From an Island to Be Seen to an Island That Speaks: Reinterpreting Amami through a more-than-human lens

Five years have passed since Amami Ōshima was registered as a UNESCO World Natural Heritage site. The islands have attracted national and international attention, visitor numbers have increased, and new conservation systems are gradually being put in place. At the same time, a quiet but persistent question has been spreading among those living and working on the ground: Is this really the direction we should be heading in?

My research in Amami has focused primarily on local tour guides and their perspectives on how tourism is changing the islands and affecting community life. What became clear is that UNESCO designation can function both as a “brand” and as a “shield”. In other words, it is truly a double-edged sword.

I would like to deepen that discussion by drawing on the work of environmental philosopher David Abram. Through Abram’s framework, what UNESCO designation ultimately forces us to confront is not simply the question of how the island should be presented, but rather how we should rebuild our relationship with the island itself.

Nature Is Not Scenery, It Is Something That Speaks

In his influential book The Spell of the Sensuous, David Abram argues that modern societies have gradually lost the ability to engage in “conversation” with the natural world by treating nature as something to be looked at, an object, a background, a view.

But forests and seas are not merely scenery. Bird calls, humid winds, the smell of tides, the movement of clouds, these are not passive details. They are forms of “language,” signals through which the island communicates.

Amami’s natural world speaks constantly: through the tracks of the Amami rabbit, the seasonal cycles of the Ryukyu ayu fish, the changing colors of the sea after a typhoon, the density of night darkness. People who have long lived here have learned to read these shifts not as abstract “information,” but as embodied, sensory knowledge.

However, with UNESCO registration, Amami is now at risk of rapidly transforming, from an island that speaks to those who live with it, into an island that exists mainly to be seen by outsiders.

What Cruise Ship Tourism Revealed: Visitors Who Came to See, But Did Not Truly Meet the Island

One of the most striking scenes during my research involved cruise ship visitors arriving in Amami. After disembarking, many wandered into Naze without a clear destination, searching for souvenir shops, taking photos, and then returning to the ship a few hours later. Their time on the island was brief, their contact shallow, and their presence never truly intersected with the island’s rhythm.

This is not to blame them, most were likely eager to enjoy the island. Yet from Abram’s perspective, their experience lacked something essential: bodily participation in place.

Amami became something to be consumed visually, while tourists became mere spectators passing through. There was little opportunity to listen to the island’s voice—its silence, smells, subtle atmospheres, and hidden presences.

When this type of tourism expands, an island risks shifting from being a lived place into a photographic stage.

Guides Are Not Simply “Tour Leaders”—They Are Translators of the Island

Throughout my interviews, many guides expressed a shared belief: “It is not enough to explain Amami. Visitors must feel Amami.”

Abram’s philosophy helps us understand why this is so significant. A guide is not simply someone who provides facts. A guide is someone who helps form a relationship between visitors and the living landscape.

Guides teach how to walk through the forest.They explain what a bird’s call might mean.They create moments of silence and pause.They do not only restrict access, they communicate why certain places must be respected.

These actions are not just services. They are acts of translation, enabling visitors to receive what the island is communicating. Guides play a vital role in ensuring that Amami remains Amami.

Yet despite their importance, guiding work remains unstable and undervalued. Many guides feel deep responsibility for protecting the island, while struggling with uncertain income and limited recognition.

If UNESCO designation is truly to serve conservation, then support for this work—this bridge between humans and the more-than-human world—is just as necessary as legal protection frameworks.

When Shimauta Becomes a “Show,” What Do We Lose?

Perhaps nothing illustrates the tension between tourism and culture more clearly than shimauta (traditional Amami island songs). Shimauta was not originally something performed on a stage. It emerged from daily life, was passed down through community gatherings, and resonated within the rhythms of work and place.

However, as tourism grows, shimauta increasingly becomes something expected as entertainment—an attraction for visitors.

Abram would describe this shift as a transformation from a “culture of voice” into a “culture of spectatorship.” Shimauta is not simply a song about nature; it is a form of response to nature. It carries the lived sensations of wind, sea, seasons, and labor. It is part of how islanders have spoken back to their world.

When shimauta becomes fixed into staged performances, it may appear preserved, but its essence can quietly thin out. What was once a living voice of everyday life risks becoming a packaged cultural product.

Kenmun Is Not Superstition—It Is the Island’s Wisdom of Boundaries

One fascinating point in my research was how guides and local cultural actors considered using the figure of kenmun (a mischievous forest spirit) as a way to communicate warnings to visitors—“That place is kenmun territory, so be careful.”

This is not merely playful folklore. It reflects a deeper island logic.

Abram argues that spirits and non-human presences often function as cultural technologies for respect. They mark boundaries, places where humans should not intrude too freely. In this sense, kenmun is not simply an imaginary character, but part of a cultural system that teaches people where to slow down, where to behave differently, and where not everything belongs to human access.

World heritage management cannot rely only on regulations and signs. Amami’s own inherited ways of shaping behavior, through stories, imagination, and cultural reverence, may be among the most powerful tools for conservation.

Preserving “Inconvenience” Is a Way of Protecting the Island

Tourism becomes easier when everything is convenient. But in Amami, many people expressed the opposite view, that it is important not to make the island too easy.

For example, not allowing unrestricted entry into every forest; increasing areas where certified guides are required, or avoiding infrastructure that makes access instant and effortless.

Such approaches are not anti-tourism. They are deliberate strategies to ensure Amami remains itself.

From Abram’s viewpoint, nature should not be reshaped to match human convenience. Instead, humans must adapt to nature’s rhythm in order to form real relationships with it. When trails are difficult, when weather disrupts plans, when the forest does not immediately “reveal” itself. These are not failures, but rather the island’s way of saying: I am not a product.

UNESCO registration should not merely encourage tourism expansion. It should also strengthen the value of this “inconvenient dignity.”

UNESCO Is a Source of Pride but Also a Warning

The words “World Heritage” carry a bright and celebratory tone: pride, value, global recognition. That is certainly true. But UNESCO registration is also a warning: this nature is fragile.

Amami’s forests appear strong. The sea looks vast. The island feels quiet and enduring. Yet that quietness is not guaranteed forever. Tourism pressure, development, external investment, and even our own gradual “getting used to” change can slowly make the island’s voice harder to hear.

Tourism may bring economic benefits. But if local life and culture become museum displays, Amami risks becoming something else entirely. The island may shift from being a place where people live into a place that people merely come to view.

An Invitation to the Future: Not Just to Visit, But to Listen

Five years after UNESCO registration, Amami now stands at a turning point. The next stage is not simply about increasing visitor numbers. It is about cultivating a different kind of tourism—one that encourages visitors to ask: How should we relate to this island?

Amami’s nature is not merely something to be protected.Amami’s culture is not merely something to preserve.

It is about listening to the forest’s voice.Not only “watching” shