of Taiwanese people. In addition, when Taiwanese people talk about this experience, their thoughts on colonial rule by the KMT must also be understood. This is because the entanglement of modernity and colonialism continued with post-war colonialism after the Japanese administration. The Crossover Generation, when speaking amongst themselves, frequently describe their education during Japanese administration, through which they gained many skills, as being strict but good. They describe what they obtained through the education as ‘Japanese spirit’, a special feature of their generation. However, this word is also used with a reverse connotation. Elderly people who experienced Japanese rule recognised themselves as being unable to adjust to the

The ‘crossover generation’  95 post-war change in colonial authority, unable to earn money, and unskilled at acting flexibly in accordance with the situation. While both the Empire of Japan and the KMT introduced administrative systems based on European modernity, the terms for fictional identities, such as ‘Japanese’ and ‘Chinese’, were also used to incorporate peoples in Taiwan in administrative systems. However, these were fictional identities, never meant to be actually achieved. The Crossover Generation in Taiwan had to face the challenge of constructing their own identities between two opposing political spaces. This chapter showed the entanglement of modernity and colonialism brought about by different foreign authorities in Taiwan by focusing on how the Crossover Generation have dealt with these authorities. Once LB described his difficulty, saying with a laugh, ‘It was “for the Emperor” during Japanese rule, then “for China” during KMT rule. We had to go along with it, we had no choice’ (28 Febrary 2013). His calmly spoken words succinctly show how the Crossover Generation have managed to build their lives for themselves, while responding to the administrative demands made by different foreign authorities at different times. Each colonial authority expected loyalty from Taiwanese residents and created a fictional identity of equality. One can see from LB’s recollection of his career as a teacher, how their loyalty was situational. Interviewees used Japanese when talking about the period of Japanese rule. However, when talking about the period of KMT rule, they often used Chinese. Switching languages to speak about different eras is symbolic of how the Crossover Generation lived with multi-layered foreign authorities. Franz Fanon posits that to speak is to take on one culture and bear the weight of one civilisation. Explaining the power relationship between the coloniser and the subject, he concludes that colonial subjects are culturally situated by their ability to use the language of the foreign power that controls their country (Fanon 1998 [1951]: 39–41). The administrative systems of Japan and the KMT established the cultural superiority of the colonisers over the peoples of Taiwan. Furthermore, according to the cultural distance between the ruler and the colonial subject, an ethnic hierarchy, in which the indigenous peoples of Taiwan were situated at the bottom, was created by foreign authorities. The subjects’ closeness to the ideal identity created by the coloniser represented their loyalty to the foreign authority. In other words, the degree of skill in the official language needed for education and work was used as a measurement. The Crossover Generation, including HA, who were able to fluently use the official language of the coloniser were forced to live in accordance with the colonisers’ ideals. Faced with foreign authorities that enforced identities through either kōminka or Sinicisation, they developed their ways of life in accommodation to administrative demands. Such a process may seem at first glance to resemble that of Foucault’s ‘docile bodies’ (1977 [1975]), created and manipulated by the two foreign authorities. However, they appropriated what the authorities offered them and sublimated it into the strength to live.8 In reassessing the term ‘post-colonial’, Stuart Hall states that the relationship between colonists and the colonised must

96  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA be reread as a form of ‘transculturation,’ or cultural translation (Hall  2002 [1996]: 121–122). To be more precise, decolonisation is a continuing dialogue with the colonial past by people who live in the land once colonised. This transculturation will continue in a post-colonial context.9 According to this perspective, it is too one-sided to regard the KMT administration in the post-war era as standing in opposition to the Japanese administration. Rather than substantialising the difference of the two administrations, historians and anthropologists should pay attention to Taiwanese colonial experiences of multi-layered foreign authorities as one straight line, situating in their lives a series of colonial events occurring both in both pre-war era and in post-war eras.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank all those who cooperated with me in fieldwork in the survey area. The main materials used in this chapter were generally collected during fieldwork conducted in September 2012, February 2013, and August 2014. This research was supported by the Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Project No.22251012, Organiser: Mio Yuko. This chapter is a rewrite of ‘The Crossover Generation: Residents of Taiwan’s East Coast under Foreign Rule’ (重層する外来政権と台湾東海岸における「跨る世代」), published in the Japanese Journal of Cultural Anthropology (文化人類学) 81(2):284–301(2016). I would also like to express my gratitude to the Japanese Society for Cultural Anthropology for their approval.

Notes 1 Japan lost the Pacific War, and Taiwan came under the control of the Republic of China. As a result, the relationship between Taiwan and Japan became estranged. In addition, Japan and the Republic of China severed diplomatic relations in 1972. The post-colonial situation of Taiwan and Japan is very different from that of the former colonial powers of the West and their colonies. 2 An ’Amis man, who had attended a mid-level school in the centre of the region, was a civil servant in the town hall under Japanese rule. His advanced educational background made him stand out among indigenous people at the time. Still, he was unable to adjust to social changes that accompanied the shift in government power and left his job to return to his hometown and farming. 3 From 1941 onwards, all primary schools were renamed kokumingakkō (国民学校). In this regard, He I-lin, a Taiwanese historian, points out that ‘the school education for Japanese, Han people and indigenous peoples, which had been provided respectively, was on the surface integrated, and the education of the Taiwanese people was carried out in accordance with Japanese imperial thought, and education became an important part of kōminka efforts’ (He 1986: 50). 4 Suenari Michio, an anthropologist who conducted a field survey of ’Amis society in the 1970s, described young ’Amis men who left the village or did not go into agriculture as being considered ‘lazy’ during Japanese rule. Suenari also said, ‘There were not a few new-tempered people among them. They served as police officers after serving as

The ‘crossover generation’  97 subordinates at police stations and as police assistants. Some of them became teachers after acting as substitute teachers’ (Suenari 1983: 29–30). 5 The volunteer system began in the Army in 1942 and the Navy in 1943. An applicant was qualified as a man 17 years of age or older having completed six years of schooling. Conscription began in 1944. 6 After World War I, Japan controlled the Southsea Islands (南洋群島 Nan’yō-Guntō). The inhabitants were considered as islanders (島民 tōmin) outside of Japan’s control. In Palau, as anthropologist Mita Maki (2013) has shown, Japan was socially and economically in control of education, and for Palauans, it was only necessary to fulfil the Japanese needs. In contrast, modern school education in pre-war Taiwan had a major effect on people’s lives and was arguably recognised as instrumental in the creation of the modern work environment. 7 The anthropologist Matsuzawa Kazuko, who examined the use of Japanese among the indigenous Paiwan in the south-eastern Taiwan, pointed out that pre-war imperialisation education deeply embedded in the people of Paiwan doggedly strengthened ethnic discrimination. It refers to the interest in higher education and the rapid spread of compulsory education. Matsuzawa states, ‘Maybe it was education that triggered the awakening of the indigenous people as citizens of modern society’ (Matsuzawa 1999: 343). 8 Regarding Maragori, known as the white ‘servant tribe’ in Kenya, anthropologist Matsuda Motoji explains that, while, at the same time, being swept away by the irresistible rotation of the gears of history, they picked up something useful to the world and tried to transform the forced life into something meaningful to themselves (Matsuda 1999: 216). 9 Morris (2015) focuses on the experience of Japanese rule as it was ‘left behind’ and selected within Taiwanese society. This book contains papers that discuss the connection between the perception of ‘Japan left behind’ among the people of Taiwan and the ‘China’ presented by the KMT government from 1945 to the 1980s. The existence of Taiwanese nationalism is significant. Although this chapter does not primarily address this issue, it may be argued that Taiwan’s uniqueness is strongly supported by the ­Taiwanese people and that their perception of Japanese and KMT rule is a matter of Hall’s ‘transculturation’.

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98  Kazuyuki NISHIMURA He, I-lin 何義麟. (1986) ‘School Education during the Period of Imperialization’ 皇民化 期間之学校教育. The Taiwan Folkways 臺灣風物, 36(4):47–88． Hsu, Pei-hsien 許佩賢. (2015) ‘Social-historical Significance of ‘Kōgakkō’ Graduates’ 公學校畢業生的社會史意義. In Pei-hsien Hsu, Mirror Image of Modern Education in Colonial Taiwan 殖民地台灣近代教育的鏡像―1930年代台灣的教育與社會. New Taipei City: Acropolis, pp. 75–104. Huang, Chih-huei. (2015) ‘Ethnic Diversity, Two-Layered Colonization and Complex Modern Taiwanese Attitudes Toward Japan’. In Andrew D. Morris, ed., Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and Its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury, pp. 133–153. doi.10.5040/9781474220026.ch-007 Liao, Ping-hui and David Der-wei Wang, eds. (2006) Taiwan Japanese Colonial Rule, 1895–1945. New York: Colombia University Press. doi.10.7312/liao13798 Matsuda, Motoji 松田素二. (1999) ‘The British Empire Viewed from a Mountain Village in West Kenya: When Personal History Intersects with World History’ 西ケニア 山村からみた大英帝国―個人史が世界史と交錯するとき. In Eisei Kurimoto 栗本 英世 and Kumie Inose 井野瀬久美恵, eds., Colonial Experience: an Approach from Anthropology and History 植民地経験―人類学と歴史学からのアプローチ. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin, pp. 197–220. Matsuzawa, Kazuko 松沢員子. (1999) ‘Japanese Occupation in Taiwan and Japanese Language Education for the Taiwan Indigenous People: an Acceptance of Katakana in the Paiwan Society’ 日本の台湾支配と原住民の日本語教育―パイワン社会における カタカナの受容. In Eisei Kurimoto 栗本英世 and Kumie Inose 井野瀬久美恵, eds., Colonial Experience: an Approach from Anthropology and History 植民地経験―人類 学と歴史学からのアプローチ. Kyoto: Jimbun Shoin, pp. 326–345. Mita, Maki 三田牧. (2013) ‘The Curse of Gaze: On the ‘Tomin’ (Islanders) of Palau during the Japanese Rule’ まなざしの呪縛―日本統治時代パラオにおける「島民」をめ ぐって. In Masakazu Tanaka 田中雅一 and Naoji Okuyama 奥山直司, eds., Humanities on Contact Zone vol.4 Postcolonial コンタクトゾーンの人文学 4. Postcolonial/ ポストコロニアル. Kyoto: Koyo Shobo Corporation, pp. 1–29. Morris, Andrew D., ed. (2015) Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and Its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury. doi.10.5040/9781474220026 Suenari, Michio 末成道男. (1983) Social Organization and Its Change of ’Amis in Taiwan: From Virilocal Marriage to Uxorilocal Marriage 台湾アミ族の社会組織と変 化―ムコ入り婚からヨメ入り婚へ. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press.

5 Christian nursing care for the Japanese-speaking elderly in Taiwan Analysis of the official newsletters of Gyokulansou Yohei FUJINO Introduction In Taipei, there is a Christian daycare centre for the elderly named ‘Gyokulansou (玉蘭荘)’,1 where most members, if not all, speak Japanese. Approximately 40 to 50 elderly gather in this place and take part in a number of different activities every Monday and Friday. On its official website, the centre upholds the teachings of God, promoting ‘care for elderly members through the love of the Spirit of Jesus Christ’ and ‘kindness to each other through various activities (such as worship, gymnastics, and karaoke) and volunteer social work’, so they may ‘live their lives to the full’ and ‘have a sense of dignity as members of society’.2 Most of the staff are Christians, and all activities start with a service held by pastors or church elders. The afore-mentioned categories are: Japanese-speaking Taiwanese (日本語族) and Japanese wives (日本人妻). The first category, Japanese-speaking Taiwanese, refers to those born and raised during the Japanese colonial era. As their first language is Japanese, they cannot communicate effectively without mixing Japanese and Taiwanese or Hakka Chinese. Most of them are not proficient in written Chinese either, since they did not learn Chinese at school. As a result, their Japanese literacy is higher than that of their Chinese. Due to their lack of Taiwanese or Chinese language proficiency, many were isolated in Taiwanese society after World War II, as, under the Koumintang, speaking Japanese was, for a long time, banned in the public space. A background these Japanese-speaking Taiwanese share is that many were brought up in elite benshengren3 families that maintained a close relationship with the Government-General of Taiwan (台湾総督府), thereby enjoying a privileged childhood. After World War II, however, the Japanese part of their identities was suppressed by the new regime. They were forced to live an uncomfortable and inconvenient life when the Japanese language was prohibited by the government. They lost not only the opportunity to use their first language in public but also their social status achieved through their close relationships with the Japanese colonial authority.

100  Yohei FUJINO The second category, Japanese wives, refers to women born in Japan, who moved to Taiwan before and after World War II because they married benshengren or waishengren.4 For various reasons, some decided to settle in Taiwan after the Japanese rule. This group of members may be divided into three sub-categories: the first group is composed of those married to benshengren in Taiwan before World War II who remained there. The second group refers to those married to benshengren males in Japan before World War II who moved to Taiwan after the war. The third group consists of those married to waishengren or benshengren males on mainland China before World War II who emigrated to Taiwan with the Kuomintang after World War II. Gyokulansou Dayori as a social space To investigate how Gyokulansou functions as a social space where Japanesespeaking Taiwanese and Japanese wives receive care in a Japanese language environment based on Christian teachings and ethos, this study analyses two important historical materials: (1) Gyokulan (『玉蘭』), a 12-volume newsletter published by the parent organisation of Gyokulansou between February 1988 and May 1992 highlighting Seisho to Inori no Kai (「聖書と祈りの会」, the Bible and Prayer Group, hereafter Inorinokai), and (2) Gyokulansou Dayori (『玉蘭荘だより』), a newsletter published by Gyokulansou since August 1992.5 There is a significant article written by a Japanese-speaking Taiwanese member (Gyokulansou Dayori: 101), making three key points: first, the Japanesespeaking Taiwanese born and raised during the Japanese colonial era changed their nationality from Japanese to Chinese under the new government. Second, although they are sometimes criticised for writing in Japanese despite their Chinese nationality, they are not at fault, but rather, the Qing Dynasty is responsible, as it ceded Taiwan to Japan. Third, it is natural for them to use Japanese because they spent their childhood and youth in a Japanese language environment. After stating that this information is merely a personal opinion, the author closes the article with a tanka, Japanese-style poetry, written by another member of Gyokulansou. Here is the original tanka written in Japanese with English translation: 他国語となりし日本語八十の我　尚続けおり北京語知らず （Takokugo to narishi Nihongo yaso no ware, nao tsuzukeori Pekingo shirazu) Japanese became a foreign language in my youth. Although I am now 80, I still do not know Chinese. 新しき世紀に我の遺すもの　子の読めぬ字で詠みし短歌集 (Atarashiki seiki ni ware no nokosu mono, ko no yomenu ji de yomishi tankashu） The things I left in the new century are poems written in a language that my children do not understand.

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  101 These tanka express the sadness of a generation dismissed in history, and the strong emotions shared among the Japanese-speaking Taiwanese. The following extract from Gyokulansou Dayori (96) expresses similar strong feelings: Chinese classics were banned during the Second Sino–Japanese War, but when WWII ended, the education of the Chinese classics was entirely put into effect. Therefore, it is no wonder that we, who lived through two eras, cannot write Chinese as native speakers. Except for taking part in Gyokulansou activities, most members rarely have the chance to speak Japanese. The Gyokulansou Dayori newsletter is arguably the only media providing a platform for them to read, write, and exchange news in the Japanese language. Therefore, the Gyokulansou Dayori may be considered a rare and highly valuable space for those who lack Chinese language proficiency and have to rely on using written Japanese to express their feelings. This example suggests that Gyokulansou Dayori plays a significant role in the daily life of Gyokulansou members. In the following, the author examines how members have made use of this newsletter to create a social space characterised by Christian practices, and how such social space has helped bridge the seemingly conflicting Japanese and Taiwanese identity embraced by these members. In other words, the author uses these newsletters as the historical anthropological ethnography of Gyokulansou analysing the way in which this space facilitates the unity and harmonisation of different elements, namely Japan, Taiwan, Christianity, and other factors, shared by members in Gyokulansou. There are a few previous studies on the Japanese language space in Taiwan (Igarashi and Mio ed. 2006; Ueno and Mio ed. 2011; Terada 2009). Some of them also use Gyokulansou as a case study (see Zhāng 2011 and, Sato 2013). However, this study differs from the former, in that it aims to focus on the Christian elements in such Japanese language space. In brief, this study argues that Christian practices at Gyokulansou, carried out in the Japanese language and based on the universal values of Christianity, meet the demands of the Japanese-speaking Taiwanese and Japanese wives, who wish to use the Japanese language and seek nostalgia associated with the Japanese era, as well as the meaning of life in their later stages.

History of Gyokulansou based on its official newsletter The first missionary in Taiwan was sent by the Presbyterian Church in 1865.6 Christianity started to flourish in the large territory ruled by the Qing Dynasty after the signing of the Treaty of Tianjin, as a result of the Second Opium War in 1858. The Presbyterian Church puts strong emphasis on developing social enterprises, such as education, medicine, and publishing. It also actively supported democratisation in Taiwan after World War II, especially after the Republic of China (ROC) lost China’s representation in the 1970s. Nowadays, it still cooperates with some groups advocating Taiwanese independence. In particular, it

102  Yohei FUJINO sympathises with the socially vulnerable, such as the indigenous or homeless, and attaches great importance to the preservation and promotion of local languages such as Taiwanese and Hakka. In fact, these positions taken by the Presbyterian Church in Taiwan fit the principle of Gyokulansou, which is to provide a social space to the Japanese language minority in contemporary Taiwan. The Protestant Church in Taiwan may be divided into two categories: (1) the Chinese church, which uses Chinese as its official language and mostly serves waishengren, and (2) the Taiwanese church, which uses Taiwanese language and other local languages with members mostly from the local Taiwanese community or benshengren (Fujino 2013). Following this classification, the Presbyterian Church in Taiwan may be regarded as a Taiwanese church, since most of its members are benshengren, and this church has the longest history in the Protestant movement in Taiwan. The Presbyterian Church in Taiwan has many pastors who learned Japanese before World War II and can still speak it. The parent organisation of Gyokulansou is Inorinokai, a Christian prayer group established on 6 October  1971. The first meeting was held by 12 members at the Taipei Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA). In the first year, the group organised two meetings a week, with an average attendance of 50 members (Gyokulan 1,4). Inorinokai was established by Ms A,7 a medical missionary from the Japan Overseas Christian Medical Cooperative Service (JOCS) NGO. She visited Taiwan in 1961 for the first time and worked with mentally challenged children at Losheng Hansen’s disease Sanatorium (樂生療養院) from 1979 to 1985. She then started to work full-time for Inorinokai from 1985 (AG15th eds. 2004: 15–17). Established in 1960, JOCS is a pioneering Christian NGO in Japan, whose origin may be traced to its medical activities in China started in 1938, when the Japanese army invaded China. At that time, some Japanese ministers were concerned about the suffering of Chinese people and called for humanitarian aid. Several doctors and nurses responded to their call for help and went to the continent to offer medical services.8 Nowadays, memberships of Gyokulansou mainly consist of (1) Japanese wives married to benshengren husbands, or married to waishengren husbands who escaped from mainland China, and (2) elderly benshengren, raised and educated during the Japanese Era, who feel more comfortable reading, writing, and singing in Japanese. The objective of the Christian mission of Gyokulansou is ‘to offer solace to Japanese fellow countrymen from a humanitarian perspective and to save their souls through Christianity. Offering services in the Japanese language is an important way to achieve this goal’ (Gyokulan 1). A Japanese wife who attended Inorinokai recalled that she had heard sermons translated from Chinese to Japanese in the past. However, she is still impressed by sermons delivered completely in Japanese. The first anniversary celebration meeting was held on 19 October 1979, with 79 participants. The last meeting in Taipei YMCA was held on 16 May 1980. After this meeting, Inorinokai moved to Taipei Eastgate Church (台灣基督長老教會台 北東門教會). A pastor from this church, who was trained as a Zero fighter pilot in

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  103 the Japanese era, helped with the relocation. He continued to serve as a preacher at both Gyokulansou and Inorinokai. After the relocation, meetings were held as usual on the first and third Thursday. Leisure activities such as cooking Chinese food and Bible classes were held regularly. On 12 April 1981, Inorinokai performed its first baptism for six members, including Japanese wives, at the Taipei Eastgate Church. The organisation committee consisted of 12 members as of 28 March 1985. Inorinokai employed the medical missionary Ms A as a full-time teacher.9 The first newsletter of Seisho to Inori no Kai Gyokulan was published on 10 February 1988 (Gyokulan 1,3).10 The newsletter was named Gyokulansou, which later became the official name of the organisation. Incidentally, Gyokulan is a tiny white flower (Magnolia heptapeta) with a sweet, pungent smell. Many people use it to make their cars smell fragrant and women spray it on their hair. Vendors sell Gyokulan at the roadside or in temples throughout Taiwan. Gyokulansou Dayori explains that the Gyokulan flower was chosen as the name of the centre because ‘white flower represents the wish of elderly people to spend the rest of their lives in brightness and purity. Also, the petals symbolise unity and harmony among members, and the sweet smell stands for everyone’s love for the elderly’ (Gyokulansou Dayori 61). Before inauguration The origin of Inorinokai’s elderly care service may be traced to March 1989, when members began to visit a member (a Japanese wife) obliged to live alone after suffering a stroke. Her son consulted the medical missionary, who then started to send members to visit her home and provide care services for her and another Japanese wife. This was the first volunteer activity for the Japanese-speaking elderly by Inorinokai (Zhang 2009: 13–14). Subsequently, those involved in this volunteer activity proposed the establishment of a ‘daycare centre’ in Taipei, which later came to be known as Gyokulansou (Gyokulan 5). Several members visited Japan, where the welfare service was more advanced than Taiwan at that time, to learn more about care for the elderly and receive training, from 10 June to 6 July in the same year. Founding The Gyokulansou inauguration party was held on 1 September 1989 at Taipei Anho Presbyterian Church (台灣基督長老教會安和教會). Sixty-one people participated in the event. In the early stage of the day care centre, a membership fee of NT100 per day was charged to cover operations. Activities included 20 minutes of simple worship, hobby activities, lunch, teatime, and so on (Gyokulan 6). After the two-year rental contract of the facility expired, Gyokulansou moved to a flat in Hsinsheng S Rd. (新生南路) with a monthly rent of NT38,000.

104  Yohei FUJINO Development Ms A, the founder of Inorinokai, managed the Gyokulansou by herself in the early stages. When her term of service expired in 1992, Gyokulansou was then managed by a board of directors. The first board of directors was elected in January 1992 (AG15th eds. 2004: 18–19; AG25th eds. 2014: 150). The Department of Social Welfare of the Taipei City Government (臺北市政 府社會局) accepted Gyokulansou’s application to found a corporation, namely The Centre of Welfare for the Elderly in Taipei (台北市松年福祉会). The name Gyokulansou subsequently became well known in Taiwanese society (Gyokulansou Dayori 10). To become a member of Gyokulansou, one is required to ‘agree with, observe, and provide suggestions to the activities organized by the centre’, and ‘have resided in Taipei City for more than 20 years’. The admission fee was NT500, and the annual membership fee was NT1,000 (Gyokulansou Dayori 17,85). The centre’s anthem was composed in 1995 (Gyokulansou Dayori 33). This period laid a solid foundation for the future development of Gyokulansou. When Ms B’s (second chief secretary of Gyokulansou) term of service expired in 1992, she was succeeded by Mr D., a former primary school teacher, fond of writing (Gyokulansou Dayori 113). As he frequently wrote in Japanese, the number of articles published in Gyokulansou Dayori at that time is much higher compared to other periods. Stability Gyokulansou was established in Anho Church and moved to a flat in Xinsheng S Rd. It was relocated to Tunhua S Rd (敦化南路) in February 1993. Renting an apartment was not an ideal way to maintain a stable operation and development of Gyokulansou, given the risk that the owner might refuse to renew their rental contract, and they would have to look for new premises. So, Gyokulansou decided to buy its own property and started to raise funds in June 1992. After four years, Gyokulansou finally bought an apartment on the fourth floor of a 12-storey building on Hsini Rd (信義路) (Gyokulansou Dayori 85) and moved in on 17 October. Their first activity in the new facility was held on the 21st and a ‘thank you for your kind donation’ service on 3 November. The total cost of relocation (including the new property, equipment, and moving cost) was NT16,000,000 (Gyokulansou Dayori 46).11 After purchasing its own property and settling down, a new movement began in Gyokulansou. The organisation sought a new orientation by transforming from a ‘Japanese-only community’ to one that welcomed people of different backgrounds. One of the remarkable changes was Gyokulansou starting to use new multilingual media. For example, Gyokulansou Dayori began to include ­Chinese translation from 10 April  1997 and published its first Chinese edition from No. 75 on 15 May 2001 (Gyokulansou Dayori 76); an official homepage was also created in 2002. For a period of time, Gyokulansou did not feel the need to use Chinese language, as almost all members were Japanese speakers. However, with

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  105 the gradual decline of benshengren members understanding the Japanese language, the organisation realised the need to also include the Chinese language for the families of their members and other Chinese-speaking supporters. In addition, Gyokulansou began to have more interactions with non-members. For instance, the first ‘meeting for families’ was held on 1 November 2003, and the first ‘meeting for friends’ on 21 May 2005 (Gyokulansou Dayori 100). At that time, there was a hot debate at Gyokulansou as to whether the Taiwanese language should also be used in activities or whether only the Japanese language should be allowed, as in the past. If Gyokulansou continued to adhere to the original purpose of the organisation, namely, to care for the elderly with Japanese backgrounds, it would face the difficulty of maintaining this policy, given the decrease in the number of Japanese wives and Japanese-speaking Taiwanese. Gyokulansou wavered between ‘using only Japanese’ and ‘using other languages, in order to provide care to a wider range of people’. In fact, this was the time when Taiwan underwent democratisation. Taiwan society became more tolerant of the use of languages other than Chinese. However, as an organisation that aimed to serve Japanese-speaking members and, at the same time, sought to go beyond this ‘ethnic limitation’ and open itself to the general public, Gyokulansou found itself placed in a new situation where it had to interact with not only Japanese speakers but also their families and other social groups.

Christianity and visiting volunteers at Gyokulansou Zhang Wenjuan, a scholar who also studied Gyokulansou, suggests that ‘it was clear that the purpose of establishing Gyokulansou was not to promote Christianity. She argues, instead, that it was to promote the spiritual care of elderly Japanese by promoting a Japanese-speaking environment’ and that the aim of Gyokulansou has nothing to do with Christianity (zhang 2011). However, contrary to her argument, many members actually regard Gyokulansou as a church. Believers of a religion often act out of altruism and contribute to society based on religious ethics, and such actions may have nothing to do with whether they have any intention to recruit new members for the religion (Kasai and Itai 2013). In particular, a chief secretary stated when she was appointed, I would do my best to cooperate with everyone and pray to God every day that Gyokulansou would become a place of love and healing for everyone that needs this space, and entrust themselves to God. Also, please pray together with our Gyokulansou, for God’s protection and blessing would be welcomed by the minorities, the poor and the weak in our society. (Gyokulansou Dayori 71) In the following, the author argues that the practices at Gyokulansou should be viewed as a combination of both caring and religion, instead of a dichotomic stance (i.e. caring vs religion), as suggested in previous studies.

106  Yohei FUJINO A Christian care centre for the elderly Gyokulansou gives high priority to volunteer activities. Small groups of two to three volunteers visit hospitals, nursing homes, or members’ houses on Wednesday afternoons. They spend time listening to the elderly, paying ‘full attention to p­ rivacy protection’, and sing traditional hymns and old songs with them (Gyokulansou Dayori 70). Similar to the Japanese wives, many Japanese-speaking Taiwanese cannot express their feelings in other languages and struggle considerably when trying to communicate with other Taiwanese people. These activities – singing, talking, and praying in Japanese – have significant effects on their wellbeing. There is also an article that introduces the activities of the visiting volunteers in detail and featuring a physically handicapped Japanese wife. While she spent her time at Gyokulansou on Mondays and Fridays, she was alone at home on the other days because her family were not at home from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. When volunteers learned of her situation, they decided to visit her home every week. During the home visit, they first sang a hymn, followed by a prayer. They also read and studied the Bible together and sang a closing hymn. The volunteer said that they started the home visit because they wanted to share God’s grace with her through studying the Bible and chatting with her, and comforting each other, even if it was only once a week (Gyokulansou Dayori 38). From this example, we can see that Gyokulansou not only provides care to elderly members through the use of the Japanese language but also takes care of religious and spiritual wellbeing. A further Gyokulansou Dayori article describes a workshop organised for visiting volunteers at Gyokulansou (Gyokulansou Dayori 40). A volunteer said she learned how to pray after attending the workshop. Another female volunteer believed that God will always answer our prayers, and therefore asking the elderly members to pray with them during home visits is a way of letting their voices be heard by God. In other words, volunteering is not for her own sake but for the happiness of others. We can see from this example that visiting volunteers also embrace altruistic values (Inaba 2011). According to another article, a workshop for Gyokulansou volunteer visiting was carried out from 10 a.m. every Wednesday (Gyokulansou Dayori 45). After prayer, they watched a film about nursing to learn more about how to take care of the elderly. Starting from 11:30 a.m., volunteers shared the experiences from the previous week with each other. Lunchtime conversations began at noon. Volunteer activities of that day started after lunch, which usually lasted until about 6 p.m. There is an interesting episode in one article. A volunteer visited an infirm Buddhist female facing certain troubles in her life. The volunteer told the member: ‘pray for recovery from sickness or think about the god you believe in, and I will pray to my God.’ Gyokulansou was a Christian centre, but not all members were Christian. As the primary goal of the centre was to provide care in a Japanese language setting, non-Christians were also welcome to join. However, there is still a strong Christian presence in the centre because the care provided at Gyokulansou was based on the altruism of Christianity.

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  107 In the Christian context, providing care to people in need has higher priority than religious identity. Gyokulansou had organised such workshops and meetings for visiting volunteers 130 times by the time this article was published in 1996, and the organisation particularly recognised the importance of such activities. Reports published in July and August in the same year estimated that 59 volunteers visited 16 homes over 33 times, with a total of 43 hours and 25 minutes. The achievements of the volunteers are impressive, considering the fact that managing such a large-scale volunteer enterprise was not easy for a small organisation such as Gyokulansou. The elderly members able to attend Gyokulansou’s meetings regularly were those in comparatively good health. Yet, some members who suffered from illness or lived relatively far from the centre found it difficult to attend in person. For the latter, from the time they became unable to go to the centre to their decease due to illness or old age, these home visits helped maintain their wellbeing. In particular, through these activities, the elderly members who were left behind in the history of post-war Taiwan could seek meaning in the latter stages of their life. In fact, Gyokulansou even arranges funerals for those who do not adhere to any religious denomination. Funeral of Japanese wives as the last care The issues of death and funerals are issues that, given their age, the elderly members at Gyokulansou have to deal with. As for the Japanese-speaking Taiwanese, their funerals may be arranged with the help of local communities, such as Daoist or Buddhist groups or the churches to which they belong. However, not all Japanese wives had such options as they had little or no relationship with the local communities. Therefore, their funerals were sometimes held at Gyokulansou. The first funeral of a Japanese wife at Gyokulansou was held on 5 August 2002 (Gyokulansou Dayori 84). The funeral was officiated by a church elder, with a Japanese pastor holding a funeral service and more than 50 people attending. The son of the deceased Japanese wife said, My mother did not have many friends after coming to Taiwan because she was quiet and could not speak Chinese well. Fortunately, after joining Gyokulansou, she made many lovely friends. If there had not been Gyokulansou, she would have remained lonely in her last days. We see from this example that, in Gyokulansou, Christianity contributes to ‘the last care’ of elderly members in the form of funerals. Gyokulansou is a space that provides members with significant meaning in life. Especially for Japanese wives separated from families in Japan who had few friends in postwar Taiwan, the centre has offered them comfort and solace when facing drastic social changes that could not be resisted by the power of the individual.

108  Yohei FUJINO

Gyokulansou as a social space in Taiwan In Gyokulansou, birthday parties were held for members once a month. A staff member took photos of the birthday person, who then made a simple speech. Here is an excerpt from such a speech: I still fit the Japanese custom. For example, I do not want to listen to Chinese or Taiwanese songs. I feel that Gyokulansou has a Japanese atmosphere. When I come here, I feel like I am in Japan, so I feel so good after coming here. (Gyokulansou Dayori 76) Although Gyokulansou is located in Taiwan, members feel a Japanese atmosphere and nostalgia there. The elderly cannot find any other space that offers a similar atmosphere. The members enjoyed a ‘Japanese social space’ which actually never existed in Japan; it is a local creation of Japanese space in Taiwan by Gyokulansou. Gyokulansou shows a combination of Japanese and Taiwanese traditions. For example, both haiku (俳句 Japanese poetry）and shichigonzekku (七言絶句 Chinese poetry）were included in Gyokulansou Dayori No. 83 (Figure 5.1). With more than one cultural element, one cannot tell whether it is a Japanese or Taiwanese article. In the following, the ambiguity of such a space is seen to facilitate the creation of a Japanese social space.

Figure 5.1  Gyokulansou Dayori which contains Japanese and Taiwanese poetry. Source: Cited from ‘Gyokulansou Dayori’ (Newsletter published by Gyokulansou), vol. 83, 2002, p. 5.

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  109 Events from the 2002 report on Gyokulansou activities as an example Table 5.1 is the list of events summarised, based on the 2002 report of G ­ yokulansou. The characteristics of these events are examined with the use of three ­categories created by the author, namely Japanese (J), Taiwanese (T), and ­Christianity (C). We may easily tell whether an event was a Japanese or Taiwanese one by checking the date shown in the report; Japanese events used the Japanese solar ­calendar, while Taiwanese events used the lunar calendar. For example, the Dragon Boat Festival was held on 14 June, indicating its Taiwanese cultural background. On the other hand, the Tanabata Party was on 5 July, showing its Japanese origin. Furthermore, winter vacation was scheduled in February, indicating it is a Taiwanese event, since Taiwanese people celebrate the Lunar New Year at this time.

Table 5.1  Events from the 2002 report on Gyokulansou activities M D

Events

1 30 Party in appreciation of visiting volunteers’ services 2 5 Party in appreciation of daily volunteers’ services 2 5-24 Winter vacation 3 4 Tea ceremony 3 20 General meeting 4 10 Picnic 4 27 Charity concert 5 10 Mother’s Day 5 31 Exchange party with GiKong Church (義光教會) 6 3 Director of JOCS visiting Gyokulansou 6 14 Dragon boat festival (端午節) 6 17 Seminar on disaster measures 7 5 Festival of the Weaver Party (七夕) 7 29 General cleaning before summer vacation 7 30 Summer vacation ~9/1 8 2 Free activities at member’s cottage 8 5 Funeral for a Japanese wife 9 16 Thanksgiving service for 13th anniversary of founding of Gyokulansou 9 20 Respect‐for‐the‐Aged Day and Mid-Autumn festival (中秋節) 9 23 Exchange party with Songshan Presbyterian Church (松山長老教會) 10 2 Free activities at member’s cottage 10 16 Picnic 11 8 Mini concert, Doshisha (同志社) University Old Boys’ Choir 11 9 Taiwan-Japan cultural exchange seminar 11 10 Taiwanese Rakugo (落語 Japanese Comedy) show 11 13 Gyokulansou charity craft bazaar 12 4 Piano concert 12 9 Party with teachers and students from Shih Chien (實踐) University 12 16 Christmas service and party Source: Produced by Yohei Fujino.

Categories

Taiwan Japan

Christianity Christianity Christianity Taiwan Japan Japan Christianity Christianity Japan and Taiwan Christianity

Japan Japan and Taiwan Japan and Taiwan Christianity Taiwan Christianity

110  Yohei FUJINO Some of these events cannot be clearly classified as Japanese, Taiwanese, or Christian. For example, the origin of Mother’s Day – the second Sunday of May – is a Christian event in the United States. However, it had already left the original context of Christianity and become a popular event in both Japan and Taiwan. General cleaning in July was originally a Japanese custom. Most Japanese perform osouji, or cleaning their house thoroughly, at the end of each year. However, in Gyokulansou, this event was held before the summer vacation. Moreover, Gyokulansou also organised the ‘Taiwanese Rakugo show’, even though rakugo is a traditional Japanese comedy. In addition, Christian activities such as the Thanksgiving service for the 13th anniversary of the founding of Gyokulansou and a funeral were held. From this, we see that Gyokylansou has incorporated both Japanese and Taiwanese traditions into their events. Also, the participants created a social space that suits optimally by combining and adopting different elements from Japan, Taiwan, and Christianity. How ‘玉蘭荘’ is pronounced? The characteristic of Gyokulansou as a multilingual space is also exemplified by the diverse pronunciations and representations of the Chinese characters of its organisation’s name 玉蘭. There are three alphabetical forms for 玉蘭, which are: Gyokuran in Japanese, Giok-lan in Taiwanese, and Yulan in Chinese, respectively. In this chapter, the author has referred to ‘玉蘭荘’ as Gyokulansou, the Japanese written transcription of the term. However, it is also interesting to consider in which language ‘玉蘭荘’ should be pronounced.

Figure 5.2 Seisho to Inori no Kai Gyokulan, which is written in kanji and has ruby characters in Japanese. Source: Cited from ‘Seisho to Inorinokai Dayori Gyokulan’ (Bulletin of Seisho to Inori no Kai: Gyokulan), vol.1, 1988, p. 1.

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  111 On its official homepage, ‘玉蘭荘’ is shown as ‘TAIPEI GYOKULANSOU DAY CARE CENTER’ using the Japanese transcription. As shown in Figure 5.2, however, significantly, this ‘ギョッラン’ was written in Japanese Katakana to indicate its pronunciation in Taiwanese. Gyokulansou Dayori explains, ‘we deliberately wrote the pronunciation of “玉蘭” in Japanese Katakana’ (Gyokulansou Dayori 10 year Commemorative Special Issue). This name, written in Japanese but pronounced in Taiwanese, is suitable for a social gathering space that integrates multiple identities. It is not a Japanese name, though it is written in Japanese (Katakana); at the same time, it is not written in Taiwanese, though it was pronounced in Taiwanese (with the help of Japanese Katakana). As mentioned earlier, Gyokulan are the tiny flowers so loved by the people of Taiwan. Yet, the name of this Taiwanese flower is written in Japanese (Katakana), suggesting that Gyokulansou should not be seen solely as Japanese or Taiwanese but, rather as a combination of both. An unusual Amen To show how Gyokulansou has combined both Japanese and Taiwanese context, an anecdote which the author calls ‘an Unusual Amen’ is also worthy of note (Gyokulansou Dayori 89). The husband of a Gyokulansou member was suffering from paralysis for the second time, and there was no cure. Although he was conscious, he was unable to speak clearly. His families took care of him, and volunteers visited them, sang hymns, and prayed with his family. According to Gyokulansou Dayori, he said Amen with all his strength on his deathbed. While the afore-mentioned article intends to emphasise that Amen was his last word, what the author, as a researcher, is also particularly interested is in his pronunciation of ‘Amen’. Was it Japanese ‘アーメン’ (aamen) or Taiwanese ‘阿門’(Amen)? Unfortunately, no one can answer this question now. It might have been Japanese or Taiwanese, or a combination of both. What is more important is that, from this example, Gyokulansou serves as a social space for Japanese-speaking Taiwanese where language diversity is accepted and respected. Those who frequently visit Gyokulansou look for a sense of ‘Japan’ and nostalgia. However, this version of Japan is something forgotten in Taiwanese history. Then, is the ‘Japan’ created in Gyokulansou just an illusion? That is absolutely not the case. The subjects in this study manifestly created their own TaiwaneseJapanese spaces through their practices.

Analysis: Japanese social space as a paradise in Taiwan Previous studies have pointed out that Gyokulansou attaches great importance to ‘Japanese’ language and provides care for the elderly (zhang 2011; Sato 2013). While the author agrees with these observations and arguments in general, it is important to note that other elements, such as ‘Taiwanese’ and Christianity, were also strategically incorporated in Gyokulanso. These different elements harmonise with each other and contribute to the promotion of wellbeing among the elderly members.

112  Yohei FUJINO The former chief secretary of Mr. D wrote an essay describing the aim of Gyokulansou (Gyokulansou Dayori 50). It stated that the organisation has a number of goals such as ‘1. making friends to prevent loneliness, 2. cheering and encouraging each other, 3. seeking true Christian belief, 4. cultivating hobbies and life-long learning, and 5. keeping good health’. Moreover, it was said that ‘if we believe in God, God will guide us. Our daily life will be full of hope, and the rest of our lives will become bright’. ‘The teachings of God are written in the Bible. If we read it, God will direct our path.’ It is clear that Christianity is an indispensable element for Gyokulansou. The following are some statements in Gyokulansou Dayori describing Gyokulansou as a Paradise. Gyokulansou has become a paradise for the elderly, which is bright and pleasant and where people help, encourage, love each other. (Gyokulansou Dayori 61) Let’s pray that Gyokulansou will become a more enjoyable Paradise in this year. (Gyokulansou Dayori 104) Once you walk in the Paradise of Gyokulansou. (Gyokulansou Dayori 2006 special issue of summer vacation) We shall never give in to suffering or sadness, and we shall make our Gyokulansou a beautiful space like the Garden of Eden in this world. (Gyokulansou Dayori 120) The social space at Gyokulansou is created by mixing the following elements: Paradise promised in Christianity, locality in Taiwan, Japanese social space, and service and caring for the elderly provided in the Japanese language. All of these elements work together to provide a comfortable social space for those at Gyokulansou who shared a collective memory of losing their nationality, mother language, identity, connections with local communities, or family relations. Certainly, each member has his or her own background and attaches different levels of importance to these elements. However, all of these elements are indispensable for the maintenance of the social space of Gyokulansou. As a faith-based Christian facility, how has Gyokulansou served as a ‘paradise’ for its members? In the context of Christianity, paradise originates from the ancient Persian word pairidaēza, meaning a perfect space in the next world. However, it may also be realised in this world, if one is with Jesus. One of the members’ favourite hymns in Gyokulansou is ‘Asu wo Mamorareru Iesu sama’ (明日を守られるイエスさま Jesus helps tomorrow). The lyrics are as follows: 明日はどんな日かわたしは知らない　晴れか嵐か曇りになるか I never know how it will be tomorrow; fine, stormy, or cloudy?

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  113 私は明日を心配しない　イエスがわたしを守られるから But I never worry how tomorrow will be because Jesus will help me tomorrow 明日はわたしにはわからないけど　明日を守られるイエスがおられる Even though I never know how tomorrow will be, Jesus will help me tomorrow. The hymn coveys the message that even in a world full of uncertainties, Christians may remain confident with the guidance from Jesus. Many members think highly of this hymn, and still love to sing it today in Gyokulansou, remembering the ups and downs of their life during the post-war era. They believe that there is no need to fear the future any more, because Jesus will be with them here in Gyokulansou. Their belief in God is further strengthened as services are held in Japanese, a language they are familiar with. In this sense, Gyokulansou is a paradise for them. Based on the teachings of Christianity, Gyokulansou serves as a unique social space, offering services in the Japanese language and care for those who cannot find their place in post-war Taiwan.

Conclusion Gyokulansou is naturally not a paradise in the literal sense. However, there are warm relationships among members in Gyokulansou. Some of these relationships are complicated and not reflected in Gyokulransou Dayori or Gyokulansou’s newsletter. Yet, by enjoying and cherishing these human relationships, the elderly members felt as though they were living in Paradise. Due to the diverse and interconnected meanings embedded in Gyokulransou, this space should not be studied by dividing it into separate elements, as some scholars from Japan, Taiwan, or China have done before. Instead, it is important to study Gyokulansou as it is, seeing it as a holistic space created with both Japanese, Taiwanese, and Christian elements which exist and work with each other in a harmony. In this chapter, the author has introduced the characteristics of Gyokulansou and studied the way in which this Christian facility has provided care for the elderly with Japanese backgrounds living in post-colonial Taiwan. However, there are issues that require further study. The first concerns the variety of members. In Taiwan, there are different kinds of Japanese wives and Japanese-­ speaking Taiwanese people. The majority of Japanese-speaking Taiwanese are Hoklo (福佬 a majority among Han People in Taiwan, descendants of migrants from southern Fujian), followed by the Hakka people. The Taiwanese language is not spoken by all Taiwanese; instead, it is merely used by those Hoklo who migrated to Taiwan from southern Fujian in mainland China. Therefore, Hoklo who were born and raised during the Japanese era have a sense that not only the Japanese language but also the Taiwanese language belongs to them. However, for the Hakka, the meaning of the Taiwanese language is quite different from that of the Hoklo.

114  Yohei FUJINO Since the Hoklo and Hakka communities have had different experiences, it is problematic to ignore these ethnic differences and consider all Japanese wives as one single group. Moreover, we should consider whether the husband of a Japanese wife is benshengren or waishengren. These subtle differences are not made explicit enough in Gyokulansou Dayori or Gyokulan for analysis. This is a gap we wish to be filled in future studies. The second issue is that the data presented here offer little information for understanding the position of Gyokulansou in Taiwanese society. Gyokulansou is not the only organisation using Japanese as their official language. In fact, there are several other Japanese-speaking groups which offer a Japanese social space for the Japanese-speaking Taiwanese and Japanese wives. It is noteworthy that, as in the case of Gyokulansou, these groups share similar political views: they are all anti-Chinese (Fujino 2015). Gyokulansou is distinctive among these pro-Japan groups in terms of its Christian background and organisational objective that promotes care for the elderly. However, this chapter lacks an outsider’s perspective on Gyokulansou. Due to the lack of materials published by other parties, it is difficult for us to grasp how the organisation has been perceived by the general public in Taiwan. While this study has these limitations, it nevertheless provides directions for future research. A more comprehensive and detailed picture of Gyokulansou may be obtained by looking at the ethnic composition of its memberships and retrieving and analysing documents published by third parties.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to acknowledge Amanda BRADLEY (Former Associate Professor, Miyazaki University) and NG KA SHING (Associate Professor, Hokkaido University), for their help with English proofreading. The Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science. Project No. 19K12469 Organiser: FUJINO Yohei.

Notes 1 ‘玉蘭荘’ should ordinarily be written as ‘Gyokuransou’, but since it is written as ‘Gyokulansou’ on its website, ‘Gyokulansou’ is also used here. 2 www.gyokulansou.org./about_us_j.htm accessed 11/12/2020. 3 Benshengren are people and their descendants who have lived in Taiwan since before World War II. 4 Waishengren are people and their descendants who have emigrated from China into Taiwan after World War II. 5 ‘Gyokulansou Dayori’ is still operational. The author researched there until March 2010 when he initiated field research. After 2013, he prepared another article based on ethnographic research. 6 Ordo Fratrum Praedicatorum (Dominican Order) from Spain (1626–1642) and Reformed churches from the Netherlands (1624–1662) also sent missionaries to

Christian nursing care in Taiwan  115 Taiwan. However, they withdrew from Taiwan after Koxinga began to rule Taiwan from 1661. Thus, I have introduced the trend here after modernisation in Taiwan. 7 Gyokulansou is a daycare centre where clients’ privacy is protected; pseudonyms are therefore used in this chapter. 8 www.jocs.or.jp/about/outline accessed 11/12/2020. 9 Ms A also worked for Gyokulansou as the chief secretary from February 1991. 10 Publication of this newsletter started out of interest in Taiwanese democratisation. After Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國) died on 13 January 1988, Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) became the acting president, and democratisation advanced rapidly. It had previously been extremely hard to publish Japanese books in Taiwan. 11 Repayment was completed in 2000 (Gyokulansou Dayori 71).

Bibliography AG15th (Anthology of Gyokulansou the 15th Anniversary of the Foundation Editorial Board) 玉蘭荘創立十五周年記念文集編集委員会, eds. (2004) Smell of Gyokulan: Anthology of Gyokulansou The 15th Anniversary of the Foundation 玉蘭のかほり―玉 蘭荘創立十五周年記念文集. Taipei: Gyokulansou 台北：社団法人台北市松年福祉 会「玉蘭荘」. AG25th (Anthology of Gyokulansou the 25th Anniversary of the Foundation Editorial Board) 玉蘭荘創立二十五周年記念文集編集委員会, eds. (2014) Smell of Gyokulan: Anthology of Gyokulansou The 25th Anniversary of the Foundation 玉蘭のかほり―玉 蘭荘創立二十五周年記念文集 Taipei: Gyokulansou 台北：社団法人台北市松年福 祉会「玉蘭荘」. Fujino, Yohei 藤野陽平. (2013) Anthropology of Popular Christianity in Taiwan: Social Contexts and Practices of Healing 台湾における民衆キリスト教の人類学―社会的 文脈と癒しの実践. Tokyo: Fukyosha. ———. (2015) ‘Worship in Japanese in Former Japanese Colony: The Case of the International Japanese Presbyterian Church in Taiwan’ 旧植民地にて日本語で礼拝する―台 湾基督長老教会国際日語教会の事例から. In Suzuki Masataka 鈴木正崇, ed., Whisper of the Universe: Aspects of Folk Religion Studies 森羅万象のささやき―民俗宗 教研究の諸相. Tokyo: Fukyosha. Igarashi, Masako 五十嵐真子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds. (2006) ‘Japan’ in the Postwar Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilization of Colonial Experience 戦後台 湾における〈日本〉―植民地経験の連続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha. Inaba, Keishin 稲場圭信. (2011) Altruism and Religion 利他主義と宗教. Tokyo: Koubundou. Kasai, Kenta 葛西賢太 and Masanari Itai 板井正斉, eds. (2013) Religion as Care ケアと しての宗教 Tokyo: Akashi Shoten. Sato, Takahito 佐藤貴仁. (2013) ‘The Meaning of Language Activity in the Japanese Generation in Taiwan’ 現在を生きる台湾日本語世代の日本語によることばの活動の 意味. Studies of Language and Cultural Education 言語文化教育研究, 11:391–409. Seisho to Inori no Kai 聖書と祈りの会. (1988–1992) Bulletin of Seisho to Inori no Kai: Gyokulan 聖書と祈りの会だより―玉蘭. No. 1–12. Taipei: Seisho to Inori no Kai 台 北：聖書と祈りの会. Terada, Yoshiro 寺田喜朗. (2009) Acceptance of Japanese New Religion in Former Colony: A Monograph of Seicho-no-ie in Taiwan 旧植民地における日系新宗教の受容― 台湾生長の家のモノグラフ. Tokyo: Harvest-sha.

116  Yohei FUJINO Ueno, Hiroko 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds. (2011) Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾に おける〈植民地〉経験―日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha. Zhang, Mingde 張明徳. (2009) The Elderly in Gyokulansou 玉蘭荘のシルバー族 Taipei: Gyokulansou 台北： 台北市松年福祉会玉蘭荘. zhang, Wenjuan 張紋絹. (2011) ‘A Basic Study on Gyokulansou Daycare Centre for the Elderly in Japanese in Taipei, Taiwan’ 台湾台北市における日本語による高齢者デ イケアセンター「玉蘭荘」に関する基礎的研究. East Asia Study 東アジア研究 55:65–88.

6  Palau Sakura Kai An association of Palauans of Japanese ancestry Shingo IITAKA

Introduction Japanese rule in Micronesia began in 1914 when the Japanese Navy occupied the German-held territory in Micronesia. After the war, Japan was given a mandate by the League of Nations to administer the territory, known by Japanese as Nan’yō Guntō (南洋群島 South Sea Islands). A civil administrative body, the South Seas Government (南洋庁 Nan’yō-chō), was established in Koror, Palau, in 1922, and it continued to control these territories, even after the Japanese Empire withdrew from the League of Nations in 1935. The characteristics of Japan’s administration in Micronesia included the promotion of immigration, with both the Mariana Islands and the Palau Islands representing major destinations for the immigrants.1 They found employment in the sugarcane industry in Saipan, Tinian, and Rota on the Marianas. They also engaged in fishing, agriculture, mining, and various urban jobs in Palau. Urban Japanese settlements were established in Garapan on Saipan, Koror in Palau, and Kolonia on Ponape (Pohnpei) (Peattie 1988: 153–197). In 1922, there were 47,713 Micronesians categorised as islanders (島民 tōmin) by the Japanese administration. At that time, no more than 3,310 Japanese immigrants lived in Micronesia. The administration soon dropped its earlier reluctance in favour of a positive policy regarding the development of the islands, by sending in Japanese immigrants. By 1925, Japanese immigrants in the Marianas outnumbered the indigenous inhabitants. The sharpest increase took place in the mid-1930s, when Japan reinforced its imperial policy. By 1935, the population of Japanese immigrants exceeded 50,000, outnumbering the total population of Micronesians. At that time 39,728 Japanese immigrants were living in the Marianas. In the Palau Islands, 6,553 Japanese immigrants outnumbered the 6,230 Palauans. At first, most immigrants in the Marianas were from Okinawa. Those from Tōhoku and other regions were brought in after many Okinawans went on strike for better pay in the mid-1920s. In Palau, about 45% of the Japanese immigrants were from Okinawa in the mid-1930s (SSG 1932, 1937). Following the influx of Japanese immigrants, ‘mixed-blood’ children were born to Japanese fathers and Micronesian mothers on islands where unaccompanied Japanese men settled as workers, merchants, fishermen, farmers, and so forth. Whilst most Japanese lived with their families in the Marianas, there were many

118  Shingo IITAKA unaccompanied Japanese men in Palau and other Micronesian islands. Mixedblood children born to Japanese fathers and Micronesian mothers became increasingly conspicuous in the 1930s. It is well known that prominent statesmen, who played active roles in building new nations in Micronesia in the post-Pacific War period, such as Tosiwo Nakayama (the first president of the Federated States of Micronesia), Amata Kabua (the first president of the Republic of the Marshall Islands), and Kuniwo Nakamura (former president of the Republic of Palau),2 were mixed-bloods born to Japanese fathers and Micronesian mothers (Kobayashi 2010; Hanlon 2014). This chapter examines how Palauans of Japanese ancestry – those born to Japanese fathers and Palauan mothers during the Japanese administration era – experienced catastrophic social change after the Pacific War and how they have recognised their Japanese descent up until now. Previous historical anthropological studies on Southeast Asia and Oceania already focused on the intimate relationships between Westerners and indigenous people, including those between colonists and indigenous servants as well as those between soldiers and local women, to investigate the construction of social categories which blurred clear binary opposition such as ‘the ruler vs. the ruled’ (e.g. Cooper and Stolar 1997; Bennet and Wanhalla 2016). However, little attention has up to now been paid to the intimacy between the coloniser and the colonised in Japan’s Nan’yō, where the intimacy was real with the influx of Japanese immigrants. An exception is the historical study focusing on the pre-war physical anthropologists’ discourses on ‘mixed-blood’ children (e.g. Sakano 2005). In the Japanese administration era, most Palauans of Japanese ancestry were raised by Palauan mothers and their relatives, attending state primary schools set up for native islanders (公学校 kōgakkō). A few of them, meanwhile, were brought up by both parents and attended state primary schools set up for Japanese children (小学校 shōgakkō). After the Pacific War, most children were left behind on their islands with their mothers, while a few were required to ‘evacuate’ with their fathers to Japan, the country they had never been. Some eventually returned to Micronesia because of difficulties with adjusting to severe post-war life in Japan. In the mid-1960s, some Palauans of Japanese ancestry established the Palau Sakura Kai (Palau Cherry Blossom Association), a voluntary association designed to provide mutual aid in their daily lives (Iitaka 2009, 2016c). The association also tried to reconstruct their relationship with Japan by welcoming Japanese visitors. Its members have often been represented as pro-Japanese (親日 shinnichi) or ethnic Japanese (日系人 Nikkeijin) in the records written by Japanese visitors, largely because they treated the Japanese with hospitality and spoke fluent Japanese they had learned in prewar era. This pro-Japanese discourse describing Palauans of Japanese ancestry is like an apparition of colonial discourse under the Empire of Japan, which was partly reproduced in studies of ethnic Japanese and its identity. After critically investigating the colonial discourse in post-war Japan, the author presents ethnographic data on the way Palauans of Japanese ancestry have fostered ambivalent identities, which have resulted from the complex politico-economic

Palau Sakura Kai  119 processes caused by the arrival and departure of two suzerain states (Japan and the United States). Regarding the terminology, ‘Palauans of Japanese ancestry’ or ‘mixed-bloods’ is used in the descriptive parts: the former refers to those who were left behind, or eventually returned to Palau after the Pacific War, as well as their descendants. The latter covers all those born to Palauan mothers and Japanese fathers before the end of the Pacific War. I avoid the term ‘ethnic Japanese’ (Nikkeijin), which is often used in pro-Japanese discourse and some academic writings (e.g. Kobayashi 2010). It does not reflect the ambivalent cultural identity of Palauans with Japanese ancestry. As Maeyama points out, ethnic Japanese is often misconceived as a single entity, but it is, in fact, more diverse and their identities are situational (Maeyama 2001: 382). The terms konketsu (混血 mixed-bloods) and konketsuji (混血児 mixed-blood children) are used when scrutinising historical documents from the Japanese administration era. These terms were used in historical documents written in Japanese. In addition, Palauan loanwords from Japanese, such as Nikkei (ethic Japanese or people of Japanese ancestry) and ainoko (mixedbloods), are also used when Palauans’ narratives are quoted. Palauans of Japanese ancestry live as Palauans but are sometimes marked with these terms and discriminated against by other Palauans.

Births of mixed-blood children in Palau Since Japan’s Nan’yō Guntō was an overseas territory of the Great Empire of Japan, Micronesians were not entitled to hold Japanese nationality (SSG 1932: 11). The Japanese administration categorised Micronesians into two groups: Chamorro and Kanaka. The former referred to the indigenous people of the Marianas, while the latter referred to other Micronesians and held a derogatory connotation. Although some Chamorro were regarded as civilised due to Westernisation under the Spanish administration, most Micronesians were recognised as ‘primitive people’ waiting to be civilised by the Japanese (SSG 1932: 464–467). In spite of the legal inequality among the occupants of the territory, the Japanese administration aimed to culturally assimilate all Micronesians into the Empire of Japan by promoting education in state primary schools and organising young people’s associations (青年団 seinendan). Even though the attendance rate at the primary schools was low in remote areas, the administration tightened assimilation policies in the 1930s, when Japan devoted itself to militarism (Imaizumi 1996: 606). Through the three-year regular course and the two-year ­supplementary course, Micronesian children were trained to speak Japanese, acquire practical skills, such as sewing and craftsmanship, and revere the sacred Empire of Japan. A few male graduates entered the carpenter apprentice training school (木工徒弟養成所 Mokkō totei yōseijo) established in Koror. However, Micronesians in general had no opportunity to obtain higher education. This is how the South Seas Government separated Micronesians from the Japanese immigrants in the administrative system, but in actuality, Micronesians and Japanese immigrants inevitably mingled in their daily lives. Subsequently, a

120  Shingo IITAKA considerable number of mixed-bloods were born to Japanese fathers and Micronesian mothers (Kobayashi 2010).3 Although the precise number is unknown, a record from a state primary school for Micronesians informs us that mixedblood children were attending classes in every grade in the early 1930s. In this report, they were called konketsuji. According to the General Condition of School recorded by the Koror Primary School for Micronesians in 1933 (KPSM 1933),4 11 mixed-bloods out of 124 schoolchildren attended the three-year regular course (本科 honka), making up about 8.9% of the total students. In the first grade, there were 2 mixed-bloods out of 38 children. In the second grade, there were 6 out of 42. In the third grade, there were 3 out of 44. In addition, there were 5 mixed-bloods out of 116 schoolchildren attending the two-year supplementary course (補習科 hoshūka), making up about 4.3% of the total students. In the first grade, there were 2 mixed-bloods out of 66. In the second grade, there were 2 out of 47 (KPSM 1933). The rate of the mixed-bloods in the supplementary course was less than half that of the regular course. This is because the supplementary course recruited superior schoolchildren from all over Palau, while most mixed-bloods were born in Koror. Some Japanese immigrants built up agricultural colonies on Babeldaob Island, the biggest volcanic island of the Palau Islands, but most settled in families. The author assumed that there were only a few mixed-bloods who were originally from rural areas and that those who were born in Koror represented the majority. When Palauan schoolchildren from rural area joined the supplementary course, the rate of mixed-blood children decreased. These mixed-bloods attending state primary schools for Micronesians were illegitimate children. They were raised by Palauan mothers and their relatives, since their Japanese fathers were reluctant to record them in their family registers. At the same time, some mixed-blood children attended state primary schools set up for Japanese children, since their fathers were legally married to Palauan mothers and had recorded them in their family registers. The latter cases were exceptional. The South Seas Government lacked any appropriate policies to deal with the ambivalent social positions of the mixed-bloods and left such decisions to the families. As a result of this neglect, mixed-bloods were faced with difficult situations during the transition period after the Pacific War. The US military administration ordered all Japanese military personnel and immigrants from Japan and its overseas territories, including Korea and Taiwan, to evacuate from Micronesia (Imaizumi 2005; Asano 2007). Although many mixed-bloods and their mothers had lived without Japanese fathers, the evacuation still caused family separations. Legitimate mixed-blood children had to tread thorny paths too. They were given the right to choose whether to remain in Micronesia or ‘evacuate’ to Japan, the country they had never seen in their lives before (Richard 1957: 38). Some have remained in Japan ever since the evacuation, but others returned to Micronesia because of the difficulties they faced living in war-devastated Japan. Kuniwo Nakamura, the former president of the Republic of Palau, and his family were among those who eventually returned to Palau (Sayson 2001). The complex

Palau Sakura Kai  121 administrative processes of having two suzerain states (Japan and the United States) forced the mixed-bloods to cross both spatial and social borders.

Japanese gaze on mixed-bloods Before proceeding to investigate the turbulent lives of Palauans of Japanese ancestry, the Japanese gaze towards mixed-bloods in Micronesia is briefly analysed from unofficial records written in the Japanese administration era and the post-war era. When mixed-blood children first made their presence in Micronesia under the Japanese administration, Japanese citizens became concerned regarding how to raise them both in homes and in schools. However, their concerns ended up intensifying their national identity as Japanese, rather than acknowledging the difficult situation faced by the mixed-bloods. Nonaka Fumio, a travel writer who went on an expedition to Japan’s Nan’yō Guntō in the early 1930s, reported that mixed-bloods wished to marry Japanese, instead of ‘Kanaka’, since ‘they had Japanese blood’, but that the Japanese did not want to marry them. He also said that many mixed-bloods were in a state of despair because they were in a betwixtand-between status: they became neither ‘Kanaka’ nor Japanese (Nonaka 1990: 84). Whether mixed-bloods really wished to marry Japanese or not should be scrutinised further, as such a view might reflect the self-satisfied confidence of those from the suzerain state. Nonetheless, the narrative tells us that the mixedbloods were recognised as an ambivalent category and were discriminated against by other Japanese citizens. In the 1940s, some Japanese intellectuals insisted that mixed-bloods should be raised as Japanese citizens.5 Noguchi Masaaki, an editor of the ‘Nan’yō Guntō’, a local journal published in Koror, criticised the home environment of mixed-bloods, where Palauan mothers and their relatives took care of them while the Japanese fathers lived separately. He insisted that ‘their species as Japanese’ had to be respected in order for them to be raised appropriately (Noguchi 1941: 84). Such an assimilation discourse, incorporating mixedbloods into the Japanese blood line, corresponded with the narratives of certain Japanese physical anthropologists at that time, insisting that mixed-bloods were hardly assimilated and thus disturbed Japanese identity (Sakano 2005: 445). These assimilation discourses reflected the tense situation under the National Mobilisation Law (国家総動員法 kokkasōdōinhō), which eventually plunged Japan into the Pacific War. At the same time, an excellent mixed-blood child from Palau was reported in Nonaka’s account. A female mixed-blood (hereinafter TY), born to a Japanese father originally from the Bonin Islands and a Palauan mother from the traditional chief’s line of Peleliu Island, was entered in the family register of her father and raised as Japanese. Even though she suffered from discrimination, TY attended Koror Primary School set up for Japanese children, moved to the Bonin Islands, and graduated from an advanced course in Japan. She always obtained excellent grades at school. Nonaka insisted that TY’s outstanding academic competence was the result of bringing her up as Japanese (Nonaka 1990: 85).

122  Shingo IITAKA After the Pacific War, Micronesians of Japanese ancestry lived with many vicissitudes, but Japanese citizens remained silent regarding the situation. In the 1960s, when former Japanese immigrants and veterans returned to Palau to conduct spirit-consoling services for the war dead, the Palauans of Japanese ancestry were represented as those who had a strong identity as Japanese and inherited Japanese culture. This pro-Japanese discourse was clearly expressed in a travel report written by Funasaka Hiroshi, a survivor of the Battle of Angaur, who organised the earliest nongovernmental memorial tours to Palau in 1968. He called Palauans of Japanese ancestry Nikkei (ethnic Japanese) and believed that they were viewed with suspicion by the US administration as they were Japanophiles (NSK 1968: 8). Funasaka expressed his gratitude to the Palauans of Japanese ancestry who maintained the Japanese Cemetery in Koror, known as the Navy Cemetery (海軍墓地 Kaigunbochi), because the Japanese Navy was stationed there during the occupation of Palau in 1914. Funasaka also insisted that they never lost their Japanese spirit and pride. He even said that ‘they were more genuinely Japanese than he or other visitors were’, as they kept speaking the fluent Japanese that they had learned under the Japanese administration (NSK 1968: 29).

Palau Sakura Kai (Palau Cherry Blossom Association) Behind the excitement and appreciation among Japanese visitors, Palauans of Japanese ancestry had their own reasons to welcome them. During the transition period under the new administration,6 it is likely that the Palauans of Japanese ancestry were more self-reflective than other Palauans, because of the various difficulties they had experienced. They could not help reflecting the legacy of the Japanese administration, including their Japanese descent, which was no longer a political or cultural resource under the US administration. The situation led to the establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai by the Palauans of Japanese ancestry. Establishment The Palau Sakura Kai was established in the mid-1960s by Palauans of Japanese ancestry living in Koror and its suburbs.7 Those who lived in other areas also joined the association thereafter. Members helped each other to deal with difficult situations facing those who had lost paternal ties after the evacuation of Japanese immigrants. They have also welcomed Japanese visitors who came to Palau since the late 1960s to conduct memorial services for the war dead. Those Palauans described as Japanophiles in Funasaka’s report mentioned earlier represented the members of the Palau Sakura Kai. Most of the core members at the time are now deceased, but there are a few elders who remember the reasons why the association was established. According to UK (born in 1931), one of the male founders, who is leading the association to this day, there were three aims behind the establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai: mutual aid, the acceptance of Japanese visitors, and to help search for fathers and paternal relatives in Japan. Drastic social changes after the Pacific War had a

Palau Sakura Kai  123 great impact on Palauans of Japanese ancestry. Those left behind in Palau spent their lives in the safety net of a matrilineal society. However, their social capital was limited because of their lack of paternal networks. Furthermore, Palauans of Japanese ancestry were sometimes discriminated against by other Palauans. Such vulnerability was compensated for by the establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai. Finding ways to maintain or reconstruct relationships with Japanese relatives in the post-war era was also an important issue for Palauans of Japanese ancestry. When Japanese veterans and former immigrants came to Palau for memorial services for the war dead, the members of the Palau Sakura Kai devoted themselves to supporting their activities. UK, a member of the legislature of the Palau District of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands in the late 1960s, offered the Japanese visitors the convenience of acquiring entry visas to Palau. He also arranged accommodation at the hotel he owned in Koror. The association generously helped Japanese visitors to apply for permits for the use of land for the war memorials planned to be built in the Japanese Cemetery in Koror, as well as on the battlefields of Peleliu and Angaur. As Funasaka stated in his report, Japanese visitors strongly assumed that the Palau Sakura Kai members welcomed memorial tour groups from Japan because of their common descent as Japanese (NSK 1968: 18). However, these Palauans of Japanese ancestry also welcomed Japanese visitors for more practical reasons. They were deeply concerned about the wellbeing of their fathers and paternal relatives in Japan, and it was crucial for them to accept Japanese visitors who might provide them with information about their relatives. Composition When Funasaka’s group visited Palau in 1968, the Palau Sakura Kai consisted of approximately 50 members (NSK 1968: 156). The members held monthly meetings and collected a small amount of funds as membership fee to build a reserve fund. Their mutual aid activities included finding jobs in Koror, offering mutual loans, and consulting each other regarding difficulties in their daily lives. Membership of the association was flexible. There were no regulations concerning who was admitted into the association. Some Palauans of non-Japanese ancestry and Japanese residents in Palau, who approved of the aims of association and had close ties to the members as friends and spouses, also joined the association. Although historical materials are limited, it is possible to investigate from oral histories who were the founders of the association.8 When the Palau Sakura Kai was founded, older members were in their late forties and fifties. They were born before a large number of Japanese immigrants settled in Palau. The oldest male member (hereinafter MR) was born in the 1910s. It is said that MR was born to a Palauan mother and a high-ranking commander in the Japanese Navy, which engaged in the occupation of Palau during World War I. MR’s wife was also of Japanese ancestry. Since their daughter served as the principal of the Palau High School, students from the school attended the memorial services conducted by Japanese visitors in later years. The oldest female member was TY, whom Nonaka

124  Shingo IITAKA described in his travel writing in the 1930s as an excellent student (Nonaka 1990). Together with her husband (hereinafter SG), also of Japanese ancestry, she devoted herself to supporting memorial tour groups from Japan and helping them to erect war memorials on Peleliu. The male founders of the association also included those recorded in their fathers’ family registers. YN and IW, both born in 1920, had Japanese fathers who had emigrated to Palau during the earlier stages of the Japanese administration. They attended Koror Primary School set up for Japanese children. IW proceeded to Saipan Industrial School (サイパン実業学校 Saipan Jitsugyō Gakkō), the highest educational institution in Micronesia under the Japanese administration. Both were conscripted in Palau during the Pacific War but spent their lives as Palauans in the post-war era. YN was appointed to an important post in the Palau District of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands and used his role to provide job opportunities to other Palauans of Japanese ancestry. IW, meanwhile, had large networks in Japan through the alumni association of Saipan Industrial School. In addition to these founders, there were other male Palauans of Japanese ancestry who initiated the establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai. None were recorded in their Japanese family registers and all attended state primary schools set up for Micronesians. AD was one of them. His mother was from a kin group holding one of the higher traditional chief titles in Koror, and his influence has been inherited through his genealogy. AD’s grandson now assists Japanese memorial tour groups in Palau, because he has held an important position in Koror since the 1990s. There are no records to indicate how the members of the Palau Sakura Kai have changed since its establishment, but there is fragmentary information in the name lists which Japanese visitors recorded in their travel reports. Although the author cannot find reliable sources from the 1970s and 1980s, a report compiled by a voluntary association from Okinawa, the Palau Association in Okinawa (沖縄パ ラオ会 Okinawa Palau Kai), which has organised memorial tours to Palau since the 1970s, informs us of the composition of the association in the early 1990s. According to the report (OPK 1993: 171–172, 180), there were 63 members of the Palau Sakura Kai in 1993. Among them, 33 were born to Japanese fathers and Palauan mothers in the pre-war era, 10 had parents or grandparents born to Japanese fathers and Palauan mothers, 5 were Palauans, 4 had been left behind by Japanese parents during the evacuation and brought up as Palauans after the war, and 11 were Japanese living on Palau and Guam for business reasons. While those who were born to Japanese fathers and Palauan mothers were ageing or deceased, their descendants also joined the association. According to interviews conducted by the author,9 as many as 8 out of the 33 mixed-bloods, either temporarily or throughout the duration, attended primary or national schools set up for Japanese children. Since most of the mixed-bloods were raised as Micronesians, and therefore supposed to attend state primary schools set up for islanders, the rate of their attendance at primary or national schools for Japanese seems too high. This suggests that some mixed-bloods registered in Japanese family registries were either left behind or subsequently returned to Palau. They became Palauans in the post-war era and core members of the Palau

Palau Sakura Kai  125 Sakura Kai, whilst several mixed-bloods who had attended state primary schools for islanders did not join the association. Another important point is that Palauans of Japanese ancestry tended to marry each other. There were 10 married couples out of 63 members of the Palau Sakura Kai in 1993. Three couples out of these 10 were either from marriages between mixed-bloods or marriages between mixed-bloods and their children. This type of couple included UK and his wife, as well as TY and SG. MR, the oldest among the founders of the association, also married a Palauan of Japanese ancestry. Five couples were from marriages between Palauans and Japanese residents in Palau. Some Japanese were former immigrants evacuated to Japan but subsequently repatriated to Palau after the 1960s. Other Japanese members included those born in the post-war era who had subsequently emigrated to Palau for work. The number of Japanese members has increased since the association’s establishment.10 Membership of the Palau Sakura Kai has decreased greatly since the 1990s. The author attended memorial services in Koror in 2004 and 2013, arranged by the Palau Association in Okinawa. In both cases, the original members of the Palau Sakura Kai were too old to clean up the cemetery, but because of his influence as governor, AD’s grandson was able to arrange the venue in the Japanese Cemetery in Koror. One remarkable difference between the 2003 and 2013 services was the decline in the number of participants from both Okinawa and Palau.11 There were fewer Palauan participants in 2013, with only four members in the Palau Sakura Kai, which was faced with the threat of extinction. Life histories The Palau Sakura Kai consists of Palauans of Japanese ancestry, combined with other Palauans and Japanese residents in Palau. Here, brief life histories of three Palauans of Japanese ancestry are presented. They were core members of the association when the author was conducting long-term fieldwork in Palau from 2002 to 2004. They have different educational backgrounds and experiences both under the Japanese administration and in the post-war era. Thus, they recognise their Japanese descent in slightly different ways; however, they occasionally reunited through the Palau Sakura Kai. UK (1930–) UK has led the association since its establishment. His father had been in the Philippines and Shanghai before settling in Palau at around the time that the Japanese Navy occupied the island in 1914. His father engaged in business related to forestry and fishery and sent botanical samples to research institutions in Japan. UK was his oldest son. UK’s name was recorded in his father’s family register. He attended Koror Primary School set up for Japanese immigrants and entered the Junior High School in Palau, founded in 1942. Since his father had died young, UK’s younger brother was raised in his Palauan mother’s household. However, when the younger brother was eight, Japanese officials came and ordered his

126  Shingo IITAKA mother to make him attend Koror Primary School for Japanese. UK gave his younger brother Japanese lessons after school, because his competence in Japanese was limited. After the end of the Pacific War, UK was required to evacuate to Japan, where his father was born but UK had never been. His mother and her relatives were strongly opposed to his repatriation, but he evacuated with the family of his father’s business partner. He stayed with the family in Nagasaki prefecture and attended junior high school there. However, he returned to Palau owing to difficulties he faced in adjusting to the new environment in Japan. He entered universities in Hawai‘i and Fiji to become a medical doctor. He then served as congressman of the Palau District of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands and held other important positions in political and governmental sectors at the outset of democracy. He also established a tour agency at the earliest stage of tourism development in post-war Palau and served as the ambassador at the Palau Embassy in Tokyo from 2009 to 2012. He was awarded the Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Star (旭日重光章 Kyokujitsujūkōshō) by the Japanese government in 2018. He still maintains a relationship with his father’s relatives in Japan and occasionally visits them. As president of the Palau Sakura Kai, he leads the association and offers warm hospitality to Japanese visitors, along with a few other members. SG (1920–2008) SG was an illegitimate child born to a Japanese father and a Palauan mother from Airai village. He was raised by his mother and maternal relatives in Airai. After graduating from the supplementary course of Koror Primary School for Micronesians, SG worked as a delivery man at the tofu company in Koror, owned by a Japanese immigrant. SG also engaged in odd jobs around the office of the South Seas Government. His position at the office was called ‘tea-pouring boy’ (お茶ボ ーイ ochabōi). In 1939, he stayed in Saipan to learn the technical skills to operate vehicles. After returning to Palau, he drove a three-wheeler truck in Koror and navigated a ferryboat connecting Koror Island and Babeldaob Island. Like most other mixed-bloods, he was left behind in Palau after the Pacific War. He worked in the governmental sector and engaged in property business in Koror. He inherited a traditional chief title from his maternal kin group in Airai in his later years. While he seldom talked about his Japanese father, he was deeply conscious of his Japanese descent. He regretted the fact that he had lost contact with his father, who had evacuated to Japan, and fervently wished to meet him again in order to reconstruct the relationship with his paternal relatives in Japan. This is why SG, along with his wife, TY from Peleliu, accepted and took care of memorial tour groups from Japan. He knew many people from Japan and generously offered support to former military personnel and former immigrants. He let his daughter study abroad in Japan under the US administration when English was regarded as important in education. On his decease in 2008, many Japanese residents and visitors attended the funeral. He was buried in his family graveyard as a traditional chief, but a unique tomb was built. Both his Palauan name and his Japanese name

Palau Sakura Kai  127 were inscribed on the tombstone, with the letters written both in the traditional alphabet and in kanji with katakana. FM (1931–) FM’s father emigrated from Okinawa to Palau. He was a sawyer and charcoal burner and settled in Ngchesar village, where he met FM’s mother. While most Japanese immigrants in Ngchesar lived in a settlement named Shimizu Mura (清水村 Shimizu village), FM’s father lived in a Palauan hamlet. FM was born in 1931 and was the eldest in the family. She attended Melekeok Primary School for Micronesians, north of Ngchesar, which she had to walk through the mountains to reach. She moved to Koror and stayed at a maternal relative’s house in order to attend Koror Primary School for Micronesians. In later years, she came back to Ngchesar to attend a national school set up for Japanese immigrants. As FM’s father died of illness during the Pacific War, FM and her other siblings did not evacuate to Japan and were left behind with her mother in Ngchesar. Her older brother, born to a different mother, returned to Okinawa, while her younger siblings completed their primary education under the US administration. When she had finished raising her children, she received training in hotel management and tourism at a vocational-training centre, and opened her business. FM now owns a guesthouse in Koror. FM has maintained her relationship with her paternal relatives in the post-war period through her elder brother. She visited Okinawa for the first time in 1969. FM’s father was buried in Ngchesar, but disinterred in 1970. His remains were reburied in separate places: some were buried in Koror, where FM lived, while others were sent to Okinawa. In later years, FM reburied her father’s ashes again in the public cemetery in Ngchesar, where her maternal relatives were buried. FM has supported Japanese visitors coming to Palau for memorial services. She deepened the relationship with former Japanese immigrants who settled in Shimizu village, helping them to build a memorial in the public cemetery in Ngchesar in 2008. FM’s guesthouse in Koror is popular among Japanese visitors, including former immigrants. These three Palauans of Japanese ancestry underwent a range of different experiences: they were raised in different environments, had different educations under the Japanese administration, and experienced different relationships with their paternal relatives after the war. UK was raised as Japanese and attended Japanese schools, while SG was raised as a Palauan. FM attended schools for both Micronesian and Japanese children at different times. UK and FM maintain relationships with their paternal relatives in Japan, while SG lost contact with his father after the war. Nevertheless, they all joined the Palau Sakura Kai, welcomed Japanese visitors who came to Palau for memorial services, and reconstructed relationships with the Japanese in the post-war era. The members of the Palau Sakura Kai were represented as pro-Japanese or Japanophile in the reports written by Funasaka and other memorial tour participants, but the association also fulfilled other aims, such as offering mutual aid to those lacking paternal social

128  Shingo IITAKA networks and helping to search for their paternal relatives in Japan. Rather than keeping a distinct identity as ‘ethnic Japanese’, the members of the association gathered for common purposes. The membership was not so rigid as to prevent other Palauans and Japanese from joining the association.

Between Palauans and Japanese The establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai itself suggests that Palauans of Japanese ancestry felt vulnerable because of their ambivalent positionality. Even though they lived as Palauans in the post-war era, they were not the same as other ­Palauans, and their social capital was limited due to their lack of paternal networks. Palauans of Japanese ancestry were absorbed into Palauan matrilineal kin groups in the post-war period. However, they were called Nikkei, ainoko, and other distinctive terms and were often discriminated against by other Palauans. Matrilineal kin groups worked as safety nets for many Palauans of Japanese ancestry who had been fostered by, or spent their lives with, maternal relatives without major problems. Matrilineal societies exist across Micronesia, whereby persons are affiliated preferentially to maternal kin groups but selectively in terms of those on their father’s side. Palauan kin group (kebliil) is called ambi-matrilineal by anthropologists (Aoyagi 1985: 32), because it consists of descendants of both female members (ochell) and male members (ulechell). Ideally, the former are stronger members than the latter (Aoyagi 1985; Smith 1983). While Palauans of Japanese ancestry faced the crisis of family separation after the Pacific War, their maternal kin groups embraced them and secured their lives in Palau. Even though they lacked paternal ties, they developed careers in various fields, including business, as well as modern and traditional politics.12 Even though their Japanese fathers evacuated, they never lost the right to inherit property or status through their maternal ties. Thus, Palauans of Japanese ancestry were able to consolidate stable social positions.13 At the same time, the social capital of Palauans of Japanese ancestry was only partial. Paternal ties were still important in Palau, especially after contact with Europeans, which caused the local population to decline drastically. Due to the lack of kin members, paternal ties, as well as maternal ties, were traced in order to maintain kin groups. The modern economy introduced under the German and Japanese administrations also motivated people to inherit land and other forms of property from their father’s side. Matrilineal residential groups living together in clan lands dissolved and lived in smaller, extended families (Sugiura 1944). Thus, the inheritance of land and traditional chief titles through their fathers and other paternal kin groups increased. The lack of paternal ties in Palau was no small disadvantage. After the Pacific War, FM took precautions against her Palauan step-father, who might have taken over the land which her biological father reclaimed under the Japanese administration and thus her mother inherited after his death. While Palauans of Japanese ancestry could inherit property and titles from their Palauan adoptive fathers, their positions were still vulnerable.

Palau Sakura Kai  129 The Palauans of Japanese ancestry mentioned earlier experienced discrimination at primary schools either for Micronesians or for Japanese, which they attended under the Japanese administration. They also suffered from discrimination in the post-war era. UK recalled that he was called ‘islander’ and teased by other Japanese children at the state primary school for Japanese. He also recalled that he was called ‘Japanese’ by the Palauan children in his neighbourhood. When he was repatriated to Palau after his evacuation to Japan, he was often called ‘Japanese’. FM was also called ‘islander’ and teased by other Japanese children when she switched to the national school in Shimizu village. FM had no memory of discrimination at the primary school for Micronesians, but she distinguished herself from other Palauans by saying that it was Nikkei, not islanders, who worked as diligently as the Japanese. Post-war discrimination is exemplified by the unique burial cases of mixedbloods at the Japanese Cemetery in Koror, where Japanese visitors have built war memorials and conducted memorial services with the assistance of the Palau Sakura Kai. Some Palauans of Japanese ancestry, who were not allowed to be buried either at the traditional burial sites of their kin groups or in the public cemetery, were buried at the Japanese Cemetery. UK said that the Japanese Cemetery was a cemetery for those Palauans with no place to return to. Due to the flexibility of the descent system in Palau, controversies sometimes occur among kin groups over where a body should be buried (Endo 1997, 2002), but it is unusual for a body to be excluded from all burial sites for Palauans. The unique burial cases at the Japanese Cemetery suggest that Palauans of Japanese ancestry may be excluded when their affiliations have to be proven at the last minute (Iitaka 2016a, 2016b). The Palau Sakura Kai supplemented the limited social capital of Palauans of Japanese ancestry. It also provided a form of safety when members were discriminated against by other Palauans. These Palauans of Japanese ancestry temporarily remember and confirm their Japanese descent collectively, although they live as Palauans and do not have a clear identity as ‘ethnic Japanese’. In truth, Palauans of Japanese ancestry needed the Palau Sakura Kai to ensure they had better lives in post-war Palau, but they have ambivalent identities because of their positions in the social space between their Japanese ancestry and Palauan daily lives. Their cultural identity is not based on Japanese blood but on the complications of their social conditions under colonialism. As Poyer, Falgout, and Craucci point out (Poyer et al. 2004: 308), the successive administrations of Germany, Japan, and the United States, as well as the Pacific War, forced Micronesians to reflect on their identities from global perspectives.

Conclusion Palauans of Japanese ancestry were able to be absorbed into Palauan society. They might disappear in the near future. UK said that most of the aims of the Palau Sakura Kai have already been achieved. Palauans of Japanese ancestry have overcome various difficulties in the post-war era and established solid positions in Palau up to now. Since most of the core members of the association have

130  Shingo IITAKA aged and died, the membership has greatly declined. Only a few descendants of former members, such as AD’s grandson and MR’s daughter, are active members. Japanese visitors who came to Palau for memorial services have also grown older or died, though a few of their descendants keep visiting Palau (Iitaka 2015). The members have stopped meeting regularly and have also outsourced the maintenance of the Japanese Cemetery to Koror State. However, Palauans might keep remembering the genealogy of those who were born to Palauan mothers and Japanese fathers. As mentioned earlier, there were peculiar cases of burials regarding Palauans of Japanese ancestry at the Japanese Cemetery. Given the fact that Palauans are concerned about where the bodies should be buried in order to make the ambivalent identities of the deceased distinct, the reification of their Japanese descent at the last minute holds crucial meanings. Attention should be paid in the future to the extent to which Palauans hold their Japanese ancestry in esteem.14 The predicament faced by Palauans of Japanese ancestry has never been recognised in post-war Japan. Instead, Japanese citizens have reduced them to the status of pro-Japanese or Japanophiles. Japanese visitors have rejoiced at the opportunity to communicate in Japanese and share their recollections of the pre-war era with Palauans of Japanese ancestry, who have extended their hospitality since the late 1960s. They were recognised as sympathisers of Japan, or even as those who had ‘Japanese spirit’, as Funasaka described in his report (NSK 1968: 8). However, these Japanese visitors were blind to the turbulence which Palauans of Japanese ancestry experienced after the war. This pro-Japanese discourse also extended to other Palauans. It is widely stated in contemporary Japan that Palau is a pro-Japanese country, while some amateur writers and right-wingers have even insisted that Palauans were grateful to the Japanese administration (e.g. Arai 2015). In fact, Palauans of Japanese ancestry have recollected the Japanese administration era with positive and nostalgic reflections. FM recalled that there had been various development projects under the Japanese administration, such as agriculture, fishery, copra production, phosphate mining, bauxite mining, trochus-collecting, charcoal making, wood-gathering, and so on. While these projects were not planned for Micronesians, but for the Empire of Japan, FM put forward a nostalgic narrative claiming that Palau was in a state of glory at that time. Older generations in Palau often recall the Japanese administration era in similar ways, but these statements were not expressions of pro-Japanese or Japanophile sentiment but rather reinterpretations of pre-war experiences in post-war era (cf. Mita 2009). Palauans of Japanese ancestry felt more nostalgia for the Japanese administration era than other Palauans, because they were seriously affected by the conversion from the Japanese to the US administration. Palauans of Japanese ancestry were situated in the social space between Japanese ancestry and their Palauan lives in the post-war era. The establishment of the Palau Sakura Kai was a consequence of their predicament. In spite of the nostalgic narratives about the Japanese administration era, which were often regarded as a symptom of Japanophilia, these Palauans of Japanese ancestry

Palau Sakura Kai  131 never forgot the issues of colonialism and imperialism (cf. Cole 2001). Rather, they have been forced to reflect on their ambivalent positionality, when they are discriminated against by other Palauans or are labelled as pro-Japanese by Japanese visitors. They are thus still haunted by the Empire of Japan (cf. Stoler 2006; Salesa 2006).

Acknowledgements I am grateful to the members of Palau Sakura Kai, who kindly and patiently took the time to be interviewed. My fieldwork in Palau was funded by the Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (Project No. 08J02475, Organiser: Shingo Iitaka/ Project No. 22251012, Organiser: Yuko Mio/ Project No. 24720393, Organiser: Shingo Iitaka).

Notes 1 Since Japanese Micronesia was not a foreign country but an overseas territory of the Great Empire of Japan, emigrants to the islands were not registered on the name list submitted to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan. They were not foreign immigrants, but here the term ‘immigrant’ is used to describe those who settled in Micronesia under the Japanese administration. 2 Terms of office of presidents are as follows: Tosiwo Nakayama (1979–1987), Amata Kabua (1979–1996), and Kuniwo Nakamura (1993–2001). Amata Kabua deceased in 1996 while in office. Tosiwo Nakayama deceased in 2007. Kuniwo Nakamura deceased in 2020. 3 On the contrary, few mixed-blood children were born to Micronesian males and Japanese females. This was because the South Seas Government was averse to their intimate contact. Kobayashi has pointed out that there were four such couples in Saipan and one in Palau. In all of these cases, the Micronesian men met Japanese women during their extended stays in Japan either to study or receive medical treatment (Koba­ yashi 2007: 90–91). 4 This document is from the Yanaihara Tadao’s Archives at the University of the Ryukyus. Yanaihara, as a prominent scholar of colonial studies, conducted a field investigation of Micronesia and published the Pacific Islands under Japanese Mandate in 1935 (Yanaihara 1935). Digital images of the archives are open to the public on the following website. http://manwe.lib.u-ryukyu.ac.jp/yanaihara/ (accessed on 30 November 2020). 5 During the last years of the Japanese administration, Chamorro on the Mariana Islands were represented as those who were opening their eyes as Japanese citizens and wished to be naturalised as Japanese subjects (Noguchi 1941: 32–37). 6 After the 1960s, the US administration developed, as a national strategy under the Cold War structure, administrative polices, such as inducing democracy, stationing Peace Corps, building urban infrastructure, and sending Micronesian students to the United States to study (Hanlon 1998). 7 In the Republic of the Marshall Islands, the Marshall Nikkeijin Kai (Association of the Marshallese of Japanese Ancestry) has supported Japanese visitors who came to collect the remains of fallen Japanese soldiers. See Kurosaki (2007). 8 The author conducted an interview with UK on Palau on 6 November 2008. The author also interviewed him on 21 October 2009 during his term as ambassador to Japan. UK continues to lead the Palau Sakura Kai today.

132  Shingo IITAKA 9 The author conducted a series of interviews with FM (1931–, female), a member of the Palau Sakura Kai, from October to November 2008. See the following section for the details of her life history. 10 According to UK, there was only one Japanese member, a trading merchant, when the association was established. 11 The Palau Association in Okinawa dissolved in October 2007, because of the aging of members, but those returnees from Micronesia occasionally organised memorial tours to Micronesia (Iitaka 2015). 12 Micronesian political leaders of Japanese ancestry, such as Tosiwo Nakayama and Kuniwo Nakamura, who were actively involved in constructing new nation states, developed better reputations in their society. In addition, talented Micronesian businessmen include those who have Japanese ancestry. Chen points out that this is because lack of paternal ties released them from obligatory exchanges among kin groups, allowing them to accumulate capital (Chen 2012). 13 In general, cultural identities in the Pacific are not automatically determined by blood lines or places of birth but flexibly negotiated through environments surrounding the person and the person’s behaviour (Linnekin and Poyer 1990). 14 Mori Koben, originally from Kochi prefecture in Japan, and his descendants established a large family in the Chuuk Islands (Truk Islands in the Japanese era). The family produced Manny Mori, the former president of the Federated States of Micronesia, and great-grand child of Mori Koben. Komatsu points out that the Mori family introduced the patrilineal principle in the local matrilineal society. They have recognised themselves as descendants of Mori Koben, a pioneer immigrant from Japan (Komatsu 2001).

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Part III

Objects and memories

7 Significance of heritage in decolonisation Taiwanese colonial experiences and their appropriation of Japan’s imperial-era buildings Hisahiko KAMIZURU Introduction Certification of cultural heritage is a major locus for the emergence of historical consciousness and national identity, since certification is influenced by government policy and national sentiment. Heritage is a cultural process that engages with acts of remembering that work to create ways to understand and engage with the present (Smith 2006: 44); the heritage site aims to legitimise a specific social reality dividing people into ‘we’ who agree regarding certification and ‘they’ who don’t agree (Poria and Ashworth 2009: 522). Therefore, we can understand how inhabitants of a former colony recognise buildings from the Japanese colonial period through their heritage value. Japanese colonial period buildings in Taiwan are currently being actively designated as historical sites and increasingly put to use. Through previous research on the Japanese language, which the Han people were forced to learn during the colonial era, as well as on the buildings of that time, the author sheds light on how they used the colonial legacy as tools for achieving their aims (Kamizuru 2006, 2007). The author has previously also shown how colonial-era culture has blended into Taiwanese society without any particular significance attributed to its Japanese origins. Therefore, the concept of a ‘detachable “Japan” (the colonial experience, its influence, and Japanese cultural elements as remnants of the colonial rule)’ is proposed with a view to describing this phenomenon (Kamizuru 2011). Based on previous research, as described in the following, Japanese colonial-era buildings are classified in four types, based on their present state: externalisation, negative internalisation, positive internalisation, and de-Japanisation. The state of externalisation represents buildings that have been either destroyed or not maintained in Taiwan. Negative internalisation represents those buildings preserved as part of a negative historical narrative. Positive internalisation buildings are those built under Japanese rule and now utilised to differentiate Taiwan from other countries, such as China and South Korea. In de-Japanisation, buildings serve as stylish restaurants or cafés, irrespective of their colonial history. This chapter explores the causes of positive internalisation and de-Japanisation by drawing comparisons with the current situations in South Korea and Nan’yō Guntō (the South

138  Hisahiko KAMIZURU Sea Islands), both of which were also under Japanese rule, and analysing how colonial-era buildings are used today. Japanese colonialism studies on Taiwan are relatively new. In 2002, Yamaji (2002: 30) wrote, ‘scarcely approaching the colonialism that was carried out by Japanese people’ is ‘characteristic of Japanese anthropology’. Research in Taiwan on the theme of Japan’s colonial rule also had to wait until the appearance of political liberalisation during the 1980s (Mio 2009), and interest in the subject only began to flourish in the latter half of the 1990s (Huang 2011). However, contemporary research on colonialism faces two problems. One is that such research may generally be read as a ‘rediscovering the power of Japan’ in its former colony, arguably highlighting the way in which Japan contributed to a former colony’s modernisation and the extent to which it is valued by the former colony. The second problem is that conscientious research on colonies falls into a kind of paradox. One important goal of colonialism studies is to highlight ‘how deeply colonial rule functioned as a concrete thing that dictated the society in question’ (Kasuga 2002: 10). This sometimes leads to ‘re-examining this history and looking critically at the societal and cultural effects that extend to the present from the perspective of the people who suffered under colonial rule’ (Motohashi 2005: x). In other words, colonialism study is important for showing that colonial rule resulted in ethnic conflict in some former colonies; thus, former colonial powers are considered to hold responsibility for current predicaments in former colonies but have turned their backs on the chaos (Kamizuru 2011). The strength of colonial rule to dictate culture and society even up to the present is another problem for scholars. In a discussion of research on colonialism in Africa, Sekine states that research on colonialism faces a paradox. Having started from a perspective of conscientiousness, colonial research risks absolutising the cultural explanatory power of colonialism (Sekine 1997: 308–311). In other words, because of the colonising country’s continuing influence, conscientious research again imprints colonial rule on the formerly colonised. With regard to this problem, the author has previously stated, ‘if research that critically understands colonial rule stops at just pointing out the impacts of colonial powers on contemporary society in former colonies, then this is nothing more than ruling over them again, academically’ (Kamizuru 2006: 188–189). Indeed, the South Korean anthropologist Choe Kilsung, speaking at a symposium, noted ‘Complete liberation from [being] a colony is the very thing that makes colonial rule a thing of the past and is one aim of research on colonial rule.’ His words reveal that, for the once-colonised, colonial rule continues to be something that has to be overcome. To get out of the paradox described earlier, the author has argued for the need to discuss the mechanisms by which former colonial powers continue to have meaning in the present, through political, economic, and cultural factors that connect the past to the present (Kamizuru 2011). This research perspective enables an opening up of the problem of colonial rule to its relationship with other spheres

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  139 and forms of power, without reducing all discussions to colonialism. This view is the starting point for this chapter. Before specifically discussing colonial-era buildings in Taiwan, the author would like to explore how ‘Japan’ continues to exist in Taiwan from the perspectives of hierarchy and proximity. Hierarchy, in this instance, relates to cultural superiority and inferiority. Soon after the start of colonial rule, the Han people of Taiwan, who were part of the Chinese civilisation, tended to look down on Japan, vexing the Japanese in their process of ruling over them. Japan had been nothing more than a peripheral state on the margins of the Chinese civilisation. Horie investigated how ‘Japan’ manifested two opposite characteristics in this regard: while Japanisation was a tool for transmitting modern civilisation, Japan’s position was inferior within the context of the Chinese civilisation. In this way, Taiwanese people did not always recognise that the Japan held a superior position during its period of colonial rule (Horie 2006). Proximity relates to cultural similarity and difference. With regard to cultural closeness, Ueno, whose research explores the experiences of women who attended female junior high school (高等女学校   kōtōjogakkō) in the colonial period, states that Taiwan and Japan share many traditional ethical values and that the ‘woman’s virtue’ education in kōtōjogakkō was a value shared by both countries (Ueno 2011: 158–160). A Japanese Shinto shrine remains in Taiwan’s Taoyuan and is used today as a shrine for those who died in the founding of the Republic of China (ROC), the Second Sino-Japanese War, and other conflicts. An explanation at the shrine states that it has remained in place because it is a ‘Japanese-style structure that imitated Tang China’. Japan is understood as both a part and imitator of Chinese civilisation. This is a further example of how Japan is seen as culturally close to Taiwan. Aspects of cultural distance include negative and positive understandings of ‘Japan’. For example, from the perspective of the ROC, Imperial Rescript on Education (教育勅語 kyōikuchokugo), the Japanese language, shrine worship, and other values forced upon its people in an effort to turn them into imperial Japanese subjects should be rejected, as devices that destroyed traditional Taiwanese culture and coerced the people of Taiwan (本島人 hontōjin) into becoming Japanese. However, for the generation educated under the kyōikuchokugo, the Rescript became a way to identify with the Japanese spirit (日本精神 Nipponseishin). The Samurai spirit and diligence are superimposed on the concept of Nipponseishin and Nipponseishin became a tool for discussing the loftiness of their own hontōjin spirit. The introduction of modern systems is an example of the way in which something mediating modernity was generally understood as positive. In the textbook Knowing Taiwan (認識台湾), used from the late 1990s to the early 2000s in Taiwan, there are statements attributing concepts such as hygiene, modern schooling, and the spread of the modern concept of time in Taiwanese society to the modernisation that came about under Japanese colonial rule (National Institute for Compilation and Translation 1997).

140  Hisahiko KAMIZURU In this way, Taiwan’s ‘Japan’ exists in a place where hierarchy and proximity vis-à-vis the Chinese civilisation intertwine. Some of the buildings from the Japanese colonial period that will be discussed in this chapter have been recognised as historical sites. However, they have not always been seen as constitutive elements of Taiwan’s history. Therefore, it is crucial to investigate the way in which the colonial-era buildings have been estimated in the post-war context and constructed ‘Japan’ in Taiwan. This chapter, through such investigation, shows that these buildings from the Japanese era cannot merely be given one single meaning and that the Han people of Taiwan1 have diverse perspectives on the present-day remains of Japanese colonial rule.

Transformations in Japanese colonial-era buildings Before the 1980s, buildings from Japan’s colonial era were not recognised as historical sites. After World War II, these buildings were seen as remnants of colonial rule, and many were demolished (Matsuda 2013). Buildings that were not destroyed were either used to house government offices and government agencies or neglected. In 1982, the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act came into force. As stipulated in, for example, Historical Sites in Taiwan and Fujian, Taiwan’s historical sites consisted of ‘replicas’ patterned on China’s historical sites (Executive Yuan’s Council for Cultural Affairs 1985) and Japanese-style buildings and modern buildings that did not fall into this category. However, minutes from a meeting of the Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affairs in 2004, entitled Cultural Heritage Preservation Act 30th Forum, state that historical sites represent diverse values and are part of the ‘collective memory’ (Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affair 2004). From the second half of the 1990s onwards, buildings from the Japanese colonial period were designated, one after another, as historical sites. This change in status coincided with the election of Lee Teng-hui, the first benshengren (i.e. persons or descendants of persons who moved to Taiwan before the end of the Japanese colonial period) elected as the president of the ROC. Behind the social condition was the creation of Taiwanese, rather than Chinese political, cultural, and educational structures in the 1990s (本土化 Bentuhua). Originally, the Kuomingtang (KMT), when ruling Taiwan, had regarded Taiwan as part of China, insisting that ROC territory covered all of China. The KMT’s political system was based on this idea. Specifically, following the Declaration of the Martial Law in Taiwan Province in 1949, members of the legislative body (Yuan) elected prior to 1945 held their seats until 1991. The people of Taiwan were forced to learn Chinese language and geography, and identify themselves as Chinese under the KMT rule. However, in Bentuhua, the weight of historical consciousness shifted from the historical perspective of ROC or the KMT battling against Japan in mainland China to the perspective of Taiwan and the benshengren. In Bentuhua, buildings from the Japanese colonial era were turned into objects mediating the narrative of Taiwan’s history. Historical sites from the Japanese

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  141 colonial period were important tools for demonstrating that Taiwan differed from China and resisted the KMT view of history. People saw these buildings as part of their own history. In other words, whether Japan’s colonial rule left positive or negative legacy was not the issue. Rather, these sites were presented as part of an experience unique to Taiwan, which did not extend to China (Kamizuru 2007). Such an understanding of buildings from the Japanese colonial era was not allowed from the ROC’s historical perspective. The head of Taipei’s Department of Cultural Affairs at the beginning of 2000s, a waishengren (i.e. persons or descendants of persons who came to Taiwan after World War II with the KMT) was critical, stating, ‘Having one hundred historical sites in Taipei, which only has one hundred years of history, is a lot.’ One intellectual, also a waishengren, stated that the designation was becoming easier. Here we can see a backlash against recognising colonial-era buildings as historical sites. From 2000 onwards, another element came into play: the coordination of historical sites with economic activity and tourism. In 2000, the Cultural Heritage Preservation Law was revised, enabling the re-use of historical sites. These buildings could now be used as museums, cafés, and other cultural facilities. Furthermore, in 1999, the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) released the International Cultural Tourism Charter, calling for the promotion of economic effects by linking tourism and culture. The Council for Cultural Affairs, a Taiwanese government agency, also supported the promotion of cultural tourism. Part of the groundwork for the transformation of historical sites into spaces of consumption for comfort and pleasure in Taiwan was based on the European model. In 2001, following Europe’s example, the Taiwanese government established September 15th and 16th as national days for the spread of awareness of historical sites. Meanwhile, in Japan, Taiwan’s erstwhile coloniser, there are two perspectives regarding the changes being made to buildings in Taiwan from the Japanese colonial era. For some, these buildings are an image of an old-world, nostalgic Taiwan. Many books have been published, containing photographs of these preserved buildings. Examples of these books include Katakura Yoshifumi’s The ‘Japan’ Living in Taiwan (台湾に生きている「日本」) and Japanese Railroad Heritage Remaining in Taiwan (台湾に残る日本鉄道遺産). These show that Taiwan is being consumed by reminiscing about a ‘Japan’ of the past imperial era. These historic buildings are also sites visited by Japanese tourists to Taiwan. Wikitravel, in a typical example, describes Taiwanese tourist sites as ‘the Japanese era that remains in Taiwan’. Lin, discussing the view of ‘Japan’ in Taiwan, states that the government and the people of both Japan and Taiwan have together created a nostalgic image of Taiwan (Lin 2011). The other perspective is a sense of nostalgia on the part of Japanese who had lived in Taiwan. Since the 1980s, many such people have revisited Taiwan and remembered the lives they spent there. When they interact with international students from Taiwan, they reminisce on the old cityscape, asking what a certain corner in Taipei was called during their time in the country. This is qualitatively different from the case of Japanese who have never lived in Taiwan but

142  Hisahiko KAMIZURU nevertheless seek the memory of an old ‘Japan’ in Taiwan. There is a feeling, beyond nostalgia, that Taiwan belonged to them. Buildings in Taiwan from the Japanese colonial era are, from the perspective of the waishengren, who fought the Japanese army in China, objects to be rejected and destroyed. For the benshengren, who promote Bentuhua, these buildings are part of their history. There are also those who simply enjoy these places irrespective of their colonial history. In terms of the variety of Japanese perspectives, there is a combination of a viewpoint that discovers Japan’s past in Taiwan, an attitude of enjoying these buildings as sites of tourist consumption, and a feeling of ownership towards them. In this way, buildings from the Japanese colonial era are sites where multiple perspectives and awareness overlap.

Buildings from the Japanese colonial period as historical sites Mun, who researches modern South Korean architecture, argues that there are three positions regarding South Korea’s modern cultural heritage (Mun 2011). The first is a nationalist position holding that heritage from the colonial period symbolises occupation and that objects containing elements of the Japanese Empire should be completely wiped out. The second is a historicist position maintaining that colonial history should be recognised as part of the history of one’s country and regarded as a symbol of the past. The third is a position of cultural consumption, focused on the restoration of heritage, turning it into tourist sites, and contributing to the local economy. Mun’s three-part typology, however, is inadequate in terms of actually understanding buildings from the colonial period in Taiwan. The author would, instead, like to refine the trichotomy of nationalism, historicism, and the culture of consumption and use the concepts of externalisation, negative internalisation, positive internalisation, and de-Japanisation. The destruction and neglect of buildings from the colonial era is an act of the highest form of externalisation. Next, the historicist position of seeing these buildings as part of one’s history and turning them into historical sites may be divided into ‘negative internalisation’ and ‘positive internalisation’. In both cases, the Japanese origin of these buildings is an indispensable element, entirely integrated into one’s own history. However, negative internalisation entails an ambivalent understanding that the Japanese administration’s constructing these buildings holds back modernisation. Although recognising them as part of one’s own history, it rejects the buildings at the fore. On the other hand, there is positive internalisation, which appropriates the legacy of Japanese administration, attempting to use colonial buildings to emphasise Taiwan’s uniqueness. Finally, there is de-Japanisation, corresponding to the culture of consumption. By viewing colonial-era buildings as stylish examples of beautiful wooden architecture, their Japanese origins are not of concern to those consuming them. Although the Japanese origins of the buildings are important for both negative and positive internalisation, regardless of whether these origins are rejected or affirmed, they are irrelevant from a de-Japanisation perspective. The Japanese

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  143 objects are part of what constitutes the stylish and beautiful; in other words, they are reduced to an aesthetic value, and their historical meaning is disregarded. A formerly external and alien ‘Japan’ dissolves into daily life, having shed its origins. This is referred to as ‘de-Japanisation’. Keeping in mind these concepts, the chapter introduces examples of buildings from the Japanese colonial era, in use today: Figure 7.1 is a Japanese-style house on Qidong Street in Taipei. After World War II, it was used as an official residence, but it no longer serves that purpose. It currently awaits maintenance work. This is an example of a neglected building. If these buildings are not designated as historical sites or historical buildings, they will eventually be demolished. Figure 7.2 is the Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall in Taipei. During the colonial era, it was a police station. It is presented as a place where those who resisted Japanese rule were detained. This is an example of negative internalisation. Figure 7.3 is a Japanese-era Public Bathhouse in Xinbeitou, on the outskirts of Taipei. It is now home to Beitou Hot Spring Museum. This building was neglected until the first half of the 1990s, when it was designated as a historical site and restored. The author once asked a university student volunteer, ‘If Taiwan experienced hard times under the Japanese administration, why does it preserve the

Figure 7.1  A Japanese-style House, Taipei, 2012. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

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Figure 7.2  Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall, Taipei, 2019. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

Figure 7.3  Beitou Hot Spring Museum, Taipei, 2006. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  145 Japanese colonial building?’ The student answered, ‘My grandfather received a Japanese education, and he likes Japan.’ He continued, ‘This building is visible proof of Taiwan’s history.’ He held Japan’s colonial rule to be part of his own history, while finding positive aspects in it. This is positive internalisation. Finally, there is de-Japanisation. Figure 7.4 shows a restaurant named Qingtian 76 on Qingtian Street in Taipei. This was the residence of a Taihoku Imperial University professor during the colonial period. After World War II, it was confiscated by the KMT and became the residence of a Taiwan University professor. Unlike the displays of a history of exploitation found in South Korea, the information materials inside the building present the history of the building in a detached manner, stating that the building is managed with the aim of helping the people of Taiwan learn about their own culture. Currently this café-restaurant is a popular location featured in magazines and other publications. Matsuda has analysed the process by which this building was reborn and transformed into a restaurant and how it is now being incorporated into Taiwan’s consumer culture (Matsuda 2013). Matsuda argues that the Japanese colonial origins of the buildings have been stripped in the context of consumer culture. In other words, the building is nothing more than a space to experience a stylish, modern atmosphere. Therefore, it is neither a place where Japan’s colonial rule is condemned nor one whose primary aim is the expression of Taiwan’s historical views.

Figure 7.4  Qingtian 76 Taiwan, Taipei, 2015. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

146  Hisahiko KAMIZURU During research on Qingtian 76, students from a Taipei university visited this restaurant as part of their seminar course, to learn about its history and architecture and to eat. Young couples enjoyed their afternoon tea in its pleasant atmosphere. Qingtian 76 is a multi-layered site in which one can find both de-Japanisation and positive internalisation. In the Taipei City Government’s Wanhua District is a building called the Red House (Figure 7.5) which, during the colonial period, was a market. After World War II, it continued to serve as a market but became dilapidated and fell into disuse over time. In the 1990s, repair work was carried out on the Red House, and today, it is used as a cultural facility. The area surrounding it is a gathering place for sexual minorities, primarily gay men, and contains numerous eating and drinking establishments. On one corner, there is a sex shop catering to the gay clientele. Here, no meaning is given to the area’s history in which a market developed during the Japanese colonial policy. Figure 7.6 shows Taipei Zhongshan Hall. Here, there is a complicated unfolding of negative internalisation, internalisation, and de-Japanisation. Taipei Zhongshan Hall functioned as a public hall during the Japanese colonial period. It was here that the signing ceremony marking Japan’s surrender took place at the end of World War II. Today it is used as a hall. Information on the building is provided in Chinese, English, and Japanese, and the inside is open for public viewing. The hall features stately modern architecture and houses a café and restaurant. In October 2013, an exhibition was held in the hall featuring propaganda art from

Figure 7.5  Red House, Taipei, 2006. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

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Figure 7.6  Zhongshan Hall, Taipei, 2015. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

the anti-Japanese War period, presenting aspects of the movement that resisted Japanese militarism. In one area, where visitors could write their impressions on sticky notes, there were messages from the people from Taiwan, China, and Japan: ‘The Diaoyutai Islands [Senkaku Islands] are China’s’; ‘A new China will be born when the Communist Party ceases to exist’; ‘Bandit Japan: repent with blood!’ ‘Japan is the best’; and so on. Figure 7.7 shows a museum named Taipei Qin Hall which, during the colonial period, was an official residence. The tokonoma alcove (Figure 7.8) remains, and the building is jointly managed and operated as the Taipei Qin Hall by Taipei’s Department of Cultural Affairs and the Chinese Qin Association. The tokonoma contains a qin (a kind of zither), sometimes played by members of the association. A staff member at the Taipei Qin Hall remarked, ‘It has a Japanese atmosphere, and is a beautiful place.’ When the author noted that this building was from the colonial period, the staff member said, ‘Japan’s culture was also China’s culture in the past.’ He pointed to the tokonoma and asked the author what it was. The staff member was aware of the building being from the Japanese colonial period, but this remark shows that he did not have a deep interest or knowledge of Japan’s architecture as colonial legacy.

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Figure 7.7  Taipei Qin Hall, Taipei, 2012. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

The usage of Japanese colonial-era buildings in Taiwan discussed previously are different from those in Nan’yō Guntō and South Korea. In Palau, some colonialera buildings are still used to house government agencies and museums, while others have been turned into tourist sites. Therefore, it is incorrect to say that all buildings have been neglected. However, there are not many buildings like those in Taiwan. The history of the buildings is presented from a US perspective of history and not a Japanese one. Some buildings have been neglected. In Yap, while a US warplane was on display, with explanations of its history, the wreckage of a Japanese warplane was neglected and in an inaccessible location. In South Korea, modern heritage is displayed, including objects from the Japanese colonial period. However, one does not find statements attributing the modernisation of the Korean Peninsula to colonial rule. One South Korean textbook states that colonial rule economically plundered and culturally enslaved the country (Han et al. 2009: 148–153, 222–223). The author’s survey found a similar view of history. Explanatory signs attached to Japanese colonial-era buildings in South Korea often include the phrase ‘South Korea’s first. . . .’ However, unlike Taiwan, the Japanese imperial reign names (元号 gengō) are never presented, since they are remnants of Japanese imperialism.

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Figure 7.8  Tokonoma alcove at the Taipei Qin Hall, Taipei, 2012. Source: Photo by Hisahiko Kamizuru.

Therefore, South Korea cannot be seen as directly incorporating Japanese colonial rule into its history. As can be seen in the dismantling of the GovernorGeneral of Korea building, buildings from Japan’s colonial period are subjected to nationalistic views. Even when they continue to exist, as in the case of the former Seoul City Hall, there is a heated debate between those who hold that they should be demolished as remnants of colonial rule and those who believe that they should be preserved as examples of the history of colonial-era plunder. In this way, only historicist negative internalisation can be found.

150  Hisahiko KAMIZURU How is it that Taiwan’s colonial-era buildings have been maintained the way they have? If we consider the situation in Nan’yō Guntō and South Korea, it is not enough to simply say that it is because colonial-era buildings have been preserved accidentally.

Contradictions contributing to positive internalisation under the ROC regime There are three contradictions on the part of the ROC that constitute major factors leading to the positive internalisation in Taiwan: (1) The ROC is a country that has both lost and won wars, leading to the inception of two opposing states; (2) the emergence of two different subjects of historical memory; and (3) the existence of Japan in two spheres, namely, as a peripheral existence in the sphere of Chinese civilisation and as a model for modernisation. Although the ROC defeated Japan in one war, it lost the Chinese Civil War to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Therefore, the KMT decided to move to the island of Taiwan, where the remnants of the Japan they had defeated continued to exist. The KMT had no choice but to use the buildings and institutions created by Japan. Although buildings lacking use value were neglected or demolished (in other words, externalised), the KMT were unable to entirely refrain from using colonial-era buildings. This dilemma did not exist for the CCP, which had emerged victorious in the Chinese Civil War, meaning that the CCP could effectively demolish any vestiges of Japan. Furthermore, the ROC’s situation as both a victorious and a defeated country led to the birth of two states: The People’s Republic of China (PROC) and the ROC. Neither of these two states, both of which took the Chinese civilisation as their foundation, recognised the other, and each one sought to expand its rule. On both sides, there are reminders of Japanese authority, including colonial architecture, as in the post-war Korean Peninsula. However, it would have been meaningless for South Korea and North Korea to positively internalise ‘Japan’ to differentiate themselves from each other, as they had lived through the same experience, and could not positively internalise the colonial rule of a ‘Japan’ that had plundered them both. Rather, the two Koreas externalised ‘Japan’. A classic illustration of this externalisation was the demolition of the building of the Government-General of Korea. Nan’yō Guntō were ruled under the absolute power of the United States, and Palau did not gain independence until 1994. For this reason, they have not faced their history as Japanese colonies. Priority has been given to their history vis-àvis the United States. Under the rule of the democratic United States, Japan was rejected for its pre-war militarism, and therefore, it was meaningless to maintain the idea that Japan had contributed to the country’s modernisation (Endo 2013: 5–6). The second contradiction on the part of the ROC is the emergence of two subjects with different historical memories. Oppression and discrimination towards the benshengren by the KMT resulted in two historical subjects being produced

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  151 in Taiwan. The first are those who became familiar with Japanese culture and acquired modern values and lifestyles while under Japanese rule, and the second are those who fought against and rejected Japan on the Chinese mainland. After the KMT assumed power, it at first tried to create the ROC, based on the national consciousness of the latter. However, with democratisation taking hold, the idea of Bentuhua spread. This made it possible to assign a meaning to the Japanese colonial period that was different from that assigned by the KMT. This was reflected, in part, in recognition of buildings from Japan’s colonial period as historical sites. Such rivalry between different historical perspectives is not found in the Korean Peninsula or Nan’yō Guntō. It is true that in South Korea, those complicit in colonial rule are criticised for being friendly towards Japan. However, the view that Japanese colonial rule left a positive legacy is not widespread. Similarly, on Nan’yō Guntō, the issue of how to view Japan’s colonial rule did not arise in a way that divided the islands. Finally, the third contradiction is that Japan was both on the fringes of the sphere of Chinese civilisation and, at the same time, as the first country to achieve modernisation in Asia, was a model for a modernised Asia. Although Japan was positioned as inferior in the order of Chinese civilisation, it was also the entry point to modernity. In this way, Japan held an ambivalent position in Taiwan. It retained this position after World War II, against the backdrop of its economic development. Given that the United States and European nations did not believe they had anything to learn from African or Southeast Asian civilisations, this was a unique characteristic in the relationship between Japan and Taiwan, not found between other former colonial rulers and their colonies. This ambivalent dual status is not present in other former colonies of Japan either. On the Korean Peninsula, Japan has been viewed as an inferior country on the periphery of the sphere of Chinese civilisation. Japan, meanwhile, has not looked up to Korean culture in the way that it has looked up to Chinese civilisation. During the post-World War II period, Japan has been a political and economic rival for South Korea and not a model to learn from. In the case of Nan’yō Guntō, Japan perceived the people of Palau as uncivilised ‘natives’, placing them below the people of Taiwan and the Korean Peninsula. With regard to modernisation, the West was more advanced, such that Japan could never have become a model of modernisation or democracy. With these three contradictions, the people of Taiwan were pushed into a situation in which they constantly thought about national identity and their own identities. Therein one finds people who, at one end of the spectrum, based on their memory of fighting against the Japanese, reject and look down upon Japan and view Taiwan as part of China. Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, one also finds those who dislike the post-war KMT government in Taiwan and admire the more modernised Japan, holding that they learned from Nipponseishin and looked down upon China. This situation could not have occurred in either South Korea or Palau. Because of their shared experience of Japanese colonial rule, it would be meaningless for North and South Korea to argue over the significance of Japanese imperialism. In Palau, United States’ democratic governance is

152  Hisahiko KAMIZURU viewed in a positive light, whereas modernisation by Japan (an imitator in terms of democracy) has gradually been forgotten. Taiwan’s broad and conflicting views have been constructed in the context of its multi-layered history. Therefore, in a region lacking these three contradictions, complicated feelings towards Japan would not arise, even under the rule of the ROC. A good example of this is Kinmen, a county comprising 100,000 people in the ROC’s province of Fujian. Kinmen is only two kilometres from Xiamen and was on the front line of the battle with the CCP. The county was not under Japanese colonial rule but was militarily occupied by Japan for approximately eight years during the Second Sino-Japanese War. Although traces of the Japanese army and bitter memories of its occupation still exist, in terms of memories of fighting, battles against the CCP are still vivid in the local people’s minds. Of all the places in China and Taiwan, Kinmen is believed to be the place where ‘Chinese culture’ persists most strongly. The majority of historical sites are from the Tang and Ming dynasties. Only three modern heritage sites exist, none of which are related to Japan. This is because, people in Kinmen are unfamiliar with Japan. Unlike the rest of the ROC, one does not meet elderly people who speak fluent Japanese. Even though stories about the Japanese army are occasionally still heard, people generally do not associate themselves with Japan to articulate their own uniqueness, as happens in the rest of the ROC. Japan is discussed neither positively nor negatively in connection with self-identity. Needless to say, the view of ‘Japan’ in Taiwan is a product of colonial rule. Additionally, as described in this section, the history immediately following the end of colonial rule played a major role in the construction of the view of ‘Japan.’ However, events immediately following the war did not play a role in creating the current view of ‘Japan’ in Taiwan. Other elements have played a role in the positive internalisation and de-Japanisation of ‘Japan’. The following section presents a further exploration of factors contributing to Japan’s positive internalisation and de-Japanisation in Taiwan, in reference to South Korea and Nan’yō Guntō.

Factors contributing to positive internalisation and de-Japanisation A major cause of positive internalisation is a feeling of affinity towards Japan. In contrast, when feeling antipathy towards Japan, one cannot positively internalise ‘Japan’ and use ‘Japan’ as a tool to differentiate oneself from others. According to reports (opinion poll: Taiwan view of Japan) from 2009 to 2012, created by the Japan-Taiwan Exchange Association based in Japan, for each year of the survey, the people of Taiwan felt greater affinity towards Japan than any other country. This figure spanned from 52% of people in 2011 to 38% in 2009. In contrast, the United States and China, nations ranking second and third, were the top choice for only 8% and 5% of people, respectively. This suggests that feelings of affinity towards Japan are pronounced. Palau is certainly considered to be a pro-Japanese. However, as has been made clear by Iitaka (2009) and Mita (2008), this is a problematic assessment. Rather,

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  153 it seems that Japan has over-attributed the presence of a pro-Japanese sentiment in Palau. At the very least, Japan’s presence is not any greater than that of the United States. South Korea and Japan have not always maintained good relations, primarily because of issues regarding the way in which the two nations recognised colonial history. Therefore, in South Korea, ‘Japan’ has not been internalised to differentiate South Korea from other countries. Public opinion surveys reveal a lack of positive feelings towards Japan. For example, according to a survey conducted in the early 2010s by Japan’s NPO Genron and South Korea’s East Asia Institute, approximately 80% of South Koreans have a negative view of Japan, and only approximately 10% a positive one.2 If this is the case, then the issue arises as to how feelings of affinity towards Japan have developed in Taiwan.3 The people of Taiwan clearly have not consistently felt an affinity towards Japan from the pre-war era to the present. Immediately after the war, they were pleased that the Japanese were repatriating. During the 228 incident of 1947, anti-Japanese, pro-Japanese, anti-CCP, and anti-KMT feelings were all mixed together. It is also true that Japan’s severing of diplomatic relations with the ROC resulted in a backlash (Tseng 2011). However, by the time buildings from the Japanese colonial period were recognised as historical sites, feelings of affinity towards Japan had arisen. This affinity came about for political, economic, and historical reasons. One narrative explaining these feelings of affinity is that Japan provided ‘good colonial rule’. However, institutional discrimination against the Han people and the indigenous peoples of Taiwan existed during the colonial period, and even those elderly people with nostalgia for the Japanese colonial period recall experiences of discrimination when attempting to enrol in schools, in job-hunting and in relationships with Japanese people. Therefore, the recognition that pro-Japanese feelings are because of Japan’s positive colonial rule defies reality. Nonetheless, older benshengren more often recall Japan’s contributions to their country, rather than the negative aspects of colonialism. An important element in the formation of feelings of affinity towards Japan was, as Huang (2003, 2015) and He (2000) have made clear, a backlash against the KMT. A typical expression of this backlash was an increase in the number of people speaking Japanese after the KMT came to power. During the 228 incident and the White Terror, the KMT oppressed and executed many benshengren. The use of ‘Japan’ as a tool against the KMT has been interpreted as pro-Japanese, leading to the assessment that the people of Taiwan feel positively about former Japanese rule. At the basis of this are the three contradictions on the part of the ROC. Furthermore, in the latter part of the 20th century, Japan was a source of economic wealth for Taiwan. The Taiwanese economy developed rapidly in the 1970s. Prior to the growth of information technology, which has been indispensable in Taiwan’s economic development, there was considerable collaboration with Japanese companies in the field of light industry. With Japanese language competence serving as a base, Taiwan saw considerable investment from Japan

154  Hisahiko KAMIZURU and the creation of many joint ventures. Huang points out that Taiwan’s economic reliance on Japan in the 1970s, supported by anti-Communist sentiments (based on cooperation with the United States and Japan), was important for the development of current positive feelings towards Japan (Huang 2011). When conducting fieldwork in Taiwan, it is common to meet many people who have acquired wealth as distributors of Japanese products or by working for major Japanese companies. Today, over 25% of Taiwan’s trade is carried out with China, and economic reliance on China is deepening. However, there continue to be a large number of companies affiliated with Japan. This is mainly due to the multiplicity of television commercials from Japanese companies on Taiwanese television. Commercials from South Korean companies such as Samsung are fewer in number. A comparable phenomenon does not exist in South Korea, where national capital has been developed. In Palau, the presence of the United States predominates, although Japanese products such as used cars also have a presence. The issue is not only the quantity of Japanese products and Japanese companies in Taiwan. The high quality of Japanese merchandise on sale in Taiwan is also a factor, as symbolised by the sales pitch ‘日本原装’ (Made in Japan merchandise imported as is). It is a common phenomenon for Taiwanese tourists to visit Japan to buy Japanese medicine. With South Korean and cheap Chinese merchandise spreading to Taiwan, an acquaintance once remarked, said to the author, ‘Japan should make higher-quality things, not the same kind of things. They should not compete on price.’ Japan’s high-quality products contribute to the establishment of the positive Taiwanese view of Japan and contributes to their affinity towards Japan. Japan has a strong cultural influence on Taiwanese youth. After the war, Japanese cultural products were both legally and illegally imported into Taiwan, including magazines, movies, and television shows. Lee (2011) believes that this influx led to the appearance of ‘japano-maniacs (哈日族 harizu)’. Today, a considerable number of magazines and subcultures created by Japanese capital are consumed and adopted in Taiwan. For a time, Japanese television soap operas were broadcast at the same local time as in Japan. At least one cable channel specialised entirely in broadcasting Japanese television programmes, including everything from historical period dramas to variety shows. This situation is very different from Palau, where music and television from the United States dominate. Japanese culture had been banned in South Korea since 1945. Although music and other forms of popular culture were sold illegally, the degree to which they spread was markedly different from their spread in Taiwan.4 Finally, the political sphere should be considered. As Huang points out, from the 1950s onwards, political ties between the United States, Japan, and Taiwan, which existed against a backdrop of anti-Communist sentiment, were crucial to the creation of positive feelings towards Japan (Huang 2011). Even in contemporary Taiwan, where the development of good relations with China is desired, the United States and Japan have political clout. Although Japan and Taiwan do not currently have diplomatic relations, Japan and the United States are the only

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  155 countries that Taiwanese presidential candidates (other than the incumbent president) visit without fail. Today, conflicts over territory in East Asia have intensified. South Korea and Japan are in conflict over the Liancourt Rocks/Takeshima/Dokdo, and China, Taiwan, and Japan are in conflict over the Senkaku/Diaoyudao/Diaoyutai Islands. However, the ROC exercises restraint towards Japan with regard to these issues. The relationship between Japan and Taiwan is stable compared to Japan’s relationship with South Korea, which is always unsteady due to issues involving territory, and conflicting views of history. In Palau, Japan is important as a source of Overseas Cooperation Volunteers and other forms of aid and as a source of trade and tourists. However, Palau now receives most of its aid from Taiwan, with which it has diplomatic relations. Taiwan’s checkbook diplomacy, strongly influenced by resistance to the PROC’s diplomatic posture, has unfolded in Palau, where maintaining diplomatic ties with Taiwan is also regarded as important (Yoshikawa 2011: 25–27). During the author’s fieldwork in Palau, those affiliated with the government stated that Japan’s presence in the country grows weaker every year, whereas that of Taiwan grows stronger. The influence of the United States goes beyond that of either Taiwan or Japan. Together with the Marshall Islands and the Federated States of Micronesia, Palau has entered into the Compact of Free Association, an economic cooperation and security agreement with the United States. For the investigation of ‘Japan’ to be a tool to differentiate Taiwan from China or from the KMT, it is important that Taiwanese people actually utilise ‘Japan’ to resist these forces. They consume US and South Korean culture. Furthermore, Taiwanese businesses work with their US and South Korean counterparts. In this way, Japan is no different from the United States or South Korea. However, Japan outperforms both the United States and South Korea in terms of the number of habitual users of high-quality Made in Japan products, in those adopting its subcultures, and in its economic proximity. A stable political relationship also plays a role in creating feelings of affinity towards Japan. It is precisely in this situation that ‘Japan’ can be used as a tool for Taiwan to distinguish itself from mainland China.

Conclusion To summarise the seven factors that have produced positive internalisation and de-Japanisation found in Taiwan: First, there was substantial colonial rule, without which ‘Japan’ would not have been externalised or internalised. This is clear from the situation in Kinmen, where the period of Japanese occupation was short and its influence limited. Second is the development of feelings of affinity towards Japan based on the close political, economic, and cultural relationships of the two countries. This affinity was an important reason for usage of ‘Japan’ as a tool to distinguish Taiwan from China in Taiwan.

156  Hisahiko KAMIZURU Third is the rivalry between Chinese civilisation and Japanese-style modernity, one of the three aforementioned contradictions. For Japan, Chinese civilisation was something to rise above, and for Taiwan, modernity became a positive element associated with its former relationship with Japan. However, Japan could not be a model for modernisation in Palau because of its more recent rule by the United States. Fourth is the ROC’s status as a country both victorious and defeated in war. This gave the conflict between Chinese civilisation and Japanese modernity a specific meaning in the context of national identity. For Taiwan, this brought about the rule of the KMT as well as a long-term standoff with the PROC. Fifth is the rule of the KMT and its ensuing standoff with the PROC, which lead to Taiwan’s two kinds of subjects: those with a positive perception of the KMT supporting the national political system of the ROC, and those rejecting this rule and supporting the political system of Taiwan. These two subjects, with different views as to what their country should be, either rejected or embraced ‘Japan’. Sixth is the highlighting of modern heritage. Through the adoption of the US/ European perception of modern architecture as heritage, the significance of historical sites in Taiwan changed and general interest in these buildings increased. Finally, and seventh is the spread of a consumer culture, revealed as Taiwan’s economy developed from the 1970s onwards and contributed to de-Japanisation. Prompted by the ideas of ICOMOS, efforts to connect economic growth, culture, and tourism spread around the world, including to Taiwan. In this context, a consumption culture developed, in which ‘Japan’ does not impact Taiwanese perceptions of self or nationhood but, rather, is consumed for stylishness and beauty, having been stripped of its Japanese origins.5 As discussed earlier, the meaning of ‘Japan’ in Taiwan is not monolithic. It is predicated and selected, and it changes in accordance with the demands of Taiwanese society. There is no essential ‘Japan’ that influences Taiwan. Therefore, the fact that the presence of ‘Japan’ is made visible in Taiwan cannot be explained simply by colonial rule. Attempting to explain the present situation in Taiwan without reflecting on its political, economic, and cultural contexts in the post-war era would be to fix the country within its history as a colonised nation. Immobilising Taiwan within this history must be avoided by those who conduct colonial research. To avoid such an essentialisation, this chapter takes into account the cases of other former Japanese colonies. Comparison with these nations is not an attempt to once again view these former colonies through an imperialist prism.6 Rather, as this chapter shows, the comparison of the mechanisms by which those once colonised by the Japanese empire invented their ways of using ‘Japan’ makes it possible to open up the issue of colonial rule to political, economic, and cultural spheres and to deconstruct its overwhelming influence.　

Notes 1 The subject of the indigenous people of Taiwan is beyond the author’s expertise and will, therefore, not feature in this chapter. 2 www.genron-npo.net/world/genre/cat212/post-229.html (accessed 21 May 2014).

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  157 3 The necessary research is not to determine whether Japanese rule was good or bad but to analyse the reasons why Japanese rule is remembered as good or bad. In this respect, Doumanis’s (2005) work is informative. 4 Japanese TV dramas and variety programmes are, to this day, banned in South Korea. 5 In addition, we find the important background aspect of generational turnover, something that is shared with Japan’s former colonies. Unlike European and United States colonies in Africa and elsewhere that obtained independence in the 1970s and 1980s, Taiwan and other Japanese colonies were freed from colonial rule in 1945. According to statistics from the ROC, at the end of July 2014, 11.7% of the population was over 65 (www.ris.gov.tw/zh_TW/346,　accessed 9 April 2014). In light of this, it appears that those born before the war now account for less than 10% of the population. Approximately 90% of the population have not experienced colonial rule. This has created a situation in which it is easy for the experience of colonial rule to be historicised and objectified. 6 A pioneering work by Nakao (2000) and Cumings (1999) presents a bird’s eye view of imperial Japan. In addition, Lim’s (2011) analysis of anti-Japanese feelings in Taiwan focuses on Okinawa, the former Manchuria, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea.

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158  Hisahiko KAMIZURU ———. (2011) ‘Analysis of the Way the Taiwanese View Japan (1987–): Complex System at the Crosspoint of Ethnic Group and History’台湾的日本観解析（1987–): 族群與歴 史交錯下的複雑系現象. Reflexion 14: Japan Syndrome in Taiwan 思想14－ 台灣的 日本症候群, pp. 53–98. ———. (2015) ‘Ethnic Diversity, Two-Layered Colonization, and Complex Modern Taiwanese Attitudes towards Japan’. In Andrew D. Morris, ed., Japanese Taiwan: Colonial Rule and its Contested Legacy. London: Bloomsbury. doi.10.5040/9781474220026. ch-007 Iitaka, Shingo 飯髙伸五. (2009) Palauans’ Colonial Experiences under the Japanese Administration: An Approach by Historical Anthropology 旧南洋群島パラオにお ける日本統治経験の歴史人類学的研究. Ph. D. dissertation (Tokyo Metropolitan University). Kamizuru, Hisahiko 上水流久彦. (2006) ‘Japanese Language as a Tool for Making Selfportrait: How to Analyse “Japan” in Taiwan’ 自画像形成の道具としての「日本語」 ―台湾社会の「日本」を如何に考えるか. In Masako Igarashi 五十嵐真子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., ‘Japan’ in the Post-war Taiwan: Continuity, Transformation and Utilization of Colonial Experience 戦後台湾における一. 植民地経験の連 続・変貌・利用. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 187–216. ———. (2007) ‘A Study on Historical Perceptions of Cultural Heritages in Taiwan’ 台湾 の古蹟指定にみる歴史認識に関する一考察. Ajia Shakai Bunka-Kenkyu アジア社 会文化研究, 8:84–109. doi.10.15027/23347 ———. (2011) ‘Which is the Most Important Factor Japan, Chinese or China in Certifications of Heritage of Taipei?’ 台北市古蹟指定にみる日本、中華、中国のせめぎ合 い. In Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾に おける経験ー日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 25–53. Kasuga, Naoki 春日直樹. (2002) ‘Introduction’ 序章. In Naoki Kasuga 春日直樹, ed., Oceania Postcolonial オセアニア・ポストコロニアル. Tokyo: Kokusai shoyin, pp. 9–16. Lee, I-yun 李衣雲. (2011) ‘An Analysis of Hari Phenomenon: History, Memory and Popular Culture’ 解析「哈日現象」：歴史・記憶與大衆文化. Reflexion 14: Japan Syndrome in Taiwan 思想14－台灣的日本症候群, pp. 99–110. Lim, John Chuan-Tiong 林泉忠. (2011) ‘Crazy about Love, or Addicted to Japan? Japanese Sentiment in the Far East’ 哈日、親日、恋日？ 「邊陲東亜」的「日本情結」 . Reflexion 14: Japan Syndrome in Taiwan 思想14－台灣的日本症候群, pp. 139–159. Lin, Hsu-ta 林徐達. (2011) ‘Nostalgia and Cultural Self-representation in Postcolonial Taiwan’ 後殖民台湾的懐旧想像與文化身分操作. Reflexion 14: Japan Syndrome in Taiwan 思想14－台灣的日本症候群, pp. 111–137. Matsuda, Hiroko 松田ヒロ子. (2013) ‘Preservation and Renovation of the Japan’s ImperialEra Buildings in Taiwan-Focusing on Japanese: Style Wooden Houses in Qintian Street, Taipei’ 台湾における日本統治期の遺構の保存と再生－台北市青田街の日本式木 造家屋を中心に. In Shinzo Araragi 蘭信三, ed., Migration after the End of Japanese Empire: Crossing Point between Post Colonialism and Globalism 帝国以後の人の移 動―ポストコロニアリズムとグローバリズムの交錯点. Tokyo: Bensei publishing Inc, pp. 833–865. Mio, Yuko 三尾裕子. (2009) ‘Anthropological Study on Taiwan during the Last 10 Years’ 台湾研究のこの10年：台湾を対象とした人類学の発展過程. Nihon Taiwan Gakkaiho 日本台湾学会報, 11:57–65. Mita, Maki 三田牧. (2008) ‘Remembering Colonial Experiences: Palauan Elders’ Stories of Being Educated as Imperial People, and Being Discriminated Against as Islanders’

Significance of heritage in decolonisation  159 想起される植民地経験―「島民」と「皇民」をめぐるパラオ人の語り. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology 国立民族学博物館研究報告, 33(1):81–133. doi.10.15021/00003942 Motohashi, Tetsuya 本橋哲也. (2005) Postcolonialism ポストコロニアリズム. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Mun, Eun 문예은. (2011) ‘The Competition Analysis of Discourse on the Modern Cultural Heritage: Focused on the Case of Gunsan City’ 대문화유산을 둘러싼 담론의 경쟁 양 상 분석― 군산시를 중심으로. Journal of Local History and Culture 지방사와 지방 문화, 14(2):265–304. doi.10.9715/KILA.2018.46.4.021 Nakao, Katsumi, ed. 中生勝美編. (2000) Prospect of Colonial Anthropology 植民地人類 学の展望. Tokyo: Fukyosha. National Institute for Compilation and Translation 国立編訳館. (1997) Knowing Taiwan 認識台湾. Taipei: National Institute for Compilation and Translation. Poria, Yaniv and Gregory Ashworth. (2009) ‘Heritage Tourism: Current Resource for Conflict.’ Annals of Tourism Research, 36(3):522–525. doi.10.1016/j.annals.2009.03.003 Sekine, Yasumasa 関根康正. (1997) ‘Where did Untouchable Go? Colonialism and Culture in Anthropology of South Asia’「不可触民」はどこに行ったのか？ ―南ア ジア人類学における「植民地主義と文化」という問題. In Shinji Yamashita 山下 晋司 and Matori Yamamoto 山本真鳥, eds., Colonialism and Culture Perspective of Anthropology 植民地主義と文化　人類学のパースペクティブ. Tokyo: Shinyosha, pp. 307–347. Smith, Laurajane. (2006) Uses of Heritage. London and New York: Routledge. Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affairs 台北市政府文化局. (2004) Cultural Heritage Preservation Act 30th Forum 審古査蹟―文化資産保存三十年論壇. Taipei: Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affairs. Tseng, Jian-min 曽建民. (2011) ‘Historical Aspects of Japanese Sentiment in Taiwan: From a Perspective of Politics and Economy’ 台湾日本情結的歴史諸相：一個政治 経済学的視角 Reflexion Thought 14: Japan Syndrome in Taiwan 思想14―　台灣的 日本症候群, 14: pp. 39–52. Ueno, Hiroko 植野弘子. (2011) ‘Daily Life in Taiwan and “Japanese Education”: A Case Study of Homes of Students of Kōtōjogakkō’ 台湾の日常と「日本教育」一高等女 学校生の家庭から. In Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾における経験一日本認識の生成・変容・断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 141–184. Yamaji, Katsuhiko 山路勝彦. (2002) ‘Anthropology and Colonialism’ 人類学と植民地 主義. In Katsuhiko Yamaji 山路勝彦 and Masakazu Tanaka 田中雅一, eds., Colonialism and Anthropology 植民地主義と人類学. Nishinomiya: K.G. University Press, pp. 3–42. Yoshikawa, Naonori 吉川尚徳. (2011) ‘Chinese Engagement to Oceanic Island Countries: Strategic Impacts and Way ahead for Existing Powers’ 中国の南太平洋島嶼諸国に対 する関与の動向一.その戦略的影響と対応一. Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force Staff College Review 海幹校戦略研究, 1(1):23–48.

8 Two monuments in Majuro Atoll and economic development A case study of the East Pacific monument to the war dead and the Seion-Kinenhi Takehiro KUROSAKI Introduction Two monuments were erected by the Government of Japan on the Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands: The East Pacific Monument to the War Dead (東太平洋 戦没者の碑; hereinafter, the Cenotaph for the War Dead, CWD) and The SeionKinenhi (聖恩紀念碑; hereinafter, the Monument to Imperial Graciousness, MIG). The CWD, which stands in the centre of Majuro Atoll, was built by the Japanese government in 1984 to commemorate the victims of World War Ⅱ. The MIG stands at the centre of the west side of the Majuro Atoll and was built by the Imperial Japanese Army in memory of Emperor Taisho (大正天皇, great grandfather of the current emperor) for his support of the people of the Majuro Atoll in the wake of damage caused by the 1918 typhoon. The author has conducted an interview survey with the inhabitants of Majuro Atoll (ri-Mājro1 in Marshallese), also called iroij, alab, and rijerbal,2 who have the right of land on the Majuro Atoll, to identify their understanding of the two monuments. They were aware that both monuments were erected by the Japanese. However, they were not fully aware of the intention of not only the MIG, whose description is written only in Japanese, notably, in Chinese characters (漢字 kanji), but even the CWD, whose description was written in Japanese, English, and Marshallese. Interestingly, they talked about the construction of both monuments in relation to Japan’s advance into the Marshall Islands, and the economic development of Majuro Atoll, although the two events are not related. For ri-Mājro, the construction of the monuments is a symbol of prosperity and of resistance to the United States and its culture in the post–World War Ⅱ era. Studies on monuments3 have been conducted by various researchers since the 1970s, including Halbwachs (1950) and Nora (1992). In Japan, many historians and sociologists focus on monuments for victims of wars and earthquakes (Imai 2002; NMJH 2003; Kinda 2008; Wakao and Wada 2010). Based on the notion that the construction of a monument aims to convey the effects of a war or historical achievements to future generations, these studies clarify the intentions of the ruler and builder at the time of construction and show the process by which a monument

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  161 entered the official memory of the nation and region. Previous studies on the relationship between a monument and colonial rule, conducted by anthropologists in former colonised areas, investigated the effects of the monument on the social memory of the people who had experienced colonial administration (Sanjek 1993; White 1995; Fabian 2007). They point out that monuments erected by former colonial powers may remain to this day and influence the collective memory of the colonial people. That is, the government of the former colonial power that set up the monument incorporates the purpose and intention of the colonial rule into the act of erection of the monument. As the colonised people face the monument every day, they recognise the purpose and intentions embraced by the sovereign side and respond by either acceptance or rejection. According to the notion of a relationship between the monument and the memory of history described previously, the people in a colony simply accept the thoughts and views of history of the colonial side. However, when observing the views of colonial society regarding the monument, it is not always clear whether they were fully aware of the purpose and intention of the sovereign country. Rather, the receiver typically gives a new meaning to the monument and a unique interpretation of why the monument was erected, while, at the same time, referring to unrelated events and memories. In Taiwan, which experienced Japanese colonial rule, both Han and indigenous peoples use Japanese colonial buildings and monuments as resources to reinterpret their history (Kamizuru 2011; Miyaoka 2017). Compared to the situation in Taiwan, the interpretation of the monument is different in the former Nan’yō Guntō (南洋群島 South Sea Islands), under US administration after Japan’s mandate. The people in Nan’yō Guntō either ignore the historical background of the monument or arbitrarily recognise it and reinterpret it. Based on the points mentioned earlier, this chapter considers the discourse of ri-Mājro regarding the relationship between the construction of those two monuments and the intentions of Japan. First, the author presents in detail the two monuments and the intentions the Japanese side had for building them. The author next describes the relationship between the knowledge and memories of the residents living around the monuments and their views of Japan and the United States through an interview survey. Finally, through the analysis of the discourse confirmed by the interview survey, local inhabitants’ views of Japan are considered, based on the monument and the post-war relationships with the United States; these opinions influence the development of Japan’s view and help examine the characteristics of the evocative power of the monument.

Majuro Atoll and its two monuments About Majuro Atoll The Marshall Islands are composed of two chains of Islands extending north to south: the east side called the Ratak chain, and the west side, the Rālik chain (Figure 8.1). Majuro Atoll (Figure 8.2) is located in the southern part of the Ratak chain and is the capital of the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI). From the

162  Takehiro KUROSAKI

Figure 8.1  Map of the Republic of the Marshall Islands. Source: Produced by Takehiro Kurosaki.

Figure 8.2  Map of Majuro Atoll. Source: Produced by Takehiro Kurosaki.

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  163 time of German colonial rule in the late 19th century up to Japan’s mandate, the political and economic centre of the Marshall Islands was located on the Jaluit Atoll, in the southern part of the Rālik chain. At that time, Majuro Atoll was a remote island in the southern part of the Ratak chain, nothing more than a rural village with a port for accumulating coconuts from the adjacent Arno Atoll. Additionally, until World War II, most of the population was concentrated on the western islands (originally called the Mājro islet in Marshallese, and subsequently the Laura district in English) within the atoll. After World War II, Nan’yō Guntō was occupied by the US Army. In 1947, the United States began its trusteeship over the area named the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands under the United Nations. The US military set up an airfield in the eastern part of Majuro Atoll (called the Darrit-Uliga-Delap, DUD, district) as a transit hub for transportation routes in the Micronesian region, connecting Hawaii to Guam. As a result, the political and economic centre of the Marshall Islands moved from Jaluit Atoll to Majuro Atoll, and the centre of Majuro Atoll from the Laura to the DUD district. Due to US influence, DUD has grown in terms of population and transformed into a modern cityscape, with government offices and business centres. As the capital, Majuro Atoll also became home to many inhabitants originally from remote islands. Some were from Bikini Atoll, forced to relocate due to nuclear tests. Ejit islet, a tiny island within Majuro Atoll, was chosen as one of their forced settlements. The Laura district was affected by this outflow of population and the shops, and other buildings that flourished in the Japanese era were affected, the district becoming a sprawling suburban village. Here, the MIG is the only structure remaining intact since the Japanese era. Throughout RMI, including Majuro Atoll, there are nameplates bearing the flags of RMI and other countries, indicating that, since independence, RMI has received economic aid from developed countries for its infrastructure development. The Hinomaru (Japanese National Flag) is the most common flag and may be found on facilities related to social infrastructure, such as ports and schools. Nameplates with the Japanese flag date mostly from the 1980s to the early 2000s. These events show that the main Japanese influence in Majuro is the ODA project carried out after Japan’s economic development in the post-war era. Although not directly related to the ODA project, the CWD, located in the central part of Majuro Atoll, between the Laura and DUD districts, was constructed by the Japanese government in the Ajeltake district at almost the same time as the project started. CWD There is a semi-circular structure on the Lagoon side of the Ajeltake district. The CWD is located inside this structure and surrounded by a wooden fence (Figure 8.3). The central axis of the monument is oriented towards Japan, and there are circular plazas, car parks, and the national flag towers over it. This area was named Peace Memorial Park by the RMI government, and families come here at weekends for picnics and sports.

164  Takehiro KUROSAKI

Figure 8.3  The East Pacific Monument to the War Dead (CWD), Majuro, 2011. Source: Photo by Takehiro Kurosaki.

The inscription on the front is ‘In memory of all those who sacrificed their lives in the islands and seas of the East Pacific during World War Ⅱ and in dedication to World Peace’, in three languages: Japanese, English, and Marshallese. Generally, the war dead memorial monuments built by the Japanese government worldwide, including the CWD, target not only Japanese but also Americans and locals. The construction of such monuments was a project of the Japanese government, along with ash collection groups, which had a strong meaning for domestic survivors. However, over time, a secondary meaning for the CWD related to memorial services was added, namely a symbol of the friendly relationship between the Japanese and the Marshallese, built in cooperation to facilitate the collection of remains, and memorial services. The bereaved families, such as the Marshall Islands War-Bereaved Families Association of Japan (マーシャル方面遺族 会),4 persistently negotiated with the Japanese and US governments to carry out ash collection and memorial activities. Regarding the preparation of documents concerning the examination of remains and the permission to enter private land, the cooperation of the members of the Marshall Nikkeijin Kai (Association of the Marshallese of Japanese Ancestry),5 residing in Majuro, is essential. As the

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  165 remains were collected and memorial services were held annually, a close and friendly relationship was fostered between the bereaved family group and the Nikkeijin community. The Seion-Kinenhi (MIG) A stone monument, the Seion-Kinenhi, called MIG or the Typhoon Monument, and known to have been erected during the Japanese mandate, stands on a small hill in the Laura district of Majuro Atoll (Figure 8.4). The MIG6 states: On November 8, 1918, a typhoon hit Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands and many houses were washed away by large waves, leaving more than two hundred dead or injured. When His Majesty the Emperor Taisho received a report of the damage of the typhoon, he decided to disburse his personal finances (Emperor’s allowance) for charity on 14 January 1919. The islanders surviving the typhoon thanked His Majesty for his generosity and tolerance towards Marshallese living on a small atoll far away from Japan. In this respect, aiming to teach the islanders about the Japanese notions of piety and remind them of the gratitude of His Majesty,

Figure 8.4 The Seion-Kinenhi (MIG), Majuro, 2011. Source: Photo by Takehiro Kurosaki.

166  Takehiro KUROSAKI I humbly drafted this inscription, which would be seen from generation to generation. 14 November 1919, Rear Admiral Yasujiro Nagata, Senior Fifth Rank, Second Class Order, Third Merit Grade Commanding Officer of Expeditionary Nan’yo Fleet This inscription indicates the typhoon damage, Taisho Emperor’s graciousness, and the need to educate the islanders (Tanahashi 2009: 339–340). Indeed, a typhoon that hit Majuro Atoll in 1918 caused significant damage to the residents (Spoehr 1949). Using the Emperor’s allowance of 5,000 yen (3 million yen in present value), the Japanese government supported the disaster-affected village and developed coconut tree plantations (Rynkiewich 1981). The period before and after the monument was erected is the so-called transitional period of Japan’s policy of colonial administration in the Nan’yō Guntō. Following World War I, which began in August 1914, Japan declared war on Germany and advanced to German Micronesia (Oe 1998; Tanahashi 2009: 334–335). During the eight years from December 1914 until the establishment of the Nan’yoCho (南洋庁 the South Seas Government) in Koror, Palau, the region was under military administration by the Japanese Navy. Japanese rule during the military era was aimed at promoting the assimilation of the local tōmin (島民 islanders) in Japan. In 1918, however, as the management of the Nan’yō Guntō gradually transitioned from military to civil administration, there was no choice but to keep tōmin at the stage where they could understand the benefits rather than assimilate the tōmin as Japanese (Kobayashi 2007; Peattie 1996; Tanahashi 2009: 336). The monument was erected during a transitional period in the educational policy for the local people of the Nan’yō Guntō. MIG was expected by the Japanese government at the time to help tōmin to be aware of the importance of the Emperor.

ri-Mājro’s discourses on the two monuments The Japanese government had clear aims in the construction of each monument. Through construction of the MIG, the Empire of Japan, which had started its mandate rule, intended to make the local tōmin aware of the Emperor’s graciousness and promote Japanese rule. Regarding the CWD, built at the request of the bereaved domestic society, the intention of the Japanese government was to carry out a national policy of mourning the war dead in the Marshall Islands and, additionally, maintain and strengthen the friendly relationship between Japan and RMI through their exchange of memorial services. However, according to this survey, ri-Mājro show that they are not always fully aware of the intentions and purposes of the Japanese government.7 Rather, they view the erection of the monument as a starting point for the prosperity of Majuro Atoll, linking the construction of the monument with the start of Japanese rule. This tendency is strongly seen among the ri-Mājro inhabitants of Laura and Ajeltake districts born at approximately the time of World War Ⅱ.

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  167 The CWD and Japan’s ODA policy Regarding the CWD, the process of erection was discussed in detail with those directly involved in its construction: I heard from the president Amata Kabua (the first president and founder of RMI) that Japan wished to create a memorial in the Ajeltake district. Since the president is iroij, we, alab and rijerbal, did not object. Every year, many Japanese came to RMI to collect bones, and the members of the Marshall Nikkeijin Association supported the work. The President said that the establishment of a memorial would make the Marshallese and Japanese closer friends, and we agreed to it because it was a good thing. (JS, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011) I participated in the unveiling ceremony of the memorial monument. The visitors from Japan and the ri-Mājro prayed together. The Japanese way of praying is different from the way we do it in church, but I understood that it was an important ceremony for the Japanese. After the ceremony, we had a party at the restaurant and enjoyed dancing together and singing Japanese songs. The woman who was crying at the ceremony promised that she would come again next year. As promised, she came back to Majuro with her daughter. Every year I meet them, I feel they are like a family. (TC, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011) The text of the CWD was also written in English and Marshallese, to enable the ri-Mājro to better understand why it was erected. Many ri-Mājro were members of the Marshall Nikkeijin Association and understood the importance of supporting Japan’s memorial service. As such, it was easy for them to understand that the construction of the CWD improved relationships between Japan and RMI. However, the period of completion of the monument gave the CWD a new meaning: Since the monument was completed, the number of Japanese visiting Majuro increased, not only for the memorial services but also businesspeople from construction companies. At the same time, new buildings and office were built in RMI one after another. The town was getting new and modern. The older people said, ‘It was triggered by the construction of the monument and Japan returned back to Majuro’. (JS, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011) When Japan starts a new project, builders from Japan must visit Peace Memorial Park and pray at the monument. Also, when the ODA project to

168  Takehiro KUROSAKI improve the road in Majuro was being carried out, the construction company maintained the park at its own expense. Some of his bad friends said, ‘Maybe that monument means that Japan would invade the Marshall Islands again’. Thanks to Japan’s ODA project, a road has been connected to the Laura district. If domestic economy is improving, isn’t it better? (TC, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011) From these quoted testimonies, the ri-Mājro saw the construction of CWD as linked to the development of Majuro Atoll during the Japanese rule. However, these discourses do not relate to the actual situation in Japan or that of Japanese people. The Japanese were overly idealised. Until the 1980s, when the CWD was erected on the Marshall Islands, the Marshallese had only rare opportunities to meet Japanese. It is inferred that this ‘blank period’ led to the excessive idealisation of Japan and the Japanese. After World War II, the Marshall Islands came under US administration as a United Nations Trust territory. During this period, buildings from the Japanese era were either destroyed or left unattended. All Japanese were forced to repatriate after the war and were unable to return to the Marshall Islands for more than 20 years.8 It was therefore difficult for the Marshallese to obtain new information about post-war Japan. As a result, the view of Japan was preserved for the Marshallese through childhood memories. From the late 1970s, Japan, which had recovered from the war damage and was an economic superpower, began to actively engage in the Pacific Islands through negotiations over fishery resources and ODA projects. The Pacific Islands region, including the Marshall Islands, is a treasure trove of fishery resources, centring on skipjack and tuna, and is recognised as an important region for food security for Japan. Based on the Fisheries Agreement, the Japanese government implemented marine grant aid to the Marshall Islands for developing port facilities. Additionally, after RMI became independent, since the 1990s, and through grant aid, Japan has actively promoted the development of social infrastructure, such as roads. Significant in terms of Japan’s implementation of ODA projects is the reaction of the United States, the largest donors to RMI, and their people. Compared to the United States, accounting for around 50% of the economic assistance to RMI, Japan’s support is less than half. However, since ODA from the United States is mainly financial support, such as civil service salaries, the amount of tangible support is extremely small. An American living in RMI for over 30 years expressed the irony of it: If I  asked an official of the RMI government ‘Which country made that road?’, he said, ‘Japan’. When I asked, ‘Which country made this school?’, he answered, ‘Japan, too’. When I asked, ‘What did the United States do?’ he replied, ‘Our salary’. If this continues, someday everything will be made in Japan. (KP, American, owner of construction company Majuro Atoll, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011)

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  169 This quoted statement denotes that Japan was an important donor country for the Marshall Islands through the many ODA projects implemented after World War Ⅱ and Japan’s presence had become so great that even the people of the United States were aware of it. As a result, from the 1980s to the 1990s, ri-Mājro became aware that the memorial service and the ODA project, which had been carried out continuously but were originally unrelated, were linked. They thus saw the construction of the CWD as tied to Japan’s re-expansion to Majuro Atoll. MIG and development of the copra industry Surprisingly, the discourse linking the construction of the monument to the development of Majuro Atoll was confirmed in a survey on MIG, built by the pre-war Japanese Navy administration, although the reason for its construction is quite different from that of the CWD. Regarding the events at the inaugural ceremony of the monument, the following accounts were given by a ri-Mājro grandfather and other relatives: This monument was erected when my father was the same age as my grandson. Japanese brought a big stone and placed it a little lower than it is now. Then, he said, ‘Because the ceremony will be held, gather young people’. He told the young ri-Mājro to worship the monument, and the participants were provided with coconuts and food. Everyone was happy because their lives were hard after being damaged by the typhoon. (EJ, rijerbal of Majuro Atoll, man in his 70s, interviewed on 12 August 2011) According to my father, a typhoon hit Majuro when he was a child, and all coconut trees were destroyed. Houses were washed away, and many people died in the waves. Japanese came and gave my father’s friends food and clothes. Leader of the Japanese said, ‘Clear the fallen trees and plant new ones’. One young ri-Mājro asked, ‘Since a palm tree doesn’t bear fruit for seven years after planting a new tree, what should I do during that time?’ The Japanese replied, ‘Don’t worry. Iroijlaplap (great chief) of Japan will help you’. (JM, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 80s, interviewed on 13 August 2011) As just mentioned, the MIG was erected in 1918, at a time when the Japanese government’s system of controlling the Nan’yō Guntō was transitioning from military administration under the Navy to civil administration. Initially, the Japanese government was considering assimilating the local residents to the Japanese, but from that time onward, it was a policy to merely bring local residents to the stage where they were aware of the grace of the Emperor. This can be seen in the earlier discourse of the ri-Mājro, where the Emperor is equal to Iroijlaplap.

170  Takehiro KUROSAKI Ri-Mājro also recognised that construction of the MIG was related to rescue funds from Japan. However, it was doubtful whether they were fully aware of the true intention of the Japanese government, or appreciated the Emperor’s graciousness, as based on the MIG. As mentioned previously, the inscription on MIG was written in Japanese, notably in Chinese characters. It seems likely that few ri-Mājro understood this inscription. Even those in their 70s or over, who had studied Japanese at kōgakkō (公学校 state primary schools for Micronesians) during the Japanese mandate, were unable to understand it accurately, as they had not learned Chinese characters. In the survey, those asked whether they knew what the MIG inscription said admitted they did not know exactly what it said. Regardless of the content of this inscription, what ri-Mājro pointed out in connection with the MIG is that, in the 1920s, the coconut plantation in the Laura district expanded, the copra (coconut oil) industry in Majuro Atoll began developing, and the village gradually prospered. Majuro recovered from severe typhoon damage, and offices of Japanese copra-trading companies were built. Many ri-Mājro would have planted new trees and, at the same time, witnessed the Majuro Atoll being restored and developed with technical assistance from Japan. My uncle who lived in Jaluit told me that Jabor, the political and economic centre of Jaluit Atoll, was like a festival every day. As a lot of coconuts were exported to Japan and foreign counties, ri-Mājro were getting rich, and the town became lively. I thought that Majuro would someday also look like Jabor. (JM, alab of Majuro Atoll, man in his 80s, interviewed on 13 August 2011) In the 1930s, 20% of the copra consumed in Japan was produced in the Marshall Islands (Yamaguchi 1938: 38). The idea that the Japanese mandate was a good and prosperous period for ri-Mājro is common among those in their 70s and older. Ri-Mājro may have understood at that time that MIG was erected in connection with the reconstruction of Majuro Atoll and the development of the copra industry due to Japan’s advancement. After that, the MIG played a role in recalling a rich era, and many ri-Mājro believed that the MIG erected by the Japanese government brought economic development to Majuro. Even after World War II, the MIG was often a reminder of the development of the copra industry in recollections of the Japanese mandate period. When I was a kid, my dad often brought me to the monument. It’s written in Japanese, so I don’t know what it says on the monument, but my father said that it was about the typhoon that hit Majuro. A long time ago, many Japanese lived in Majuro and helped plant palm trees after the typhoon. After that, a lot of good quality palm fruits were produced, and Majuro became rich. A lot of things came in from the United States after the war, and at first glance it

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  171 seems to have become a rich life, but my father said that the time, when the monument was built and many Japanese lived, was really rich. (TC, alab, man in his 60s, interviewed on 11 August 2011) It may be speculated from this discourse that, among the ri-Mājro, the Japanese era was recognised as a starting point for the development of Majuro Atoll, and the MIG was taken as its symbol and passed on to children even after the war. Memory of Japanese era and criticism of US administration policy A version often heard from ri-Mājro during aural surveys was criticism of the post-war US Marshall Islands policy, and when mentioning the two monuments built by the Japanese government, complaints were added about the influence of American culture after the war. The Japanese were already gone when the war ended, and Americans came to Laura. Many buildings by the Japanese in Jaluit were destroyed by American soldiers. If this monument (MIG) was standing in Jabor, it would have been smashed. It was safe because Americans were more interested in the DUD than in the Laura. (EJ, rijerbal, man in his 70s, interviewed on 12 August 2011) I know that the monument in the Peace Memorial Park was built by the Japanese Government in order to prevent war again. Therefore, I pray with the Japanese who lost their family members and friends in the war. It is common sense that even children know to mourn dead people. But what about young Americans? They come to the park for sports and barbecues. Some even hit the monument with a ball. It’s pitiful that the American and Marshallese youth are playing together. They are just like Americans. (JS, alab, man in his 60s, interviewed on 10 August 2011) These two discourses are related to each monument, respectively. The former account is linked to the fact that the US military advanced to the Marshall Islands after the war and destroyed buildings from the Japanese rule. The latter is focused on criticism of the decadent appearance of Americans and Marshallese youth, engaging in sport in front of a memorial built to commemorate the war. Both accounts mention the Americans coming to the Marshall Islands after the war and destroying or transforming things from the past and the culture of the Marshall Islands. The United States, as an administrative entity changing the culture of the ­Marshall Islands, is also often mentioned in other contexts. Further regarding US

172  Takehiro KUROSAKI policy, ri-Mājro frequently criticise the United States for moving the centre of Majuro Atoll from Laura to DUD, resulting in the decline of Laura. When Americans came here, they arbitrarily named the islet we lived on as ‘Laura’, despite the fact that it has a name given by its ancestors, ‘Mājro’. Then, Americans moved to DUD, transforming the landscape of the atoll, by constructing new roads and airfields there. Along with that, many ri-Mājro moved to the DUD, too, and ‘Mājro’ was becoming obsolete. (EJ, rijerbal, man in his 70s, interviewed on 12 August 2011) Given that the capital of Majuro Atoll was moved from Jaluit after World War Ⅱ, Majuro Atoll may, at first glance, seem to have been developed. However, the centre of development moved to DUD, and the development of the Laura, the centre of Majuro Atoll until the Japanese era, was postponed. The population of Laura district declined to less than before the war. As a result, many ri-Mājro were dissatisfied with the United States. However, although the author asked to hear accounts of the monuments built by Japan, the interviewees systematically criticised the United States, implying that the existence of the United States is widely recognised in ri-Mājro society and that their lives today cannot be considered without the country’s relationship with the United States. For ri-Mājro, the discourse on Japan is based on an idealised view, projected through the filter of the current influence of the United States.

Discussion Analysis of the discourse of ri-Mājro on the two monuments identifies a considerable gap in the meaning of the erection of the monuments between the government of Japan, who ordered erection of the monuments, and the ri-Mājro, who accepted the establishment of the monuments. Moreover, the ri-Mājro added new and unique interpretations for the construction of each monument, which had a completely different meaning from that originally intended by the Japanese government. For the ri-Mājro, both monuments were thus associated with Japan’s economic development aid and the economic development of Majuro Atoll, which happened at the same time as construction, but were unrelated to the original meaning intended by the Japanese government (the graciousness of Emperor Taisho and memorial service for the war dead). Additionally, it is also necessary to consider the reason why residents, talking about monuments erected by the Japanese government, systematically associated them with criticism of the United States. Monuments’ power of evocation beyond historical context Based on this survey, ri-Mājro linked the CWD to Japan’s re-entry into Majuro and the accompanying economic development of Majuro Atoll, while they considered

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  173 that the construction of the MIG led to the development of copra plantations. No material written by pre-war ri-Mājro, however, linked MIG erection with the economic development of Majuro Atoll. The discourse linking MIG to plantation development was based on memories of today’s ri-Mājro and their parents. It is extremely difficult to determine whether ri-Mājro interpretation was the same at the time of MIG’s erection. Rather, significantly, the construction of the monument and Japan’s economic development have been linked over time. In terms of ‘the power of evocation by the monument’, the meanings of the two monuments are linked beyond the original meanings and historical contexts. The ri-Mājro surveyed in this chapter were children during Japanese rule and saw the Marshall Islands become an independent nation after the post-war US rule. The Laura district prospered as the political and economic centre of Majuro Atoll during the Japanese era, declined when the centre moved to the DUD district under US rule, and, after independence, was again promoted by Japanese ODA projects. The CWD was built after World War II as part of Japan’s national policy of memorialising the war dead. However, from the perspective of the ri-Mājro, it was accidentally linked to the regional development of Majuro Atoll through Japan’s ODA project that started subsequently. In other words, the CWD has now become an agency that has stimulated economic development. The interrelationship which ri-Mājro recognise between the construction of a monument and economic development of the region may also be applied to the MIG. After the MIG was erected, the copra industry in Majuro Atoll developed, and regional development progressed, with Japanese trading companies opening branches there. Therefore, as confirmed in the interview survey, it is possible that the ri-Mājro regarded the construction of the MIG as a symbol of economic development at that time. Unfortunately, there is no evidence to prove this. It cannot, therefore, be inferred that the current ri-Mājro recognise MIG as a symbol of prosperity by using the same cognitive framework they utilise for the CWD and economic development through Japan’s ODA projects. The monuments, which remained in particular places, evoke the coherence of present and past meanings. Therefore, it may be construed that ri-Mājro linked post–World War Ⅱ ODA projects with the development of pre-war copra plantations through the existence of monuments as agency. As a result, for today’s ri-Mājro, both monuments have been understood as having the power to bring richness. Monuments as symbols of resistance to the United States and its culture Although a monument is timelessly evocative, it does not completely ignore the original historical context. When people talk about past and present things, their discourse is naturally subject to the historical background they have experienced. As mentioned earlier, even if ri-Mājro find a series of connections, such as

174  Takehiro KUROSAKI ‘construction of a monument = development of Majuro Atoll = symbol of prosperity’, it is impossible to ignore the historical background of the influence of US and Marshallese dissatisfaction with its governing policy. After World War II, the United States established the former Nan’yō Guntō as a United Nations trust territory for military purposes during the Cold War (Boyer 1967). The Marshall Islands were cut off from other countries besides the United States, and Japanese immigrants who lived there were forced to repatriate. The US government provided little assistance for socio-economic infrastructure development in the region and only a minimum amount of food aid to the inhabitants. This administration policy is commonly referred to as the ‘zoo policy’, and the United States had established a policy of securing the region as ‘permanent territory’ (Dorrance 1975). Particularly, in the Marshall Islands, the US military conducted nuclear testing at the Bikini Atoll and Enewetak Atoll from 1946 to 1958, forced some people to relocate from their home islands, and exposed others to radiation. Additionally, a US military base was constructed on the Kwajalein Atoll in Rālik chain for the purpose of missile experiments. As a result, many residents were forced to relocate. These policies have led many Marshallese to create a backlash against the United States (Kiste 1993; Kurosaki 2013: 74). August 2011, when this interview survey was conducted, was a period of stalled diplomatic negotiations between RMI and the United States. Particularly, the issue of compensation for the Bikini Atoll nuclear testing was inconspicuous even at the time of negotiations, and there was considerable distrust of the United States. While the author was conducting the interviews, the residents also blamed the RMI government of that time for showing weakness towards the US government. Marshallese have complained that the United States has destroyed traditional Marshallese culture. In the 1960s, the US government switched to a policy of increasing the involvement of local people and promoting their friendship with the United States in order to suppress their anti-American sentiment. Since 1965, the aid budget for the former Nan’yō Guntō had increased fourfold over 15 years. Additionally, administrators, doctors, and volunteers were sent to strengthen local administrative functions. Specifically, 1,500 volunteers, called the Peace Corps, were despatched to a total population of 80,000 throughout the former Nan’yō Guntō. However, the material culture and American values have led to the destruction of traditional Marshallese culture and values. The influx of frozen and canned foods changed people’s eating habits, resulting in obesity and lifestylerelated diseases. Western education and morals were transmitted by the youth of the Peace Corps and led to the rejection of traditional values by the local youth. As a result, the community’s inherited values, such as respect for the elderly, collapsed, leading youths to decadent lifestyles, often reliant on alcohol and drugs (Marshall 1993; Hezel 1995). The governing policy of the United States and its subsequent influence permeated Majuro Atoll society not only in the form of material culture but also in the form of education and values. The refugees of Bikini Atoll, whose birthplace was used as the site of nuclear testing, now live on Ejit Islet, located on Majuro Atoll.

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  175 As such, it may be said that Majuro Atoll residents are those most sensitive to the influence of the United States. Moreover, as economic development progresses in the urban area of Majuro Atoll, lawsuits such as land contract problems associated with urbanisation will frequently occur. Since relatives fight over land ownership and document exchanges have become more prevalent, older residents began to criticise this social climate as a ‘bad culture’ brought by the United States. While Japan’s ODA projects centred on social infrastructure development and were a form of ‘tangible’ support, the support from the United States was, if anything, ‘intangible’. For this reason, Majuro residents have come to understand the economic aid as ‘the United States transforming society in an intangible manner’ and ‘Japan developing the region in a tangible manner’. However, this composition should not simply be regarded as a positive evaluation of Japan for visibly contributing to regional development. Rather, the existence of Japan is used as criticism and resistance by Majuro citizens to the influence of the United States, which pervades the Marshall society in various ways, not only in terms of the material culture but also in policies and ideas, thus transforming the society.

Conclusion In this chapter, through the analysis of the discourses of the ri-Mājro regarding two monuments erected on Majuro Atoll, the author considered how monument erection was interpreted by the local people and what factors were involved in their interpretations. For the Japanese government, the construction of the first monument included the intention to show the graciousness of the Emperor to the tōmin of the Marshall Islands through aid after typhoon damage. The second monument was erected to commemorate the victims of World War II and to seek peace and friendship at the request of bereaved families. The monuments were constructed at different times and were built for different reasons on the part of the Japanese Emperor and the post-war government, respectively. However, regardless of those intentions, the ri-Mājro linked the construction of both monuments to Japan’s economic development and the economic development of Majuro Atoll, referring to the copra production in pre-war era and Japan’s ODA in post-war era as evidence of development. These two cases are the basis for the following interpretations regarding the relationship between the monuments and their implications for the ri-Mājro. First, monuments have a unique power of evocation beyond historical context. The fact that the start of ODA projects coincided with the erection of the CWD led ri-Mājro to associate it with local development. The ri-Mājro also know that the erection of the MIG coincided with the period of copra industry development on Majuro Atoll, regardless of other historical contexts of the past, including colonialism. However, one must not overlook the close relationship between the discourse of the ri-Mājro regarding the monuments and US administration policy in Micronesia after World War Ⅱ. On Majuro Atoll, Japan’s achievements, such as constructing roads and improving harbours, are clearly tangible. Some ri-Mājro regard Japan’s social infrastructure projects as ‘symbols of prosperity conducted

176  Takehiro KUROSAKI in a tangible way’. In contrast, older ri-Mājro from the Japanese-educated generation (born circa 1938 and earlier) have criticised the American people and government, because the American influence has penetrated the local community in an intangible form, for instance, by the impact of the forced Bikini migration policy and the mass influx of American culture. The positive view of Japan and the admiring narratives on Japan’s administration have been generated partially through the emotional backlash against US policy and administration. However, regarding the discourse of the ri-Mājro in this chapter, it is not possible to completely eliminate the possibility that there exists a bias caused by the Japanese author’s enquiries. The survey was conducted in local official languages, English and Marshallese. However, since the author is Japanese, informants in their late 70s and over explained their experiences in the fluent Japanese they had learned in the Japanese era. If the same questions had been asked by Americans or others, answers might have been different, or even completely opposite. The author believes that contradictory answers are not meaningless, but each should be accepted as a fragmentary fact according to the situation at hand. It is possible that the discourses collected by the author (Majuro resistance or scepticism of the overwhelming cultural influence of the United States) are a reaction to the relationship between the Japanese author and Marshallese informants. The relationship between the interpretation of the monuments and the change in the view of Japan is significant when compared with the case of Taiwanese indigenous people, as Miyaoka (2017) pointed out. This may be similar to what Majuro residents infer regarding the United States, in that it presents a reinterpretation of Paiwan’s own history to mainstream society (Han). However, while Paiwan, considering the multi-layered history they experienced, present their history in a complex way, Majuro residents have, in a sense, ignored or decontextualised their complex past. With regard to the two monuments, historical complexity has been nullified by resistance to the United States and the expectations of prosperity from Japan. Moreover, the historical complexity of Japan and the United States in the Marshall Islands has a similar structure to that of Japan and of China in Taiwan. As Kamizuru (2011) pointed out, Taiwan uses its relationships with Japan to politically oppose the People’s Republic of China (PROC). In other words, the historical composition is the same: the foreign power that came in place of Japan’s last administration was the new and opposed administration. Expectations of Japan’s advance into the Marshall Islands, which increased from the 1980s to the 1990s, are now sharply diminishing and may even be considered the past. Japan’s presence has obviously declined since the 2000s. In the early 2000s, when the author began his research on the Marshall Islands, the number of fluent Japanese-speaking elderly was sharply declining. In the current survey, author asked young ri-Mājro in their 40s or younger about the monuments. However, their responses regarding the relationship with Japan inferred that they did not recognise the existence of two monuments. Instead, it was clear that the American influence was fully rooted in the lifestyle of the youth. Rather, the Taiwan government’s active economic support and the presence of Chinese deeply involved in local business seemed to be more prevalent than that of the Japanese government

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  177 and the Japanese. Whether the two monuments are again seen in a positive light by the local people in connection with economic development, or their existence will be forgotten as the presence of other countries grows, the answer will be given by the future direction of exchanges between Japan and Marshall Islands.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank Mr. Ladie Jack, Mayor of Majuro Atoll Local Government, and many ri-Mājro friends for their support for my field work during my stay in the Majuro Atoll in 2011. This chapter is a rewrite of ‘Two Monuments in Majuro and Economic Development’ (二つの記念碑の建立と経済開発) published in the Japanese Journal of Cultural Anthropology (文化人類学) 86(2): 247–265 (2006). I would also like to express my gratitude to the Japanese Society for Cultural Anthropology for their approval of my work.

Notes 1 All Marshallese, except those naturalised, have rights to any land in the country. Therefore, the Marshallese are aware that they belong to an atoll where they have such land rights. Those who have land rights on Majuro Atoll are called ri-Mājro. In this chapter, unless otherwise noted, ri-Mājro refers to family members with land rights on Majuro Atoll. 2 The Marshall Islands have a small number of iroij (chiefs or aristocrats) and a large number of kajur (commoners). Kajur are also composed of alab (land managers) and rijerbal (workers). Iroij have the right to control land ownership, distribute resources removed from the land, and jurisdiction over disputes over land. Alab have control over land use. Rijerbal have the right to carry out daily operations (e.g. construction, fishing, plant gathering) on the land (Kurosaki 2013). 3 In this chapter, the monument is defined as ‘a thing that was created in order to make a permanent historical, social, or cultural memorial to a person, period, or event’ (Nishi­ yama 2008). It also includes images, inscriptions, and plates that are permanent, unless intentionally removed. 4 The Marshall Islands War-Bereaved Families Association of Japan is a subordinate organisation of the Japan War-Bereaved Families Association (日本遺族会), founded in June 1963. The collection of bones in the Marshall Islands started only after 1969 but, in 1967, instead of the Japanese government, representatives of the association visited the site for local investigation, bone collection, and negotiations for memorial services. 5 In 1979, the Marshall Nikkeijin Kai was formed with the aim of supporting memorial services and promoting exchanges with Japan, led by members of the second generation of Nikkeijin, whose mothers or fathers were Japanese. In 1999, the association was recognised as a non-governmental organisation of the Republic of the Marshall Islands. 6 The text on the monument was translated by the author into English, based on the text decoded and transcribed by Dr. Satoshi Tanahashi, in a survey conducted in the Laura district in 2006 (Tanahashi 2009). 7 The information was originally collected from author’s interviews with local residents in Majuro during a 2006 survey conducted in the Laura district of Majuro Atoll. The information was also reaffirmed by sons of the previous informants in a 2011 survey. 8 After the war, Japanese immigrants residing in Nan’yō Guntō before World War II were forced by the United States to repatriate. Some, however, returned to the Micronesian region in the 1960s, and that we know for sure, one Japanese man returned to Ailinglaplap Atoll in the Marshall Islands in the 1970s.

178  Takehiro KUROSAKI

Bibliography Boyer, David. (1967) ‘Micronesia: The Americanization of Eden’. National Geographic, 131(5):702–744. Dorrance, John C. (1975) Micronesian Crosscurrents and the US Role in the Western Pacific. Washington, DC: National War College. Fabian, Johannes. (2007) Memory against Culture-Argument and Reminders. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Halbwachs, Maurice. (1950) La Mémoire Collective. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Hezel, Francis X.S.J. (1995) Strangers in Their Own Land: A Century of Colonial Rule in the Caroline and Marshall Islands. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Imai, Nobuo 今井信雄. (2002) ‘Death, Modernity and Monuments: The Realities Expressed in the Monuments of the Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake’ 死と近代と記念行 為－阪神・淡路大震災の「モニュメント」によるリアリティ. Japanese Sociological Review 社会学評論, 51(4):412–429. Kamizuru, Hisahiko 上水流久彦. (2011) ‘Which is the Most Important Factor Japan, Chinese or China in Certifications of Heritage of Taipei?’ 台北市古蹟指定にみる日 本、中華、中国のせめぎ合い. In Hiroko Ueno 植野弘子 and Yuko Mio 三尾裕子, eds., Colonial Experience in Taiwan: Generation, Transformation, and Disconnection of Japanese Recognition 台湾における〈植民地〉経験―日本認識の生成・変容・ 断絶. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 25–53. Kinda, Akihiro 金田章裕. (2008) ‘Forward (Special Issue: MONUMENTS: From a Historical Perspective)’ 特集「モニュメント」によせて. Shirin Journal 史林, 91(1):1–3. Kiste, Robert C. (1993) ‘New Political Statuses in American Micronesia’. In Victoria S. Lockwood, Thomas G. Harding and Ben J. Wallace, eds., Contemporary Pacific Societies: Studies in Development and Change. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, pp. 67–80. Kobayashi, Reiko 小林玲子. (2007) ‘Restrictions on Korean Workers from Colonial Korea and Discrimination Issues’ 植民地朝鮮からの朝鮮労働者移入制限と差別問題. In Toyomi Asano 浅野豊美, ed., Nan’yō Guntō seen from Empire and International Order 南洋群島と帝国・国際秩序. Tokyo: Jigakusha Publishing Corporation, pp. 165–198. Kurosaki, Takehiro 黒崎岳大. (2013) Political History of Marshall Islands- U.S. Kwajalein Basement, Nuclear Test of Bikini Atoll and Compact of Free Association マーシャ ル諸島の政治史－米軍基地・ビキニ環礁核実験・自由連合協定. Tokyo: Akashi Shoten. Marshall, Mac. (1993) ‘A Pacific Haze: Alcohol and Drugs in Oceania’. In Victoria S. Lockwood, Thomas G. Harding and Ben J. Wallace, eds., Contemporary Pacific Societies: Studies in Development and Change. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, pp. 260–272. Miyaoka, Maoko 宮岡真央子. (2017) ‘Reinterpretation and Resourcization of Historical Incidents: Negotiations on the “Mudanshe Incident” by Taiwanese Indigenous Paiwan’ 歴史的事件の再解釈と資源化－台湾原住民族パイワンによる＜牡丹社事件＞を めぐる交渉. In Hisahiko Kamizuru 上水流久彦, Kazuyuki Nishimura 西村一之 and Kazuhiro Murakami 村上和弘, eds., Anthropology of ‘Border’ from the Perspectives of Yaeyama and Tsushima 境界の人類学－八重山と対馬に見る「越境」. Tokyo: Fukyosha, pp. 285–320. National Museum of Japanese History (NMJH) 国立歴史民俗博物館, eds. (2003) Memorial to Modern Warfare: the Report on Basic Research on Non-literary Materials 近現 代の戦争に関する記念碑―「非文献資料の基礎的研究」報告書. Chiba: National Museum of Japanese History.

Two monuments in Majuro Atoll  179 Nishiyama, Ryohei 西山良平. (2008) ‘Comment2-Possibility of “Monument” (Special Issue: MONUMENTS: From a Historical Perspective)’ コメント2＜モニュメント＞ の可能性. Shirin Journal 史林, 91(1):264–271. Nora, Pierre. (1998 [1992]) ‘The Era of Communication’ in Realms of Memory. Trans. by Arther Goldhammer. New York: Columbia University Press. Oe, Shinobu 大江志乃夫. (1998) Visit to Japanese Colonies 日本植民地探訪. Tokyo: Shinchosha. Peattie, Mark R. (1996) Colony-The Rise and Fall of the Empire 50 Years 植民地－帝国 50年の興亡. Trans. by Toyomi Asano 浅野豊美. Tokyo: Yomiuri Shimbun. Rynkiewich, Michael. (1981) Trader, Teacher, and Soldiers: An Anthropological Survey of Colonial Era Sites on Majuro Atoll, Marshall Islands (Micronesian Archaeological survey report No.8). Saipan: Historical Preservation Office, Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands. Sanjek, Rojer. (1993) ‘Anthropology’s Hidden Colonialism: Assistants and Their Ethnographers’. Anthropology Today, 9(2):13–18. Spoehr, Alexander. (1949) Majuro: A Village in the Marshall Islands. (Fieldiana: Anthropology, Vol.39). Chicago: Chicago National History Museum. Tanahashi, Satoshi 棚橋訓. (2009) ‘History of Landscape of Imperial Graciousness: A Section of the Military Rule of the Southern Ocean Archipelago in the Marshall Islands’ 聖 恩の景観史－マーシャル諸島に見る軍政期南洋群島統治の一断面. In Masanori Yoshioka 吉岡政徳, ed., Oceania Studies オセアニア学. Kyoto: Kyoto University Press, pp. 334–343. Wakao, Yuji 若尾祐司   and Mitsuhiro Wada 和田光弘, eds. (2010) Place of History-­ Historic Site, Memorial, Memory 歴史の場所－史跡・記念碑・記憶. Kyoto: Minerva Shobo. White, Geoffrey. (1995) ‘M. Remembering Guadalcanal: National Identity and Transnational Memory-Making’. Public Culture, 7:529–555. Yamaguchi, Sei 山口生. (1938) ‘The Value of Yaruto (Jaluit)’ ヤルートの價値. Nan’yō Guntō 南洋群島, 4(5):36–39.

9 Multi-layered realms of memory A diachronic study of the commemoration of the Mudanshe Incident in Taiwan Maoko MIYAOKA Introduction In the contact zone of colonisation, memories vary among subjects and are entangled with each other. The minor ethnic groups marginalised under the colonial system are alienated from the national memory constructed by the majority in the nation-building era. There is often a substantial gap, especially between the memory of the nation-state and that of indigenous peoples, since indigenous peoples’ experiences of ethnocide and cultural genocide are typically located at the core of their identity and historical recognition, while the nation-state never recognises their significance. For example, in Australia, the 26th of January is considered the anniversary of the arrival of the First Fleet by some, but the anniversary of Invasion Day by others. In examining the relationship between indigenous peoples and national history, Shimizu concludes that the form of government in the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples of the United Nations is a federal government over which sovereignty is equally held by the nation-state and indigenous peoples. Shimizu insists that, for the realisation of this vision, a new, national history against ethnocide and cultural genocide of indigenous peoples must be reconstructed (Shimizu 2008). The difficulties of negotiations in constructing new national histories partially depend on the state of colonial experiences and on each nation-state’s memories. This chapter considers the state of historical recognition and memory in Taiwan, a society where decolonisation was implemented by a foreign government, and the majority of the population could not directly participate in decolonisation. In Taiwan, for many years, there has been a gap between historical recognition of the foreign Kuomintang (KMT) government, which carried out the decolonisation of Taiwan through de-Japanisation, and the historical experiences and memories of the Han people in Taiwan since before World War II, and whose autonomy was also suppressed by the KMT.1 Also, the historical experiences and memories of the indigenous peoples of Taiwan are further marginalised and unrecognised by both the KMT and the Han majority.

Multi-layered realms of memory  181 From the late 1980s, with democratisation progressing and increased freedom of expression, the Taiwanese population became more interested in the unique differences between Taiwan and China, and began to discuss the ‘history of Taiwan’ more publicly. However, this history was based mainly on the historical recognition and memory of the Han majority, excluding the memory of indigenous peoples. Thus, the indigenous peoples of Taiwan have been compelled for years by both the state and the Han majority to maintain a historical silence. However, recently, transitional justice has become a policy issue under the Tsai Ing-wen administration, with the Presidential Office for Indigenous Historical Justice and Transitional Justice Committee established in 2016. This committee has discussed the construction of a new national history from the perspectives of indigenous peoples, and the Mudanshe Incident has been important in these discussions. As examined in this chapter, the decades-long memorial practices of the indigenous Paiwan (排湾族) concerning the Mudanshe Incident have been a force behind the transformation of national policy in Taiwan. When considering the construction of a new national history, against the history of the ethnocide and cultural genocide of indigenous peoples, as discussed by Shimizu, the author realises that obvious differences exist in the presence, or absence, of multi-layered historical recognition and memories between societies in which the majority took part in nation-building after decolonisation, and societies decolonised by a foreign power, such as Taiwan. In Taiwan, a new national history was discussed and considered after democratisation by both the KMT and the Democratic Progressive Party. However, the indigenous peoples of Taiwan have had little opportunity to participate in negotiations concerning the emerging national history, and their historical recognition and memories have been largely overlooked. This chapter examines multi-layered colonial experiences of the indigenous peoples of Taiwan. They had difficulties in constructing their identities through the remembrance of the events regarding Japanese colonialism, due to the fact that indigenous memories of events, in spite of their significance, were not recognised under the decolonisation from Japan by the KMT, even after democratisation. This chapter first provides an overview of the indigenous Paiwan and the Mudanshe Incident representing the first contact between the indigenous peoples of Taiwan and Japanese colonialism. Next, the problem of indigenous people’s exclusion from commemorations of the Incident in different eras is discussed.2 Through the prism of monuments and realms of memory regarding the Incident, an analysis is given of more recent commemorative activities held by Paiwan residents of Mudan Township (hereinafter, Mudan Paiwan), whose ancestors were directly involved in the Incident, in order to assess its significance, and conclusions are drawn.3 The Mudanshe Incident has been well researched by historians. Comprehensive empirical studies have been conducted from a historical perspective on Japanese colonialism originating with this incident, including several studies in recent years (Barclay 2018; Eskildsen 2019). This chapter diachronically examines the

182  Maoko MIYAOKA realms of memory of the Incident, illuminating current difficulties in representing memories of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples regarding the Japanese Empire, from a perspective of historical anthropology.

The Mudanshe Incident and indigenous Paiwan Indigenous Paiwan Taiwanese indigenous groups are classified as Austronesian. With foreign political and economic influence since the 17th century, indigenous groups from the western plain adapted to Han culture and were incorporated into the Qing Dynasty. In contrast, indigenous groups from the central mountainous and eastern plain maintained their autonomy, as did the Paiwan. Previously autonomous indigenous groups were gradually incorporated into the Japanese colonial state system at the end of the 19th century. These groups were deprived of land and autonomy by the Japanese regime, relegated to the lowest social status in colonial Taiwan, and encouraged to assimilate into Japanese culture through direct control by the police in a special administrative district outside national legal jurisdiction (Barclay 2018). After World War II, all indigenous groups were integrated into the nation-state, assimilating lifestyle and ­language into Han culture. Consequently, indigenous peoples’ low status remained unchanged, and they were subjected to social discrimination and contempt (Matsuoka 2012). Since the mid-1980s, and given the influence of Taiwan’s democratisation movement and global indigenous movements, a new generation of indigenous peoples has begun to initiate an indigenous movement to address discrimination and guarantee human and indigenous rights. In the mid-1990s, the name Yuanzhuminzu (原住民族), claimed by the indigenous rights movement, was then included in the constitution, and it became the official name representing Taiwanese indigenous peoples. Subsequently, the Status Act for Indigenous Peoples was enacted, guaranteeing rights to culture, education, and affirmative action. In 2005, the Indigenous Peoples Basic Law was passed, guaranteeing a wide range of rights, such as land rights and autonomy. However, no further laws specifically concerning land rights or autonomy have since been enacted. Sixteen indigenous ethnic groups are currently recognised by the Taiwanese government, with a total population of 574,508 (2.4% of Taiwan’s total population), of which approximately 48% are urban residents (as of July 2020). ­Paiwan population is 103,298 (as of July 2020), constituting the second largest of 16 indigenous groups recognised by the Taiwanese government.4 The native Paiwan language is Pinayuanan, and areas traditionally settled by Paiwan are located in the mountainous southern Taiwan (Pingtung County and Taitung County). Paiwan villages in Hengchun Peninsula (恒春半島) occupy the southernmost part of the settled area of the Paiwan people and were called paliljaliljau, derived from the word ‘edge’ in Pinayuanan (TIUIE 1935: 298).

Multi-layered realms of memory  183 Mudanshe Incident In 1874, approximately 20 years before Taiwan became a Japanese colony, Japanese troops led by Commander-in-Chief Lieutenant General Saigo Tsugumichi (also known as Saigō Jūdō 西郷従道), of Satsuma (Kagoshima), invaded southern Taiwan attacking indigenous Paiwan villagers. These troops, subsequently, occupied the Hengchun Peninsula (known as Lonkiau at that time) for six months, events known in Japanese history as the Taiwan Expedition. This armed invasion originated when a ship from Miyakojima (in the Ryukyu islands) foundered off Bayaowan (八瑤湾, currently Jiupeng Village, Manzhou Township, Pingtung County) southeast of the Hengchun Peninsula on 17 December 1871 (by the solar calendar, the same hereinafter). The Ryukyu Kingdom maintained the state regime at that time. According to the oldest historical records, events were as follows: On her return voyage, the ship carrying officers, attendants, sailors, and passengers from Miyakojima and other islands (called Ryukyuan’s here) drifted in a storm. Of the 69 passengers, 3 drowned, and the other 66 walked into the mountains for help. After camping overnight, they arrived at a village, where they were given food and shelter for the night. Early the next morning, 66 men ran from the village. Villagers attacked them and, consequently, 54 men were killed. Local Han people rescued and protected 12 Ryukyuan survivors. After staying at Yang You-wang’s (楊友旺) home in Baoli (保力, currently Baoli Village, Checheng Township of Pingtung County) for over 40 days and moving to Fongshan (鳳山, currently Kaohsiung), where the Qing Dynasty held a Taiwan Prefectural Office, the survivors were sent to Ryukyu-kan (琉球館), a branch office of Ryukyu Kingdom in Fuzhou (福州) in February the following year and returned to Ryukyu in July of the same year (SKMPC 1936: 49–55) (Figure 9.1). The Meiji government sent troops for the ‘accusation’ and ‘punishment’ of local residents. Underlying this decision was the ambition of high Japanese officials to occupy, cultivate, and colonise indigenous territory, not under Qing Dynasty rule at that time. Moreover, Charles William Le Gendre, a one-time US ambassador to Xiamen, advised the Japanese government in accordance with his notions of Western colonialism and imperialism (Eskildsen 2019; Mouri 1996). The troops, commanded by Saigo, landed on the Hengchun Peninsula in May 1874 and attacked the indigenous Paiwan villagers, Sinvaudjan (Mudanshe, 牡丹社 in Chinese) and Kuskus (Gaoshifoshe, 高士佛社 in Chinese) in Macacukes gorge (石門, Shimen in Chinese, Sekimon in Japanese) in upriver Sichong (四重渓) on 22 May. In this battle, Aruqu, the Paiwan chief of Sinvaudjan, and his son were slain, in a death toll exceeding 70 Paiwan and 4 Japanese fatalities, with between 7 and 20 injured (Ochiai 1920: 79; SKMPC 1936: 12–13).5 After the battle at Macacukes, both villages were burnt down by Saigo’s army and an occupying regime was established. The total number of Paiwan fatalities is unknown. Among 3,658 Japanese involved, 12 died in battle, 1 drowned, and 525 died (SKMPC 1936: 471), from tropical epidemics (Ochiai 1920: 157–192).

184  Maoko MIYAOKA

Figure 9.1  Location map of Miyakojima and Bayaowan. Source: Produced by Maoko Miyaoka.

In contemporary Taiwan, the term Mudanshe Incident (or Mudan Incident, Mudan Village Incident, 牡丹社事件) is used to refer to either or both incidents in 1871 and 1874. Sinvaudjan is equivalent to the current Mudan Village (牡丹村), and Kuskus, equivalent to the current Gaoshi Village (高士村), both in Mudan Township, Pingtung County. However, only the former village name Mudanshe, originating from Sinvaudjan, represents a series of events. In this chapter, the term ‘Mudanshe Incident’ is the generic term for both ­incidents. ‘The Ryukyuans Incident’ is used here to refer specifically to the 1871 incident.6 Mudanshe Incident and Paiwan in Mudan Township After the Mudanshe Incident, the Qing government made major revisions to conventional policy, initiating aggressive development and strengthening its engagement with indigenous peoples. The Hengchun Peninsula became one of the most advanced regions in indigenous policy, which continued under Japanese rule. Until the beginning of this century, few studies examined the Ryukyuans Incident in 1871, and none considered the position and perspective of the Paiwan in the two incidents of 1871 and 1874 (Kamimura 2004: 149–150; Kasahara 2007).7 The Mudanshe Incident has been consistently reported in Taiwanese and Japanese textbooks as an important historical incident disrupting the relationship between Japan and the Qing Dynasty, changing their policy towards governing Taiwan.

Multi-layered realms of memory  185 However, these explanations have typically involved only brief descriptions, such as the following account: In 1871, a Ryukyu ship was wrecked and washed ashore on the Hengchun Peninsula, where passengers were killed by natives. In 1874, Japan sent soldiers on the pretext of ‘punishing murderers’, attacking natives of Mudan village. This is historically called the ‘Mudanshe Incident’. (Lay 2011: 112) In this description, the background of the 1871 incident is not taken into consideration. This simplistic account has led to a stereotypical representation of ‘Mudan natives’ as ‘barbaric murderers’ in Taiwanese society. Many Paiwan students from Mudan Township have, even today, been subjected to discrimination by classmates at senior school or university when being taught about the Incident in their history classes.

Commemoration of the Mudanshe Incident Commemoration by Saigo Tsugumichi and the Meiji government During the military invasion and occupation of the Hengchun Peninsula in 1874, the Saigo army erected two monuments commemorating the 1871 Ryukyuans Incident and one monument to the 1874 military invasion. Although the two former monuments were constructed in the form of ‘graves’ for Ryukyuan victims, only selected details of the Incident are recorded on the gravestone. This suggests that the two monuments were erected to honour the Saigo army’s invasion, rather than to mourn the Ryukyuan victims. The bodies of 54 Ryukyuan victims were immediately buried at the scene of the Incident, Shuangxikou (雙渓口, currently in Shimen Village, Mudan Township of Pingtung County), by the Han merchant Deng Tian-bao (鄧天保), who witnessed the Incident. They were subsequently disinterred and reburied at Tongpu (formerly known as Tonglingpu 統領埔, currently Tongpu Village 統埔村, Checheng Township of Pingtung County) by those who rescued and protected the Ryukyuan survivors, including Lin A-jiu (林阿九), Yang You-wang, and others. Lin A-jiu’s family organised religious rites for the reburial (Yamanaka 1944: 153–155).8 In 1874, Saigo Tsugumichi ordered the reconstruction of the burial mound at Tongpu and erected a gravestone after engaging in battle with Paiwan villagers. The gravestone was approximately 1.45 metres tall, with the inscription ‘The Grave of the Fifty-four People of Ryukyu Domain, Great Japan’ (大日本琉球藩五十四名墓). Behind, the history from the Ryukyuans Incident to the military invasion of the Saigo army was engraved in Japanised Classical Chinese (hereinafter referred to as ‘Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave’). ‘Ryukyu Domain’ (琉球藩) was created as an administrative district in 1872, when the Meiji government separated it from Kagoshima prefecture. At the time of the 1871 Incident, the ‘Ryukyu Domain’ did not yet exist as an

186  Maoko MIYAOKA administrative district in Japan, thus the Ryukyuan victims were not ‘the people of Ryukyu Domain’. Manifestly, by describing the Ryukuan victims as ‘the people of Ryukyu Domain’ on the gravestone, Saigo was attempting to publicise both the notion of Ryukuan victims ruled by the Empire of Japan and the legitimacy of his military invasion and occupation. In the inscription on the back, the Paiwan villages where Ryukyuans slept overnight are described as ‘the den of insurgents’ (賊窟) and ‘the nest’ (巣窟), and the Paiwan villagers of Sinvaudjan and Kuskus as ‘the rioters’ (凶徒).9 Thus, the Paiwan were described in violent, derogatory terms, indicating that Saigo’s attitude towards both Ryukyuans and Paiwan was oppressive and colonial and that the purpose of the monument was to commemorate the military invasion and occupation of Hengchun Peninsula by Saigo’s army. In addition to the erection of the afore-mentioned memorial, Saigo also sent orders to collect the remains of Ryukyuan victims and send them back to Ryukyu. As a result, 44 skulls were collected from the Paiwan villages and sent to Naha. The following year, the Ryukyu Domain buried the skulls at Uinomou in Wakasa, Naha. Twenty-four years later, in 1899, this grave was relocated to the grounds of Gokokuji temple (in Naminoue, Naha) on the orders of Narahara Shigeru, governor of Okinawa Prefecture, and a new gravestone was erected. The words ‘The Grave of Victims in Taiwan’ were engraved on the front of the gravestone, and the Paiwan, who had been subjected to the Saigo army’s ‘accusation’, were described as ‘the villain’ (兇賊) on the back inscription (hereinafter, this grave is referred to as ‘Naha Ryukyuan Grave’) (Matayoshi 1990: 315–317). In addition, when Saigo withdrew from the Hengchun Peninsula in December 1874 after the Qing-Japan negotiations, he did not demolish the barracks in Guishan (亀山), where the general headquarters had been kept for six months, and erected a monument nearby. However, the barracks and the monument were soon removed by the Qing army (Lin 2003: 41). Commemoration by the Government-General of Taiwan In 1895, after Japan occupied Taiwan, officials of the Government-General of Taiwan (台湾総督府) periodically commemorated the Saigo invasion. On 4 November 1895, Sagara Nagatsuna (相良長綱) was appointed chief of the Koshun Branch Office (恒春出張所) of the Civil Administration of the Government-General. Sagara, a native of Satsuma, the same birthplace as Saigo, participated in the military invasion with Saigo in 1874. Sagara held an opening ceremony for the branch office on 7 November 1895. He soon ordered the cleaning of the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave and held a memorial service in front of the grave on 15 November 1895 (Yamanaka 1944: 164). In 1916, Shiojiri Yataro (塩尻弥太郎), chief of the Koshun Branch Office, reconstructed the monument in Guishan that had been erected by Saigo in 1874, but it was soon removed by the Qing Dynasty army. He engraved the inscription ‘the general headquarters of the conquest of aborigines in the 7th year of the Meiji era’ (明治七年討蕃軍本営地) on the monument (Lin 2003: 41).

Multi-layered realms of memory  187 In the Showa era, the commemoration project was implemented with designation of the sites related Mudanshe Incident as historic sites, for the 40th anniversary of the inauguration of the Government-General of Taiwan. The Government-General’s Office designated the following as historic sites: the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave, in 1933, the monument of the general headquarters in Guishan and the old battlefield at Macacukes, in 1935.10 As part of the same celebrations, a monument designated ‘memorial of distinguished services of Commander Saigo’ (西郷都督遺績記念碑) was constructed on the west bank of Macacukes. Beside this monument was another, bearing the inscription ‘the monument to the war dead and those who died from disease for the conquest of aborigines’ (征蕃役戦 死病歿忠魂碑), erected by officials and residents of Takao-shu (高雄州).11 It is significant that the site of these two 1935 monuments in Macacukes did not belong to the special administrative district for indigenous peoples, including the Paiwan, but was instead an ordinary administrative district where most residents were Han people. According to an article dated 16 March 1936, in ‘Taiwan Nichinichi Shimpo’ (台湾日日新報 Taiwan Daily News), the unveiling of the two monuments was held in March 1936. There were more than 300 attendees, including not only officials of the Government-General of Taiwan and other official institutions but also members of Shijūkei (四重渓) Seinen-dan (青年団, a local young men’s association) and pupils of state primary schools for Taiwanese (公学校 kōgakkō). There is no record of any Paiwan involved in the Incident attending the ceremony. According to the article mentioned earlier, during the ceremony, Hiratsuka Hiroyoshi (平塚廣義), chief of Home Affairs of the GovernmentGeneral, as the representative of the Commander Saigo Memorial Monument Construction Committee, gave an address praising the ‘distinguished achievement’ of Saigo’s army and stated that its invasion and occupation had made other countries recognise Japan’s power, preparing for the permanent administration of Taiwan by the Empire of Japan. Commemoration of Ryukyuan victims Commemorations of the 1871 Ryukyuans Incident were periodically held by descendants of local Han people involved in the Incident, descendants of the Ryukyuan victims, and residents of the victims’ hometown. A small red-brick gravestone near the gravestone erected by Saigo at the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave in the Hengchun Peninsula remains today. This gravestone was engraved with the names of the two Han men, Lin A-jiu and Yang Youwang, involved in the burial of the Ryukyu people and their subsequent rituals. The gravestone was made by Lin A-jiu’s son, Lin Peng-shi (林椪獅). According to Yamanaka (1944: 157), this gravestone was made at approximately the same time as the memorial service in front of the grave was held in 1895, on the orders of Sagara. On reconstruction of the 1874 grave, Saigo issued a certificate to Lin A-jiu to pay 20 yen to cover the cost of rituals and requested periodic rituals, but the ritual fees were not paid thereafter. During that time, Lin A-jiu and Lin

188  Maoko MIYAOKA Peng-shi continued worship there twice a year. After repairs in 1895, the cost of rituals was paid annually by the government, and the rituals continued (Yamanaka 1944: 170). Thus, this gravestone may be considered a memorial not only to the Ryukyuan victims but also to the acts and memories of the local Han people who held services for the victims. In 1928, an 1871 Ryukyuans Incident survivor, Shimabukuro Kame (島袋亀), then aged 75 and residing in Okinawa, wrote a letter stating that he wished to honour those who had rescued them in the Incident and sent it to Teruya Hiroshi (照屋宏), a representative of the Okinawan People’s Association in Taihoku (currently Taipei), and engineer at the Railway Bureau of the Government-General of Taiwan. Teruya and other volunteers from Okinawa conducted a survey of local Han people who had rescued and protected victims in the Incident more than half a century before, and investigated the names of victims never before recorded in government documents or engraved on the gravestone, and renovated the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave. In this renovation, Saigo’s gravestone was mounted on a high pedestal, and a new stone slab with the names of victims was attached to the lower part of the pedestal (Matayoshi 1990: 319; Teruya 1925; Yamanaka 1944: 170–173). After World War II, the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave was not maintained. The gravestone fell from the pedestal, the graveyard fell into ruin, and neighbours used the site as a cow barn (Lin 2003: 35). In 1978, Ryukyu and Okinawa historian Matayoshi Seikiyo (又吉盛清, then Urasoe City Government employee) visited the site and was saddened by the disrepair, prompting the decision to repair and commemorate the gravestone. After returning to Okinawa, Matayoshi consulted the Mayor of Hirara (平良, the main town in Miyakojima) and Okinawan historians, to search for Ryukyuan victims’ descendants, and asked relevant municipalities for cooperation. The following year, they visited the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave and held a memorial service. Subsequently, ‘The Council of Municipalities Related to Refurbishing the Taiwan Victims’ Grave’ was organised by relevant municipalities, victims’ descendants, and experts. The council undertook two major projects. The first was the relocation and renovation of the Naha Ryukyuan Grave in 1980. This grave was moved from Gokokuji temple precinct to a location outside the temple, and a new stone slab displaying victims’ names was added to the pedestal. Three descendants of Lin A-jiu or Yang You-wang were invited to the unveiling and were thanked by victims’ descendants. The second project was the renovation of Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave with the Lin family’s cooperation in 1982. The old burial mound was replaced by a concrete turtleback tomb, with the red-brick gravestone in front of it. In addition, the stone slab with victims’ names, made by Teruya Hiroshi, was placed on the base of the Saigo gravestone, and a new stone slab bearing an acknowledgement of the local Han people made by the council was placed inside the outer wall (Matayoshi 1990: 317–327). Through these projects, victims’ descendants from the same hometown interacted with the Lin and Yang families and expressed their gratitude. However,

Multi-layered realms of memory  189 as before, the Paiwan people, who had allegedly killed 54 Ryukyu people, were excluded from these commemorations. Commemoration under KMT rule After World War II, when Taiwan was under KMT administration, commemorations involving these monuments were carried out from a different perspective. In 1953, Zhang Shan-zhong (張山鐘), governor of Pingtung County, referred to the title of the ‘memorial of distinguished services of Commander Saigo’ built on the west bank of Macacukes as ‘shameful for the country’ and changed it to ‘dengqing haiyu huanwo heshan (澄清海宇還我河山 to clean the sea and regain our mountains and rivers)’. This revised title was intended to honour the indigenous people’s fortitude against Japan (Wu 2000: 122; NDII 2004: 381). This shift represents a commemoration in line with the historical recognition of the KMT government that had experienced the anti-Japanese war and may be understood as a new representation of national memory in post-war Taiwan. During the 1982 renovation on the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave by the Okinawans, the Taiwan authorities ordered the removal of the three-letter inscription ‘Dainippon’ (大日本, Great Japan) on the gravestone. After negotiations by Matayoshi and others, the ‘Dainippon’ were, instead, covered with cement (Matayoshi 1990: 326–327). Also, two monuments mentioned earlier were destroyed after the war, although there are no records about when they were destroyed. The first was the monument to the general headquarters in Guishan, on which the inscription was damaged and became illegible (Lin 2003: 42). The other was ‘the monument to the war dead and those who died of disease for the conquest of aborigines’ beside the ‘memorial of distinguished services of Commander Saigo’. Only the pedestal of the monument remained now, while the monument once standing on the pedestal and the stone slab with inscriptions installed on the pedestal were lost (Lin 2003: 64). When the author visited the site in 2011, a stone fragment from the monument lay in the bushes near the pedestal.12 Although it is not known who vandalised these monuments, it is likely that there was a movement under the post-war KMT regime to erase traces of the memory left by the Japanese colonisers. Commemoration after democratisation in Taiwan Since Taiwan’s democratisation, interest in local history has increased, and thus commemorations of the Mudanshe Incident have taken place in these realms of memory. The Kenting National Park improved the environment surrounding the monument of the general headquarters during construction of the National Museum of Marine Biology at the eastern side of the monument in 1996. Additionally, an information plaque explaining the Mudanshe Incident and the monument was added (Lin 2003: 43). In 2000, a new stone monument was built by the head teacher at Baoli Primary School in Baoli Village and a local NPO next to this monument, with the title lettering ‘the origin and history of the monument of the general headquarters of the

190  Maoko MIYAOKA conquest of aborigines by the Japanese army’. The lengthy inscription states that the deaths of 561 in the Saigo army, caused by the epidemic during their occupation, had facilitated negotiation between Japan and the Qing Dynasty, as well as mediation by the United States and United Kingdom. It also described the history of the monument’s renovation and the destruction of the inscription after the war. In the same year, the cement covering the ‘Dainippon’ on the gravestone at the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave was removed, and the title restored, because ‘political taboo’ imposed on the monument by the authorities in the 1982 renovation work had ‘disappeared’(NDII 2004: 384). The removal occurred in the same year as the Democratic Progressive Party of Taiwan took over from the KMT. The fact that the cement covering ‘Dainippon’ was removed and a new monument built by private organisations in 2000 appears to reflect a change in the representation of memory due to political changes. In 2007, the Checheng Township Office upgraded the environment surrounding the Tongpu Ryukyuans Grave and remodelled it into a historical park, erecting a torii (gateway to a Shinto shrine) showing the relationship between this site and Japan and displaying an information plaque about the Mudanshe Incident. Additionally, Pingtung County designated three monuments relating to the Incident and the Tongpu Ryukyuan Grave in Checheng Township erected by Japan as historic sites, in the 2010s. Underlying these initiatives was Taiwan’s recent cultural policy of using buildings and remnants of the past, including those from the Japanese rule period, as cultural and tourism resources. As described earlier, various subjects involved in the Mudanshe Incident etched different memories into the Incident monuments from their own perspectives. However, in these multi-layered realms of memory, the memories of Mudan Paiwan, who allegedly killed Ryukyu people and fought Saigo’s army, have never been considered. Thus, Paiwan have been deprived of the opportunity to remember the Incident from their own perspective, which might conflict with Okinawan and Han people’s perspectives. As a result, questions regarding the reasons why the Paiwan killed the Ryukyuans, how they fought against the Saigo army, and how they view their past have been ignored.

Commemoration by Mudan Paiwan The Mudanshe Incident seen from traditional ideas regarding spiritual beings Mudan Paiwan have long been reluctant to talk about the Mudanshe Incident. In Pinayuanan, the soul and the spirit are referred to as cemas. When a person dies, their soul becomes cemas and goes to the mountain where the spirits of the dead are said to gather. However, in cases of premature death by murder, accident, plague, or in childbirth, the soul remains in this world, becomes an evil spirit, and haunts the place where it died (TGRGA 1922: 15–23). The evil spirits allegedly bring disasters, and the site of premature death is traditionally regarded as impure, becoming a place of worship (TGRGA 1922: 248–254). Even now, for Mudan

Multi-layered realms of memory  191 Paiwan, mentioning someone prematurely deceased is taboo (palisi), because of fear that it might bring misfortune. In the Mudanshe Incident, many, including the chief of Sinvaudjan and his son, were killed or injured in battle. Thus, Mudan Paiwan have generally avoided mentioning this taboo incident, and the historical battlefield of Macacukes gorge is considered an inauspicious place. Reinterpretation and resourcing On the other hand, since the 1970s, Mudan Paiwan government officials have assertively requested that Pingtung County establish a Mudanshe Incident memorial to attract tourists. At the same time, they began to research the Incident, from the perspective of Mudan Paiwan, and disseminate their history both inside and outside Taiwan. These efforts were led by Valjluk Mavaliu (Han name: Hua A-cai 華阿財, 1938–2018), born in Kuskus. Valjluk developed a career as teacher, became mayor of Mudan Township, member of the Pingtung County Council, and civil servant. He began his research on the Mudanshe Incident early on. He interviewed elderly villagers, and researched historical data, including in Japanese, to investigate the truth of the Incident of which historical accounts and interpretations differed widely. Based on this research, Valjluk explained the killing of the Ryukyu people in the village of the Paiwan as follows (Hua 2006, 2007). The Ryukyuans invaded Kuskus territory without permission. Even though the Kuskus chief treated the Ryukyuans as guests, offereing water, meals, and accommodation, they fled the village without permission. That was equivalent to violating the village’s original law in view of traditional customs. The Kuskus and Sinvaudjan men pursued the Ryukyus and asked why they had fled, but could not communicate, and so killed them due to cultural differences and misunderstandings. Also, Lianes. Punanang (Han name: Gao Jia-sin 高加馨, 1973–) from Sinvaudjan, received guidance from Valjluk, conducted surveys, and discussed the Mudanshe Incident in her undergraduate and master’s theses. The emphasis of her study based on the memories of the Mudanshe Incident of elderly villagers from Sinvaudjan may be summarised as follows (Gao 2008: 29; 50). The chiefs of Sinvaudjan and Kuskus refused to submit to Saigo, and engaged in battle, then met Saigo in the hopes of ending the hostile situation with Japan. However, the outcome of this war was uncertain, and the Paiwan do not admit having lost to Japan. It is a very proud history for descendants and Taiwanese society that our ancestors fought hard against the invading Japanese forces for the survival of the village and bravely defended our hometown. The reinterpretation of the Incident by Mudan Paiwan intellectuals, as described earlier, was accepted by Mudan Township officials and, in 2003, a panel exhibition was held in the township. A series of surveys and international academic symposiums have since been conducted in collaboration with external researchers. Also, several primary and junior schools in Mudan Township began to use the

192  Maoko MIYAOKA Mudanshe Incident as content for integrated learning and have performed drama and dance on the theme of the Incident on stage. Valjluk proposed exchanges between Mudan Township, Okinawa, and Miyakojima in his presentation at the 2004 International Academic Symposium in Mudan Township. Then, with support from researchers in Taipei and the government, the Mudan Township Office sent 21 delegates to Naha and Miyakojima the following year, headed by the mayor of Mudan. In Naha, the group visited the Naha Ryukyuans Grave and held a memorial service with Ryukyuan victims’ descendants. In the ceremony, an elderly Sinvaudjan man, whose ancestor allegedly died in the battle with the Saigo’s army, acted as a representative, stating that he ‘came here to express the sincerity of indigenous peoples and in the hope that everyone will dismiss the Incident and look ahead together’, and presented an offering of alcohol to the grave. In Miyakojima, the group spoke to city officials and victims’ descendants, and the mayor of Mudan proposed reconciliation, future exchanges, and the establishment of a sister city relationship to Mayor Hirara (Wang 2005: 16; 20). In this way, the Mudanshe Incident was reinterpreted by the Mudan Paiwan and now serves as a resource for education, tourism, and interaction (Miyaoka 2017). Mudan Paiwan commemoration The plan to erect a Mudanshe Incident memorial, requested by Mudan Township since the 1970s never materialised, due to budgetary and location issues. However, as an alternative, the Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park has recently been built with funding from the Tourism Bureau, MOTC. This memorial park is in the upper reaches of the Sichong, away from the ‘memorial of distinguished services of Commander Saigo’, and is administered by Shimen Village (石門村, Kapanan in Pinayuanan) in Mudan Township (Figure 9.2). The park was officially opened on 22 May 2014, the day commemorating Sinvaudjan and Kuskus skirmish with Saigo’s army. Mudan Township designated this date the ‘Incident Memorial Day’. Mudan Township also erected a new Mudanshe Incident monument in the park. After visiting Naha and Miyakojma in 2005, the Mudan Township Office prepared two monuments of the same shape, titled ‘Love and Peace’, depicting one man in Paiwan dress and another in Ryukyu clothing drinking together from ceremonial Paiwan wooden double cups symbolising reconciliation and friendship between Mudan Paiwan and Miyakojima islanders. In 2007, the Mudan Township Office invited the mayor of Miyakojima City and victims’ descendants from Miyakojima to the unveiling of one monument at the planned site of the ‘Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park’ (Figure 9.3). The other monument was gifted to Miyakojima City and placed in Taiwan no Mori (Taiwan Forest) at Shimoji Junior High School, which had a sister school in Taiwan. These two ‘Love and Peace’ monuments have no inscriptions. However, nine panels were set on the promenade of the ‘Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park’, giving an outline of the Mudanshe Incident in chronological order written in Chinese (also translated into English and Japanese) by Lianes. Punanang. The ‘Love and

Multi-layered realms of memory  193

Figure 9.2  Map of memorial sites of the Mudanshe Incident. Source: Produced by Maoko Miyaoka, with two maps in Huang 2013: 4; 22 used as reference bases.

194  Maoko MIYAOKA

Figure 9.3  ‘Love and Peace’ monument in the Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park, 2012. Source: Photo by Maoko Miyaoka.

Peace’ panel explains that the new monument expresses regret and condolences to the Ryukyuan victims, as well as homage to Paiwan ancestors who had resisted Japanese attack, to protect their villages. It also explains that Mudan Township held an international Academic Symposium there in 2004, visited Miyakojima in 2005, and held the unveiling of the ‘Love and Peace’ monument in 2007, with the guests from Miyakojima. The panel concludes with the following sentence (quoted English translation). They have further designated 22 May as the Mudan Village Incident Memorial Day to encourage people worldwide to gain a deeper understanding of the Incident, and to help establish its significance in Taiwan’s contemporary history. In this way it is hoped that the universal values of love and peace will be underscored by a newly acquired knowledge of reconciliation and co-existence. The text implies that Mudan Paiwan treat the Mudanshe Incident as ‘the practical past’ from which we can draw lessons and apply them to the present, to anticipate the future (or at least the proximate future) and provide reasons, if not justification, for actions to be taken in the present on behalf of a future better than the current dispensation. (White 2010: 17)

Multi-layered realms of memory  195 Here, Mudan Paiwan appealed to the general public in Taiwan and the Taiwanese government to approve their own Mudan Paiwan way of commemorating the ‘Mudanshe Incident’ and their right to participate in the construction of Taiwan’s history with their perspectives. Significance of commemoration by Mudan Paiwan Why did Mudan Paiwan wish to create new monuments? The monuments erected by Japanese forces and authorities all used discriminatory language in their inscriptions. Mudan Paiwan were called ‘the rioters’ or ‘the villain’, their villages ‘the den of insurgents’ and ‘the nest’, and the battle with Paiwan ‘the conquest of the aborigine’. These expressions were maintained in successive commemorations. Moreover, the Mudan Paiwan had been excluded from commemorations, and history textbooks in Taiwan perpetuated the stereotype that ‘Mudan natives’ were ‘barbaric murderers’ in the collective memory of the Han majority in Taiwan. This situation continued even after democratisation. Thus, in representations of memory of the Mudanshe Incident, it has been difficult to dispel the label of ‘barbaric murderers’ for Mudan Paiwan people. By creating a new realm of memory in their own land and entrusting the message of ‘love and peace’ to the monuments erected there, Mudan Paiwan wished to dispel the stereotype of ‘barbaric murderers’ perpetuated by the ruling regime. In addition, as exemplified in the historiographies of the two Paiwan intellectuals mentioned earlier, Mudan Paiwan also gained the opportunity to express the historical recognition and memories previously suppressed. Today, Mudan Paiwan strive to embody the reconstructed memory of the Mudanshe Incident in their lives and to establish it as their collective memory. It may take time for this collective memory, based on historical recognition of Mudan Paiwan, to appear in Taiwanese textbooks. However, it should be noted that the national government of Taiwan has also recently been focusing on reconciliation between indigenous peoples and the state.

Conclusion Methods of memory are culturally rooted and diverse (Rosald 1980). The Paiwan traditionally transmitted the genealogies of chief families through oral history dating back more than ten generations, connected to their mythology (TIUIE 1935: 265–330). Ancestral statues and treasures (vases, glass beads, and bronze swords) passed down through chief families were also traditionally used as a medium of memory (Chen 1968: 293–299; Kamimura 1996). These traditional methods of remembering history among the Paiwan are related to the context surrounding the establishment of the ‘Love and Peace’ monument by Mudan Paiwan. Interestingly, the commemoration of the Mudanshe Incident by Mudan Paiwan has also taken the form of Chinese literature. One reason for this may be that, because indigenous languages are endangered, writing in Chinese is viewed as necessary for indigenous peoples in Taiwan to preserve their history for future generations who may not have the ability to understand indigenous languages.

196  Maoko MIYAOKA Another potential reason is that expression in Chinese literature is considered to be the most effective way to appeal to the general public in Taiwan. Thus, to be understood and acknowledged, it is necessary to express indigenous perspectives in Chinese literature.13 The restraints of character expression are not present in the Marshall Islands example discussed by Kurosaki in this book. Those restraints are closely related to the tradition with respect to written culture in the Chinese civilisation. The realms of memory of the Mudanshe Incident created by the Japanese regime were originally a colonial product but, in contemporary Taiwan, are considered to be a cultural resource, similarly to buildings of the Japanese colonial era described by Kamizuru in this book. Thus, in recent Taiwanese history, what remains of the Japanese colonial era has been objectified and used for comparison with that of the KMT regime. The majority Han people of Taiwan can make use of the realms of memory originating from Japanese colonialism as a part of their own history, using them as a historical resource that constitutes and asserts their own historical recognition. This point may be applicable to the current local interpretations of the monument built by Japan in the Marshall Islands, described in Kurosaki’s chapter in this book. However, the situation for Taiwanese indigenous peoples differs from that of the Han majority in Taiwan. Importantly, in the realms of memory of the Mudanshe Incident, the violent and derogatory representations of Mudan Paiwan created by the Japanese colonial regime remain today. The subordinate condition of indigenous peoples in remembering colonial history corresponds to their marginalised status under Japanese administration. Similarly, the violent and oppressive institutions for indigenous peoples in the Japanese colonial era prevail to this day. For example, all indigenous peoples’ land was regarded as Terra nullius by the Government-General of Taiwan and mostly remains nationally owned. Similarly, indigenous autonomy was denied by Taiwan’s Government-General and has not yet been regained. Thus, for indigenous peoples, colonial experiences of the Japanese Empire have significance as the origin of the crisis of ethnocide and cultural genocide, which they have faced for more than a century, and as a framework for addressing present social status. Therefore, indigenous peoples regard many monuments and institutions originating from Japanese colonialism as still carrying their colonial meanings, and thus, as challenges to be overcome, particularly for younger generations involved in indigenous rights movements. Based on this analysis, when indigenous peoples create new realms of memory and hold commemorations, the process highlights the harsh reality that indigenous peoples are still ruled as minorities in contemporary Taiwanese society. Even after the Japanese administration, the indigenous peoples of Taiwan had to face inordinate difficulties in remembering and commemorating colonial events such as the Mudanshe Incident from their own perspectives. This is because they experienced another administration and marginalisation in the decolonisation process from Japan, carried out by the KMT as a foreign power, and also at the hands of the majority Han people.

Multi-layered realms of memory  197 Nevertheless, in Taiwan today, transitional justice for indigenous peoples is currently pursued by the national government. It is hoped that progress will be made towards the decolonisation of indigenous peoples, including colonial memories, in the near future.

Addendum The Pingtung County Government removed the title with the inscription ‘dengqing haiyu huanwo heshan’ from the ‘memorial of distinguished services of Commander Saigo’ in 2016 and restored the original 1935 appearance at the end of 2020, following the resolution of the Cultural Heritage Deliberation Committee of Pintung County. The removed title has been preserved by the Cultural Heritage of Pingtung County Cultural Center.

Acknowledgements I am grateful to Valjluk Mavaliu, Lianes. Punanang, Cudjuy Isumalji, and other many Mudan Paiwan people for their collaboration and hospitality during my fieldwork for this study. I would like to thank the Mudan Township Office, Checheng Township Office, Shimen Elementary School, and Mudan Junior High School for sharing their experiences with me. This work was supported by The Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science Project No. 21320165, Organiser: Hisahiko Kamizuru/Project No. 22251012, Organiser: Yuko Mio/Project No. 22401047, Organiser: Atsushi Nobayashi/Project No. 19H01397, Organiser: Maoko Miyaoka. This chapter is a rewrite of ‘Multilayered Realms of Memory: A Diachronic Study of the Commemoration of the Mudanshe Incident in Taiwan’ (重層化する記憶の場：〈牡丹社事件〉コメモレイショ ンの通時的考察), published in the Japanese Journal of Cultural Anthropology (文化人類学) 81(2): 266–283 (2016) (doi.10.14890/jjcanth.81.2_266). I would also like to express my gratitude to the Japanese Society of Cultural Anthropology for approving this reproduction of the original paper.

Notes 1 See Mio’s introduction in this book. 2 The concept of ‘realms of memory’ is based on Pierre Nora’s research (1996). 3 The fieldwork for this chapter was conducted in five periods (19 days) in Mudan Township (牡丹郷), Checheng Township (車城郷) in Pingtung County (屏東縣) in 2011– 13, and one period (5 days) in Naha City (那覇市), and Miyakojima City (宮古島市) in Okinawa Prefecture (沖縄県) in 2011. 4 Figures related to the population as of July 2020 are based on data from the Council of Indigenous Peoples (www.cip.gov.tw/portal/docList.html?CID=812FFAB0BCD92D1A accessed 29/08/2020) and the Department of Household Registration, Ministry of the Interior (www.ris.gov.tw/app/portal/346 accessed 29/08/2020), as applies hereinafter. 5 There is also a record of more than 30 Paiwan deaths during this battle (Fujisaki 1926: 418).

198  Maoko MIYAOKA 6 The 1871 incident has recently been referred to as the ‘Bayaowan Incident’ (八瑤灣事 件) after the bay where the Miyakojima ship foundered. 7 Regarding recent various studies on the Mudanshe Incident, see Chou’s article (2015). 8 Other researchers have argued that relocation of the grave from Shuanxikou to Tongpu was carried out on Saigo’s orders in 1874 [Ino 1928: 244; Taiwan Government-General 1916: 21–22]. However, the historical study by Yamanaka appears more accurate. 9 For the original text, see (Yamanaka 1944: 156–157). 10 There were a total of 29 designated historic sites and 19 natural monuments in Taiwan under the Act for the Preservation of Historic Sites, Places of Scenic Beauty and Natural Monuments (1919) (Wu 2000: 9–10). The three Mudanshe Incident sites were considered the oldest sites, in honour of the Japan-Taiwan relationship. 11 The 7th page (daily edition) of 16 March 1936, states, Taiwan Nichinichi Shimpo (Taiwan Daily News), ‘Distinguished services of Commander Saigo and officers reflected in the sun, the grand unveiling ceremony of the monument and the loyalty monument was held at Sekimon gorge yesterday.’ 12 Visited with Valjluk Mavaliu during fieldwork on 13 March 2011. 13 Recently, Badai, an indigenous Puyuma novelist, has published novels about the 1871 Ryukyuans Incident and the 1874 Invasion of the Saigo’s army (Badai 2015, 2017). Additionally, another book on the Saigo Army Invasion incident published at approximately the same time contains a summary of earlier research by Lianes. Punanang (Gao 2015). Both works capture these incidents from the perspectives of indigenous peoples in Chinese. Increasing number of publications like these may help to change the perception of the Mudanshe Incident in Taiwan in the near future.

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200  Maoko MIYAOKA Ochiai, Taizo 落合泰造. (1920) Memoir on the Conquest of Aborigine in the 7th Year of the Meiji Era 明治七年生蕃討伐回顧録. Tokyo: Self-published. doi.10.11501/960733 Rosald, Renato. (1980) Ilongot Headhunting, 1883–1974: A Study in Society and History. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Shimizu, Akitoshi 清水昭俊. (2008) ‘Indigenous Rights and the Conditions of State and Its People’ 先住民の権利と国家および国民の条件. Japanese Journal of Cultural Anthropology 文化人類学, 73(3):363–379. doi.10.14890/jjcanth.73.3_363 SKMPC (Commander Saigo and Governor Kabayama Memorial Publishing Committee) 西郷都督樺山総督記念事業出版委員会, ed. (1936) Commander Saigo and Governor Kabayama 西郷都督と樺山総督. Taihoku: SKMPC. In Yukio Hiyama 檜山幸夫, ed., (2011) Taiwan History Study Series 台湾史研究叢書, Vol. 2, Tokyo: Kress Publishing, Co. Ltd. Taiwan Government-General 台湾総督府, ed. (1916) Taiwan Affairs in Taisho 5th Year 台 湾事情 大正五年. Taihoku: Taiwan Government-General. doi.10.11501/956141 Teruya, Hiroshi 照屋生. (1925) ‘The Blood of the Precious Sacrifice of 54 Anonymous Heroes Greatly Contributed to the Advancement of the Imperial Power Toward the South: Reminiscence of the Mudanshe Incident’ 無名烈士五十四名が流した尊い 犠牲の血潮　帝国の国力南進に大貢献.　牡丹社遭難懐古, (1)-(4). Taiwan Daily News 台湾日日新報, 22–25 July. In History of Hirara City Publishing Committee 平 良市史編さん委員会, ed. (1980) History of Hirara City, Vol.3, Material 1, Premodern History 平良市史 第3巻 資料編1 前近代. Hirara: Hirara City Office. TGRGA (Taiwan Government-General Research Group on Aborigine) 台湾総督府蕃族 調査会, ed. (1922) Research Report on Customs of Aborigine 番族慣習調査報告書 Vol. 5, No. 3. Taihoku: TGRGA. doi.10.11501/942605 TIUIE (Taihoku Imperial University Institute of Ethnology) 台北帝国大学土俗人種学研 究室, ed. (1935) The Formosan Native Tribes; A Genealogical and Classificatory Study 台湾高砂族系統所属の研究. Tokyo: Toko-shoin. Wang, Mei-lien 王美連, ed. (2005) Achievement Report on Visit Okinawa for The Mudanshe Incident Love and Peace Century Great Reconciliation 牡丹社事件愛與和平世紀 大和解 沖縄訪問団成果報告書. Pingtung: Mudan Township Office. White, Haydon. (2010) ‘The Practical Past’. Historein, 10:10–19. Wu, Yung-Hwa 呉永華. (2000) Historical Monuments in Taiwan: The Stories of Taiwan’s Historical Sites and Natural Monuments During the Japanese Rule 台灣歴史紀念物― 日治時期台灣史蹟名勝與天然紀念物的故事. Taichung: Morning Star Publishing, Co. Ltd. Yamanaka, Kikori 山中樵. (1944) ‘Disasters Attacking Miyakojima Islanders in Taiwan’ 宮古島民の台湾遭害. Southern Islands 南島, 3:136–173.

Glossary

Note: Peculiar terms, proper nouns, major place names mentioned in this book are listed here. Japanese and Chinese terms are written in Roman alphabet notation with kanji, hiragana, and katakana. Traditional forms of Chinese characters used in pre-war Japan are changed to the Chinese characters in common use now. The languages are specified in the parentheses, except for place names. With a few exceptions, the conventional notation specific to each historical era is adopted here. Babeldaob:  The largest volcanic island of the Palau Islands. Japanese immigrants built up agricultural colonies during the Japanese administrative era. There were eleven traditional Palauan villages at that time. benshengren 本省人 (Chinese):  Persons or descendants of persons who moved to Taiwan before the end of the Japanese colonial period. Bentuhua 本土化 (Chinese):  Creation of Taiwanese political, cultural, and educational structures in the 1990s. A major shift from the Kuomingtang’s administration in the post-war period. chūgakkō 中学校 (Japanese):  Male junior high school in pre-war Japan. In colonial Taiwan, such schools were established especially for Japanese children, but after the revision of the Taiwan educational ordinance in 1922, coeducation was introduced for both Japanese and Taiwanese. In Nan’yō Guntō, Palau Junior High School for male students was established in 1942. Dainihon (Dainippon) Teikoku 大日本帝国 (Japanese):  The Empire of Japan. Official name of Japan used from the Meiji Revolution until the enactment of the Constitution of Japan in 1947. guominxiaoxue 國民小学 (Chinese):  State primary school originally established under the Kuomingtang rule in the post-war era and incorporated to the present-day in the educational system in Taiwan. guoyu 國語 (Chinese):  Standard Chinese or Mandarin, introduced to Taiwan in the post-war period as the national language. harizu 哈日族 (Chinese):  Japano-maniacs among Taiwanese youth, influenced by Japanese cultural products such as magazines, films, and television shows. honka 本科 (Japanese):  Three-year regular course at state primary schools for Micronesians.

202  Glossary hontōjin 本島人 (Japanese):  Name used in Taiwan during the Japanese administrative era to refer to the Han people, such as Hoklo (福佬) people or Minnan people (閩南人 Minnanren), originally from southern Fujian, as well as Hakka (客家) people. hoshūka 補習科 (Japanese):  Two-year supplementary course at state primary schools for Micronesians. Jaluit Atoll:  The southern part of the Rālik chain in the Marshall Islands. The political and economic centre of the Marshall Islands under the German and Japanese administrations. kaiseimei 改姓名 (Japanese):  A Japanese colonial policy giving Japanese names to colonial subjects in Taiwan. kanbun 漢文 (Japanese):  Japanised Classical Chinese, based on the use of kanji, through which the Japanese had accepted Chinese civilisation. It was also used to educate the Han people in Taiwan until the establishment of the Japanese language education system. kanji 漢字 (Japanese):  Adopted Chinese characters used in the Japanese writing system. katakana カタカナ (Japanese):  Japanese phonetic symbols for writing. Colonial subjects in the Empire of Japan were required to learn katakana from the start of primary school, as katakana is simple and easier to learn than kanji. kinrōhōshi 勤労奉仕 (Japanese):  Contribution of unremunerated labour for public work or, with, at best, minimal wages. kōgakkō 公学校 (Japanese):  State primary schools for Taiwanese and Micronesians. The Government-General of Taiwan established a six-year regular course, and a two-year advanced course (kōtōka). Nan’yō-chō established a three-year regular course (honka) and two-year supplementary course (hoshūka). kōmin 皇民 (Japanese):  Subjects of the Empire of Japan, analogically called the Emperor’s children (赤子 sekishi). kōminka 皇民化 (Japanese):  Making imperial subjects of the people through cultural assimilation. kōkoku 皇国 (Japanese):  Japanese Empire under the rule of the Emperor. kōkokushikan 皇国史観 (Japanese):  Emperor-centred historical view in modern Japan. kokugo 国語 (Japanese):  Japanese as the national language. It has also been the subject name for Japanese lessons at state primary schools from pre-war era and until the present. Colonial subjects in former Japanese overseas territories learned Japanese through the kokugo lessons. konketsuji 混血児 (Japanese):  Mixed-blood children. Those who were born to parents with different nationalities. Koror:  Name of both the island in Palau and its village. Nan’yō-chō, formerly the centre of Japanese administration in Nan’yō Guntō, was established here. At present, the main urban centre of the Republic of Palau.

Glossary  203 kōtōka 高等科 (Japanese):  Two-year advanced course in kōgakkō, established in Taiwan under the Japanese administration. kōtōjogakkō 高等女学校 (Japanese):  Female junior high school in the pre-war Japanese educational system. It formed a parallel to male junior high school (chūgakkō) and was set up in colonial Taiwan as a four-year course. kyōikuchokugo 教育勅語 (Japanese):  The Imperial Rescript on Education. Majuro Atoll:  A remote island in the southern part of the Ratak chain in the Marshall Islands, where the capital of the Republic of the Marshall Islands was established. Minnanren 閩南人 (Chinese):  The Minnan people, originally from southern Fujian, also called the Hoklo (福佬) people. Mokkō totei yōseijo 木工徒弟養成所 (Japanese):  The carpenter apprentice training school for Micronesians, established in Koror, Palau, under the Japanese administration. Mudanshe Incident 牡丹社事件:  Referring to either or both incidents in 1871 and 1874, involving indigenous Paiwan people. The former refers to the incident where Ryukyuan passengers from a wrecked ship were slain by natives. The latter refers to the military invasion and occupation of the Hengchun Peninsula by Commander-in-chief, Lieutenant General Saigo Tsugumichi. Naihonroku Incident 内本鹿事件:  The incident in which indigenous Bunun people attacked police stations in the mountains of Taitō after the implementation of the relocation policy in 1941. Nan’yō 南洋 (Japanese):  The South Seas, covering the islands and ocean surrounding Micronesia and South East Asia. Japan’s regional concept which had actualised the Southern Expansion Doctrine since the Meiji era. Nan’yō-chō 南洋庁 (Japanese):  The South Seas Government, or the Government-General of Nan’yō Guntō. Nan’yō Guntō 南洋群島 (Japanese):  The South Sea Islands. Former Germanheld territories in Micronesia, consisting of the Mariana Islands (except for Guam), the Caroline Islands, and the Marshall Islands. Nihongozoku 日本語族 (Japanese):  Japanese-speaking Taiwanese, raised and educated in the Japanese era, who use Japanese as their everyday language. Nikkeijin 日系人 (Japanese):  People of Japanese ancestry. The term generally refers to Japanese immigrants and their descendants in overseas countries. The descendants of those born to Japanese immigrants and colonial subjects in the overseas territories of former Japanese Empire are also occasionally called Nikkei or Nikkeijin. ochabōi お茶ボーイ (Japanese):  Tea-pouring boy. A term used to refer to young male Palauans employed in odd jobs around the office of Nan’yō-chō. renshūseiseido 練習生制度 (Japanese):  After-school hours ‘trainee system’ for Micronesian pupils from kōgakkō. The pupils went to the homes of government officials and staff in public enterprises to help with housework after school.

204  Glossary Riban 理蕃 (Japanese):  An administrative term referring to the control over the territory of indigenous people of Taiwan by the Government-General of Taiwan. Riban no tomo 理蕃の友 (Japanese):  A monthly journal published by the Government-General of Taiwan. Its articles reported various events related to the administration of the indigenous people of Taiwan. Saipan Jitsugyō Gakkō サイパン実業学校 (Japanese):  A higher educational institution established in Saipan under the Japanese administration. seinendan 青年団 (Japanese):  Young people’s associations often mobilised for kinrōhōshi. shūshin 修身 (Japanese):  Moral training, also the name of a subject at state primary schools, junior high schools, and others. It was the core of colonial education promoting the cultural assimilation policy. shōgakkō 小学校 (Japanese):  State primary schools for Japanese. Taihoku 台北:  Japanese imperial name for Taipei. The administrative centre where the headquarters of the Government-General of Taiwan was established. Takasago Giyūtai 高砂義勇隊 (Japanese):  Takasago Voluntary Corps. Soldiers were recruited or conscripted from indigenous people of Taiwan. They were sent to brutal battlefields such as New Guinea and the Philippines. Giyūtai literally means ‘volunteer soldiers’, reflecting Japan’s military ideology rather than historical fact. Takasago was an administrative term for some indigenous peoples of Taiwan formerly deemed ‘uncivilised’ but subsequently reformed by Japanese rule. tōmin 島民 (Japanese):  Islanders. The term used to refer to Micronesians regardless of their diverse ethnic origins. It was categorised into two groups: Chamorro and Kanaka. The former referred to the indigenous people of the Marianas. The latter, with a derogatory connotation, referred to other Micronesians. tōban 当番 (Japanese):  Taiwanese children’s live-in servants in Japanese homes. Pupils from primary schools for Taiwanese occasionally lived and worked in Japanese households as tōban. waishengren 外省人 (Chinese):  Persons or descendants of persons who came to Taiwan after World War II with the Kuomingtang. yidu 遺毒 (Chinese):  Negative evaluation of Japanese rule in post-war Taiwan. It literally means harm caused by Japanese administrative policies such as kōminka.

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics represent a figure. 228 incident 8, 153 aboriginal/aborigine 58, 62, 71, 186 – 187, 189 – 190, 195 aborigine children education centres (蕃童教育所 bandōkyōikusho) 58, 62 – 66, 72, 75n4 Aborigine Policy (理蕃 riban), (Outline for) 60, 62, 71, 203 Aborigine Policy Documents (理蕃誌稿) 62 agency 13, 73, 83, 89, 126, 141, 173 Ajeltake district, the 163, 166 – 167 alab, land managers in Marshallese, 160, 167, 177n2 ’Amis (阿美族), indigenous ’Amis people 83 – 84 anthropological theory on savage cultures 23 anthropology, cultural 3, 9, 138, 177, 197 anti-American sentiment 174 anti-Japanese 3, 8, 60, 62, 147, 153, 157n6, 189 Appadurai, Arjun, 81 Asianism 6 Asia-Pacific War, the 81, 83, 92 assimilation 5, 21, 58, 63, 84, 119, 121, 166 Austronesian 57, 61, 182 Azuma, Eiichiro 8 Babeldaob Island 120, 126, 201 Balandier, Georges 81 Barclay, Paul D. 2 Barlow, Tani E. 2 Bayaowan 183, 184, 193 Bayaowan Incident 198n6

Beitou Hot Spring Museum 143, 144 Belau National Museum 42, 45, 48, 54, 55n9 benshengren (本省人): 67 – 68, 100, 102, 105, 114, 114n3, 140, 142, 150 – 151, 153, 201 Bentuhua (本土化), cultural and historical awareness 22, 34 – 35, 140, 142, 151, 201 Bhabha, Homi 10 Bible, the 47, 51, 100, 103, 106, 112 Bikini Atoll, the 163, 174 blood line 52, 121, 132n13 Bonin Islands, the 121 Buddhist 25, 106 – 107 buildings, imperial-era see Japanese colonial-era buildings Bunun: compliance with the state 73; contact with the Japan’s rule 62; forced relocation 57 – 58, 59; generation 58, 61 – 63, 65 – 75, 75n3, 75n6; generational recall/nostalgia 11, 58, 61 – 70; religious authority weakened 60 – 61; skeptical acceptance 71 – 74, 75nn1 – 2, 75n5 Camacho, Keith 8, 43 Channa, Subhadra 9 Cenotaph for the War Dead (CWD) see monuments Chamorro 119, 131n5 Checheng Township Office 190, 197 Chen, Yuping 132n12 China: cultural superiority 2, 5, 14n8, 33 – 34, 95, 139; economic power of 61, 70, 74, 151; mainland 2, 61, 67 – 68, 72, 82, 85 – 86, 90, 93, 100, 102, 113, 137, 140, 151, 154 – 155

206  Index China’s representation 101 Chinese: language 13, 72, 91 – 92, 99, 101, 104 – 105, 140; literature 195 – 196; name 60; standard Chinese 60 Chinese characters (漢字 kanji) 5, 35, 93, 110, 160, 170 Chinese church, the 102 Chinese citizens (中華民族 Zhonghua minzu) 91, 94 Chinese Civil War 82, 150 Chinese civilisation 1, 5 – 6, 14n9, 14n10, 139 – 140, 150 – 151, 156, 196 Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 67, 150, 152, 153 Chinese Qin Association 147 Ching, Leo 2, 21 Chou, Wan-yao 82, 94, 198n7 Christian: church 61, 101 – 103, 109; events/celebrations 110; Inorinokai prayer group 102; mission/teachings 4 – 5, 61, 100 – 102; nursing homes 99, 106 – 107, 113; worship 7, 61, 65, 68 Christianity 1, 4, 7, 109, 109 – 110; Bible, and the 47, 51, 100, 103, 106, 112; influence of 4, 7, 33, 75n6, 109, 110 – 112; spirit of 12, 101 – 102, 105 – 107, 113 chūgakkō (中学校), male junior high school 24, 201, 203 civil administration 166, 169, 186 civilisation/civilising mission 1, 3, 7, 9, 21 – 22, 30, 33, 36n11, 95 Clifford, James 9 Cold War, the 131n6, 174 colonial: administration 14n9, 42, 44, 49, 53, 161, 166; authority 81, 92, 95, 99; experience(s) 1, 14n5, 42, 44 – 45, 58, 75n7, 82 – 83, 94, 96; modernity 2, 22, 81, 87 – 89, 92; period, education 10, 25, 29, 32, 35, 36n17, 63, 82, 90, 93, 139; period, historical sites 137, 140 – 143, 151 – 153, 156; period, violence 70, 82; policy 62, 146; power/powers 1, 7, 10, 14n5, 55n8, 57, 70, 82 – 83, 86 – 87, 92, 138, 161; rule 1, 5, 4, 8 – 11, 21 – 23, 32 – 35, 57 – 58, 60, 62, 64, 66 – 68, 70 – 74, 75n1, 75n3, 81 – 84, 89, 90 – 91, 94, 137 – 141, 145, 148 – 153, 155 – 156, 157n5, 161, 163; rule, Japanese 21 – 22, 33, 52, 57, 62, 66 – 67, 73, 82, 90 – 91, 94, 137 – 141, 145, 148 – 153, 153, 154 – 157n5, 161 colonialism 2 – 3, 9, 129, 131, 138 – 139; colonialism study(ies) 138; enlightened colonialism 13n1

colonisation 1, 4 – 5, 9, 14n2, 40, 42, 44, 47, 50, 52, 58, 82 – 83, 94, 180 Commander Saigo Memorial Monument Construction Committee 187 commemoration 13, 185 – 187, 189 – 190, 192, 195, 197 Communist Party on mainland China 90 Compact of Free Association, the 40 – 41, 155 Companion of Aborigine Policy (理蕃の 友) 62, 204 Confucianism 4, 34 – 35, 87; Confucian thought 23 contact zone 84, 180 Cooper, Frederick 2, 81 copra industry 169 – 170; coconut oil industry 170; coconut tree plantations 166; copra production 130, 175 Council for Cultural Affairs (Taiwan) 140, 141 Craucci, Laurence Marshall 129 Cribb, Robert 2 Crossover Generation: educational/ occupational changes 84, 87, 91, 94; governing power ties 84, 95; indigenous citizens 11, 83, 90, 96; language barriers 86, 92 cultural creation 1, 9 cultural heritage 137, 142 Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (Taiwan) 140 – 141 cultural homogeneity 6; cultural proximity 4 – 6; cultural similarities 5, 14n8, 34 – 35, 139 cultural identity 53, 119, 129 cultural tenet 44 – 45, 51 – 53 Cumings, Bruce 157n6 custom 7, 9 – 11, 14n9, 21 – 34, 46 – 48, 50 – 51, 108, 110, 191 Dahun Incident 62 Daikanzan Incident 62 daily life/lives 3, 6, 10, 21 – 23, 25, 30 – 32, 70, 101, 112, 143 Dainippon (大日本 Dainihon) 189 – 190, 201 Dandai Incident 62 Daoist 107 Darrit-Uliga-Delap, the (DUD) 163, 171 – 173 Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples of the United Nations 180 decolonisation 1 – 3, 7 – 9, 14n4, 81 – 82, 90, 96, 180 – 181, 196 – 197

Index  207 democracy 8, 49, 126, 131n6, 151 – 152; democratic political system 49, 52; democratisation 13, 21 – 22, 61, 66, 68 – 70, 73, 94, 101, 105, 115n10, 151, 181 – 182, 189, 195 Democratic Progressive Party (Taiwan) 61, 69, 181, 190 Dening, Greg 9 dialogue: with the colonial past 81, 96 discrimination: against benshengren 150 – 151, 153; against Palauans 50, 52; against Palauans of Japanese ancestry 129; against Taiwanese indigenous peoples 182, 185 docile bodies 95 Doumanis, Nicholas 157n3 economic development 12, 22, 70, 151, 153, 160, 163, 170, 172 – 173, 175 education: Japanese education 10, 21 – 23, 26 – 30, 32 – 35, 60 – 63, 66, 68 – 72, 91, 93, 145; Japanised education 11, 87; school education 10, 22 – 23, 27 – 28, 32, 67, 69, 87 – 89, 96n3, 97n6 egalitarianism 48, 52 Ejit islet 163, 174 Emperor: emperor-centred historical view (kōkokushikan) 23, 35, 202; Emperor’s children 6; Emperor’s subjects 60; Emperor Taisho 160, 165, 172; Emperor worship 7 Empire of Japan: culture, ruler and ruled 32, 92, 166, 186, 202; ethnic identity 118 – 119, 130 – 131; the Greater Japanese Empire 1; modern nationstate 82 – 83, 95 see also Japanese Empire Endo, Hisashi 6, 8, 15n11 Enewetak Atoll, the 174 English education 8 entanglement 9 – 10, 94 – 95 ethics 10, 22 – 23, 30, 33 – 34, 105 ethnic group 43, 71, 75n2, 83 – 85, 87, 180, 182 ethnic Japanese (Nikkeijin) 118 – 119, 122, 128 – 129 ethnocide/cultural genocide 180 – 181, 193, 196 European modernity 95 evacuation (to Japan) 129 expansionism of the suzerain (内地延長 主義) 21 exploitation: economic 3; cultural 67, 81, 145 external rulers 3

Falgut, Suzanne 129 Fanon, Franz 95 Federated States of Micronesia 2, 118, 155 First Sino-Japanese War 25, 81 Fisheries Agreement, the (Japan-Marshall) 168 fishery: food security for Japan 168 five-year military expedition (五箇年計画 理蕃事業) 58 foreign government: foreign power(s) 1, 3, 7, 10, 13, 14n3, 22 – 23, 32 – 33, 35, 57 – 58, 62, 66, 71 – 74, 75n7, 82, 84, 92, 94 – 95, 176, 181, 196; foreign rule 83; foreign ruler(s) 2, 11, 14n3, 35, 58, 60, 69 – 70, 72 – 74, 83 Foucault, Michel 95 Freely Associated State of the United States 40 – 41 Fujino, Yohei 11, 12, 109, 114 Fujian (福建) 27, 35n1, 113, 140, 152 Garapan 117 gengō (元号) 148 genshi-bakudan (原子爆弾) 41 – 42 German colonial rule in Micronesia 42, 51, 53, 117, 128 166 Germany 1, 40, 42, 129, 166 Gokokuji temple 186, 188 Government-General of Korea, the 150 Government-General of Nan’yō Guntō, the see Nan’yō-chō Government-General of Taiwan, the (台湾 総督府) 21, 58, 62, 99, 186 – 188, 196, 198n8 grave/gravestone 185 – 190, 192, 198n8 Guam, island of 1, 8, 43, 124 guominxiaoxue (國民小学 state primary school) 84, 201 see also state primary schools for Taiwanese guoyu, official Chinese language (國語) 91, 201 Gyokulan 111, 114; Seisho to Inori no Kai 100, 103, 110 Gyokulansou 12, 99; care for the elderly 103, 105, 111, 114; as a multilingual space 110; senior daycare centre 11, 99, 103, 115n7; social space, 12, 100, 102, 108, 110 – 114 Gyokulansou Dayori 100 – 101, 103, 104, 106, 108, 108, 111 – 112, 114; as multilingual media 104 Haisul 64, 66 Hakka/Hakka Chinese 35n1, 99 Halbwachs, Maurice 160

208  Index Hall, Stuart 95, 97n9 Han: Han people 5 – 6, 11, 14n3, 21 – 22, 33 – 34, 35n1, 36n10, 57 – 58, 60 – 61, 64 – 65, 67 – 68, 71 – 72, 74, 75n5, 83 – 85, 96n3, 113, 137, 139 – 140, 153, 180, 183, 187 – 188, 190, 196 Han, Chinese people 6, 11, 57, 61, 67, 71 – 72, 74, 83, 85 – 89 Hanlon, David 2 Hashiya, Hiroshi 6 Hawaii 9, 41, 163 He, I-lin/Yi-lin 8, 96n3 Hengchun Peninsula (恒春半島) 182 – 187 hierarchy 5, 21, 48, 50, 52, 95, 139 – 140 Hijikata, Hisakatsu 6, 46 Hinomaru 163 Hirano, Chikako 4 historical anthropology 9, 182 historical awareness 1 historical consciousness 61, 71, 73 – 74, 137, 140 historical recognition 3, 75n6, 180 – 181, 189, 195 – 196 Historical Sites in Taiwan and Fujian 140 Hoklo 35n1, 36n6, 113 – 114 honka (本科 regular course), three year primary school course for Micronesians 44, 120, 201 hontōjin (本島人), reference to Han peoples 35n1, 139, 202 Horie, Shunichi 139 hoshūka (補習科 supplementary course), two year supplementary course for Micronesians 44, 120, 202 Hsu, Pei-hsien 22, 90 Huang, Chih-huei 153, 154 Huang, Ying-kuei 73 Hung, Yuru 24 hygiene 23 – 24, 26, 28, 30 – 34, 139 Iitaka, Shingo 10, 12, 131, 152 Imperial Japan 2, 4, 82, 86, 157n6 Imperial Japanese Army, the 160 Imperial Rescript on Education, the (教育 勅語 kyōikuchokugo) 23, 27, 30 – 31, 34, 85, 139, 203 Imperial rule 3, 6, 7 imperial subjectification (皇民化 kōminka): in Taiwan 21, 27, 33, 60, 84; in Micronesia 33 imperialisation 72, 97n7 imperialism: Japanese imperialism 3, 131, 148, 151; Western imperialism 7, 9, 183

India/Indian 4, 9, 81 indigenous movement 68 – 70, 182; indigenism 11, 69; indigenous rights 61, 69, 182, 196 indigenous peoples 2, 6, 11, 14n3, 14n11, 57 – 58, 60 – 61, 64, 66 – 67, 69 – 70, 72 – 74; ’Amis 83 – 87, 89, 91, 94; as cute children 6; ethnic groups of Taiwan 2, 6, 11, 156n1, 182; Paiwan 13, 68, 70, 176, 181 – 187, 190 – 192, 194 – 197; rights of 61, 69, 182, 196; their autonomy 85, 182, 196; Yuanzhuminzu (原住民族) 182 International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) 141, 156 International Cultural Tourism Charter 141 iroij, chief in Marshallese 160, 167; Iroijlaplap (great chief in Marshallese) 169 Ishigaki, Naoki 11, 59, 55n8 Jabor 170 – 171 Jaluit Atoll, the 163, 170, 202 Japan: affinity towards Japan 152 – 153, 155; cultural influence 1, 4 – 6, 14n8, 21, 34 – 35, 95, 109, 119, 139, 154 – 156; detachable ‘Japan’ 137; economic development 151, 163, 170, 172 – 173; idealisation of Japan and the Japanese 168; image (view) of Japan or Japanese 34, 69 – 70, 73 – 74; Japanese cultural elements as remnants of the colonial rule 137; Japanese colonial era 8,12; Japanese era 2, 6, 13, 53, 57 – 58, 60, 101 – 103, 113, 140, 163, 168, 171 – 173, 176; Japanese period 2, 27 – 28, 29, 35, 53, 61, 110; Japanese time 50 ‘Japan’ 2, 10, 11, 12,13, 14n4 Japanese colonial-era buildings: de-Japanisation 12, 137, 142 – 143, 145 – 146, 152, 155 – 156, 180; externalization of 12, 137, 142, 150; imperial-era buildings 137; Japanese colonial period buildings 12, 137; negative internalisation of 137, 142 – 143, 149; positive internalisation of 12, 137, 142, 145 – 146, 150, 152, 155 Japanese colonialism 13, 138, 181, 196 Japanese colonisation 42, 44, 50, 52, 58, 82 Japanese-educated generation 12, 176 Japanese Empire: colonial era, buildings 12, 137 – 143, 143 – 148, 149, 149 – 150, 196; colonial era, national language 2,

Index  209 30 – 31, 60, 85, 91, 201, 202; colonial era, suppression/assimilation 5, 21, 58, 62 – 63, 84, 119, 121, 166, 202; colonial government 33, 58, 60, 62, 67; colonial rule 5, 10 – 11, 21 – 22, 33, 52, 57, 62, 66 – 68, 70 – 73, 138 – 140, 151; culture, establishment/demise of 6 – 7, 10, 23, 25, 43 – 44, 60, 69, 71, 122, 147, 151, 154; economic development monuments 12 – 13, 160; immigration policy/ promotion 117 Japanese forces and authorities 195 Japanese government 11 – 12, 72, 75n5, 126, 160, 163 – 164, 166, 168 – 172, 175 – 176, 177n4, 183 Japanese identity 2, 121 Japanese immigrants 117 – 120, 122 – 123, 125, 127, 174, 177n8 Japanese language, the 6, 8, 11 – 12, 15n11, 15n15, 22, 29, 32, 36n4, 74, 82, 86, 91, 99 – 102, 105 – 106, 111 – 113, 137, 139, 153 Japanese mandate over Nan’yō Guntō see mandate Japanese Navy administration 169 Japanese rule/regime 62, 182, 196 Japanese-speaking Taiwanese (日本語族) 33, 99 – 101, 105 – 107, 111, 113 – 114 Japanese spirit (日本精神 Nipponseishin) 60, 65, 71, 75n5, 82, 93 – 94, 122, 130, 139 Japanese soul (大和魂 Yamatodamashii) 82 Japanese syllabary 6 Japanese trading companies 173 Japanese wives (日本人妻) 11, 99 – 103, 105 – 107, 113 – 114 Japanisation: case studies, personal accounts 25 – 30; complex, defined as 21 – 22, 32 – 33; de-Japanisation 12, 137, 142 – 143, 145 – 146, 152, 155 – 156, 180; democratisation, legacy of 22 – 23, 61, 68 – 70, 73, 105, 151; education, major role player 10, 22, 23, 32; Japanised Classical Chinese see kanbun ‘Japanisation’ 10, 11 japano-maniacs (哈日族 harizu) 154, 201 Japan Overseas Christian Medical Cooperative Service (JOCS) 102, 109 Japan War-Bereaved Families Association, the (日本遺族会) 177n4 Kabua, Amata 118, 131n2, 167 kaiseimei (改姓名), name changing policy 26 – 27, 29, 202

kajur (commoners in Marshallese) 177n2 Kamizuru, Hisahiko 12, 14n8, 143 – 149, 176, 196 – 197 Kanaka 121 kanbun (漢文), Japanised Classical Chinese 5 – 6, 14n9, 185, 202 kanji (漢字), adaptation of Chinese language characters 5 – 6, 14n10, 15n11, 110, 127, 160, 201, 202 Kaohsiung (Gaoxiong) 70, 183 katakana (カタカナ), writing symbols, Japanese 65, 111, 127, 201, 202 Kawashima, Shin 14n6 Ke, De-san 15n16 Kibata, Yoichi 3 Kinmen 152, 155 kinrōhōshi (勤労奉仕), public or community service 47, 48, 48, 53, 202 Kitamura, Kae 75 KMT see Kuomintang Kobayashi, Izumi 131n3 kōgakkō (公学校) see state primary school for Taiwanese and state primary school for Micronesians kōkoku (皇国), the Empire see Empire of Japan kōkokushikan (皇国史観), emperorcentred historical view see Emperor kokugo (国語), Japanese national language 23, 85, 202 Kolonia 117 Komatsu, Kazuhiko 132n14 kōmin (皇民), subjects of the Empire 32 kōminka (皇民化), forced cultural assimilation 21, 27, 33, 58, 60, 63, 84, 88 – 91, 95, 202 konketsuji (混血児), mixed blood children 119 – 120, 202 Korean Peninsula 148, 150 – 151 Koror Island 126, 202 Koror Primary School for Micronesians 120 kōtōjogakkō (高等女学校), junior high for girls 24 – 25, 29, 36n7, 139, 203 kōtōka (高等科), two-year advanced course 83 – 84, 87 – 92, 202 Kuomintang (KMT): oppression 82, 86, 100, 140 – 141, 145, 150 – 151, 153 – 154, 156, 196; pro-KMT 69; reign of government 1 – 2, 8, 11, 21 – 23, 33 – 34, 61, 67, 91, 151, 180 – 181, 189 – 190; rule 12 14n3 Kurosaki, Takehiro 12, 162, 164, 165, 196 Kuskus (高士佛社, 高士村) 183 – 184, 186, 191 – 192, 193

210  Index Kwajalein Atoll, the 174 kyōikuchokugo (教育勅語) see Imperial Rescript on Education Laura district, the 163, 165 – 166, 168, 170, 172 – 173, 177nn6 – 7 Le Gendre, Charles William 183 League of Nations, the 13n1, 30, 117 Leclerc, Gérard 5 Lee, I-yun 154 Lee, Teng-hui 115, 140 Lianes. Punanang (Han name: Gao Jia-sin) 191, 192, 197, 198n13 Liao, Ping-hui 2, 82 lifestyle 22, 28, 30, 50, 52 – 53, 84, 151, 174, 176, 182 Lim, John Chuan-Tiong 157n6 Lin, Hsu-ta 141 Lin, Mao-sheng (Mosei) 22 Losheng Hansen’s disease Sanatorium (樂生療養院) 102 loyalty 23, 33, 95; to the Japanese nation and the emperor 23 lunar calendar 26, 28, 109 Macacukes gorge (石門) 183, 187, 189, 191, 193 Maeyama, Takashi 119 Majuro Atoll, the: economic development 160, 163, 170, 172 – 173, 175, 177; influence by United States 174 – 175; island, remote 163; monuments of 12, 160 mandate 7, 13n1, 30, 117, 161, 163, 165 – 166, 170; Japan’s mandate of Nan’yō Guntō 30, 161, 163 manners see sahō Marcus, George E. 9 Marianas, the 117, 119 marine grant aid (Japan-Marshall) 168 Marshallese: culture 174; radiation exposure 41 – 42, 174; youth 168, 171 Marshall Islands: economic centre 163, 170, 173; isolation after WWII 174, 176; monuments 12, 160, 165 – 166, 168, 171; two chains of 161, 162 Marshall Islands War-Bereaved Families Association of Japan 164, 177n4 Marshall Nikkeijin Kai (Association of the Marshallese of Japanese Ancestry) 131n7, 164, 177n5 Matsuda, Hiroko 145 Matsuda, Motoji 97 Matsuzawa, Kazuko 97n7

Meiji era 15n12, 186 Meiji government 183, 185 Meiji Restoration 5 Melekeok 44 – 45, 47, 52, 55n7 memorial service 51, 122 – 123, 125, 127, 129 – 130, 164 – 167, 169, 172, 177nn4 – 5, 186 – 188, 192 memory: collective memory 61 – 62, 112, 140, 161, 195; historical memory 8, 150; memories of others 43; realm(s) of memory 13, 181 – 182, 189 – 190, 195 – 196, 197n2 Micronesia: German/Germany 1, 117, 166; Japanese immigrants 117 – 120, 122 – 123, 125 – 127, 174, 177n8, 203; post-war culture of 6, 13, 23, 42, 44, 117 – 118; US administration 42, 49, 51, 122, 175 mimicry 10 Minnan language 91 – 92 Minnanren (閩南人), decedents of southern Fujian 35n1, 203 missile experiments 174 Mio, Yuko 75, 75n4, 131, 197, 197n1 Mita, Maki 6, 8, 11, 14n11, 15n15, 32, 36n16, 97n6, 152 Miyakojima 183, 184, 188, 192, 194, 197n3, 198n6 Miyaoka, Maoko 13, 176, 184, 193, 194, 197 Miyawaki, Hiroyuki 36n14 modern: education 22, 72, 87 – 88, 90; ideas 34; institutions 33 modernisation 5, 22, 94, 115n6, 138 – 139, 142, 148, 150 – 152, 156 modernity 2, 5 – 6, 22, 34, 81, 87 – 89, 92, 94 – 95, 139, 151, 156 Mokkō totei yōseijo (木工徒弟養成所), carpenter apprentice training school 119, 203 monuments: Cenotaph for the War Dead (CWD) 160, 163, 164, 164, 166 – 169, 172 – 173, 175; evocative power of 161; Love and Peace 192, 194, 194, 195; Monument to Imperial Graciousness (MIG) 160, 165, 165, 166, 169 – 171, 173, 175; war memorial 123 – 124, 129 morality 22 – 23, 27, 32 moral training (修身 shūshin) 23, 85, 89 Morris, Andrew D. 2, 23, 82, 97n9 Mountain blood Brothers (山地同胞) 60 Mudanshe Incident (牡丹社事件) 13, 180 – 181, 183 – 185, 187, 189 – 192, 193, 194, 194 – 196, 198n7, 198n10, 198n13

Index  211 Mudanshe Incident Memorial Park 192, 194 Mudan Township 181, 184 – 185, 191 – 192, 194, 197, 197n3 Mudan Village Incident Memorial Day 194 multi-layered: multi-layered colonial experiences 9, 57,70, 71, 74, 83, 181; multi-layered foreign power 7, 9, 32; multi-layered foreign rule 11, 14n5; multi-layered governance 2; multilayered foreign authorities 57 – 58, 71, 73 – 74, 83, 95 – 96; multi-layered history 152, 176, 181; multi-layered regimes of foreign governments 3; multiple imperial domination 8; multiple regimes 8 multilingual: Gyokulansou Dayori as multilingual media 104; Gyokulansou as a multilingual space 110 Mun, Eun 142 Murray, Stephan 43 Musha Incident (霧社事件) 60, 62, 67 Myers, Ramon 2 Nagasaki 41 – 43, 126 Naha 184, 186, 188, 192, 197n3 Naihonroku Incident (内本鹿事件), attack of Bunun against police stations 62, 64 – 65, 203 Nakamura, Kuniwo 118, 120, 131n2, 132n12 Nakayama, Tosiwo 118, 131n2, 132n12 Nakao, Katsumi 157n6 Nanjing Massacre 67 Nantou 58, 64, 72 Nan’yō (南洋 South Seas, the) 166, 203 Nan’yō-chō (南洋庁), South Seas Government (Government-General) 30 – 31, 50, 52, 55n7, 117, 119 – 120, 126, 166, 203 Nan’yō Guntō (南洋群島): anthropological theory of 1 – 3, 6 – 8, 10, 12 – 13; educational processes 23, 30 – 32, 36n13; ethnic identity 119, 121, 177n8; mandate of 13n1, 30; Nan’yō Guntō islanders 1, 6 – 7, 117, 129; ruling powers 137, 148, 150 – 152, 161, 163, 166, 169, 174 Narangoa, Li 2 narrative 10 – 12, 15n13, 21 – 22, 35, 40, 43 – 47, 49 – 54, 57 – 58, 61 – 62, 66, 70 – 72, 74, 94, 119, 121, 130, 137, 140, 153, 176 national consciousness 66, 151 national history 13, 15n17, 180 – 181 nationalisation 58, 67 – 69, 71

nationalism 27, 32, 34, 60, 74, 97n9, 142 national/official language: Japanese (国語 kokugo) 2, 23, 31, 85; Taiwanese (國語 guoyu) 30, 91 national memory 180, 189 National Mobilisation Law (kokkasōdōinhō) 121 national Shinto religion 7 nation-building 180 – 181 nation-state 82, 180, 182 nativistic movement 61 Navy Cemetery (海軍墓地 Kaigunbochi) 122 neo-colonialism 7 Ngirmang, Gabriela 41 – 43, 54n1 Nihongozoku 203 Nikkeijin (日系人), Japanese immigrants and decedents 118 – 119, 177n5, 203 Nipponseishin (日本精神) Japanese spirit 65, 82, 139, 151 Nishimura, Kazuyuki 11 Noguchi, Masaaki 121 Nonaka, Fumio 121, 123 Nora, Pierre 160, 197n2 Northern Mariana Islands 8, 43 nostalgia 11, 22, 71 – 72, 74, 82, 101, 108, 111; nostalgic narrative 130, 141 – 142, 153 nuclear testing 41 – 42, 174 Numazaki, Ichiro 14n3 ochabōi (お茶ボーイ), tea-pouring boy 126, 203 ODA (Official Development Assistance) 163, 167 – 169, 173, 175; financial support 168; Japan’s re-expansion to Majuro Atoll 169 Oda, Shigeru 15n16 Office for Indigenous Peoples (Taiwan) 61 Ohzaka Incident 62 Okinawa 49 – 50, 65, 117, 124 – 125, 127, 132n11, 157n6, 188, 192, 197n3 Okinawan 14n11, 50 – 51, 117, 188 – 189; Okinawan People’s Association in Taihoku 188; Palau Association in Okinawa (Okinawa Palau Kai) 124 – 125, 132n11 oral history 54n1, 195 Ortner, Sherry B. 73 Pacific War, the 81, 83, 92, 121, 124, 127; social change after 118; 122: see also the Asia-Pacific War Paiwan (排湾族) 13, 68, 70, 97n7, 176, 181 – 187, 189 – 192, 194 – 197, 197n5

212  Index Palau: Belau 40 – 52, 54; comparison with Taiwan, 150 – 152, 154 – 156; hierarchy 48 – 49, 50, 52; matrilineal society 123, 128, 132n14 Palauan(s) 14n11, 40, 41, 43 – 44, 46 – 47, 50 – 54, 55n7, 128 – 129; kin group 128 – 129 Palauans of Japanese ancestry: mixedbloods (konketsu 混血) 119; mixedblood children (konketsuji 混血児) 120; ainoko 119, 128; Nikkei 12, 119, 122, 128 – 129 Palau Constitutional Convention 40 Palau Islands 117, 120 Palau Sakura Kai (Palau Cherry Blossom Association): establishment of 122 – 124, 128, 130; membership of 125; social capital of 129 Peace Corps, the 131n6, 174 Peace Memorial Park (Marshall) 163, 167, 171 Peattie, Mark R. 2 Peleliu 43, 123 – 124, 126 People’s Republic of China, the (PROC) 150, 153, 155, 156, 176 Pinayuanan language 182, 190, 192 Pingtung County, the 182 – 185, 189 – 191, 197n3 police officer 27, 63 – 64, 66, 71, 75nn1 – 2, 75nn4 – 5, 96n4 policy of assimilation: colonial assimilation policies 5 see also assimilation post-colonial: cultural and historical recognitions 3; post-colonialism 2 – 3; theory 10 Poyer, Lin 129 practical past 194 Presbyterian Church, the 101 – 103, 109 Presidential Office for Indigenous Historical Justice and Transitional Justice Committee (Taiwan) 181 pro-Japanese (shinnichi) 21, 63, 65 – 67, 70 – 71, 118 – 119, 122, 127, 130 – 131; Japanophile 127, 130; pro-Japan sentiment 82, 152 – 153 Protestant Church 102 public space 87, 99 Qing Dynasty 13n1, 14n3, 57, 81, 84, 87, 100, 101, 182 – 184, 186, 190; government, army 186 Qing period, the 2 Qingtian 76, 145, 145, 146

racism 49, 50 recalled past 43 reconciliation 192, 194 – 195 Red House 146, 146 religion 4, 7, 12, 60, 105; religious concept 61; religious ethics 105 relocation policy 58, 62 – 65; land 61, 68, 73; land rights 58, 62 – 63 renshūseiseido (練習生制度), after-school trainee program 32, 203 Republic of China, the (ROC): control over Taiwan 8, 11, 57 – 58, 60 – 61, 65 – 66, 68 – 74; educational policies 33, 67, 69, 70 – 74; historical perspective 139 – 141, 145, 150 – 153, 155 – 156, 157n5 Republic of Palau, the 40 – 41, 120 Republic of the Marshall Islands, the (RMI) 131, 161, 162, 163, 166 – 168, 174, 177n5, n7 reservation 58, 60 resistance (resistant, revolt, uprising) by the indigenous peoples of Taiwan 58, 60, 62, 64, 66, 69 – 71, 73 Riban (理蕃 riban) see Aborigine Policy Riban no tomo see Companion of Aborigine Policy rijerbal, workers in Marshallese 160, 167, 177n2 ri-Mājro, Majuro people 13, 160 – 161, 166 – 173, 175 – 177, 177n1 Ryukyuans Incident, 184 – 185, 187 – 188, 198n13 Ryukyu Domain (琉球藩) 185 – 186 Sahlins, Marshall 9 sahō (作法 manners) class 24 – 25, 28 Said, Edward 9 Saigo Army Invasion 183, 185 – 187, 198n13 Saigo, Tsugumichi (Saigō Jūdō 西郷従道) 183, 185 – 189, 203 Saipan 117, 124, 126, 131n3 Saipam Jitsugyō Gakkō (サイパン実業学校), institute of higher education 124, 204 Saito, Hisafumi 43 Sakura, Magozo 14n9 savage 1, 6 – 7, 23, 51, 72 Second Opium War, the 101 Second Sino-Japanese War 88, 101, 139, 152 seinendan (青年団), young people’s group 119, 187, 204

Index  213 Seion-Kinenhi, the (MIG) 160, 165, 165, 166, 169 – 171, 173, 175 self-governance 73 – 74 self-recognition 10, 22, 35, 73 Shimizu, Akitoshi 180 – 181 Shinto 7, 25, 33; Shinto shrine 25, 27, 29, 31, 33, 139, 190 shōgakkō, state primary schools for Japanese see state primary schools for Japanese shūshin (修身), moral training 23 – 24, 29 – 30, 33 – 35, 85, 204 Sichong River 183, 192, 193 Sinicisation of Taiwan 65, 68, 73, 82 Sinvaudjan (牡丹社, 牡丹村) 183 – 184, 186, 191 – 192, 193 Sinyi Township 57, 67, 69 skipjack and tuna 168 solar calendar 25 – 27, 29, 109, 183 South Korea 12, 137 – 138, 142, 145, 148 – 155, 157n4 South Seas Government, the (SSG) see Nan’yō-chō Spain 1, 40, 42, 57, 114n6 state primary schools for Japanese (shōgakkō 小学校) 23, 25, 36n4, 44, 49 – 50, 118, 204 state primary schools for Micronesians (公学校 kōgakkō) 30 – 32, 44 – 45, 118; honka (本科 regular course) 30, 36n12, 120, 201; hoshūka (補習科 supplementary course) 36n12, 44, 120, 202 state primary schools for Taiwanese: under Japanese rule (公学校 kōgakkō) 23, 25, 28, 36n4, 83, 187; under KMT rule (國民小学 guominxiaoxue) 84, 201 Suenari, Michio 75n1, 96n4 Sung, Siu-huan 75n3 Taihoku (台北) 188, 204 Taihoku Imperial University 75n5, 145 Taipei Anho Presbyterian Church (台灣基 督長老教會安和教會) 103 Taipei City Government’s Department of Cultural Affairs 140, 141, 147 Taipei Eastgate Church (台灣基督長老教 會台北東門教會) 102 – 103 Taipei Qin Hall 147, 148, 149 Taipei Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) 102 Taipei Zhongshan Hall 146, 147 Taitung/Taitung County 58, 62, 66, 70, 72, 75, 182

Taiwan: aborigine education 58, 62 – 66, 72, 75n4; colonial era of 10, 22 – 24, 27, 35n3; cultural proximity 5 – 6, 85, 139 – 140, 155; decolonisation of 1 – 3, 7 – 8, 14n4, 82, 137, 180; economic development 153 – 156; hierarchy 5, 21, 95, 139 – 140; independence movement 7 – 8, 13, 101; post-colonial era 9 – 10, 81 – 82, 95 – 96, 96n1, 113; suzerain expansion 21 – 22, 119, 121 Taiwan Expedition, the 183 Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall 143, 144 Taiwanese church, the 102 – 101 Takasago Giyūtai (高砂義勇隊 Takasago Voluntary Corps) 60, 63 – 64, 75n5, 204 tanka (短歌), Japanese-style poetry 100 – 101 textbook 13, 23 – 24, 31 – 33, 36n14, 91, 139, 148, 184, 195 Thomas, Nicholas 9 Tierney, Robert Thomas 2, 6 tōban (当番), live-in servants 85, 204 tokonoma alcove 147, 149 tōmin (島民), islanders 30, 44, 49, 204 Toshiyo village Incident 62 tradition 7, 9, 11, 15n13, 45 – 53, 108, 110, 196 traditional political system 49, 52 transculturation 96, 97n9 transitional justice 181, 197 Treaty of Tianjin, the 101 Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands, the 123 – 124, 126, 163 Tsai, Chin-tang 33 Tsai Ing-wen administration 61, 74, 181 typhoon 160, 165 – 166, 169 – 170, 175 Ueno, Hiroko 10, 36n5, 139 United Nations 7, 40, 163, 168, 174, 180 United Nations Trust Territory 40, 168, 174 United States, the 7 – 8, 11 – 12, 14n6, 40 – 42, 47, 49, 51 – 52, 129, 150 – 156, 157n5, 168, 171 – 172, 174 – 176; possession and influence 1, 7 – 8, 12, 23, 32, 40 – 42, 47, 49 – 51; US administration in Marshall Islands, the influence of American culture 168, 171; US/American administration in Palau 42, 49, 51, 122, 131n6 Valjluk, Mavaliu (Han name: Hua A-cai) 191, 197, 198n12

214  Index waishengren (外省人), 67, 84, 86, 100, 102, 114n4, 141, 204 Wang, David Der-wei 2, 82 Western education and morals 174 Western imperialism 7, 9 white terror/terrorism 8, 153 World War II, after 58, 60, 63, 65, 67, 72, 74, 140 – 141, 143, 145 – 146, 151; language barriers 99 – 100; political systems 52, 60; power struggles 1 – 3, 7 – 8, 11, 13 Yamaji, Katsuhiko 6, 138 Yamanaka, Kikori 187, 198n8

Yanaihara, Tadao 131n4 Yang, Shu-yuan 72, 73 Yanping Township 58, 64, 68 Yap 148 Yasukuni Shrine 31, 65, 70 yidu (遺毒), harm caused by Japanese rule 91, 204 Yoshioka, Masanori 43 – 44, 54n3 young people’s associations see seinendan Zelenietz, Marty 43 Zero fighter pilot 102 zoo policy 174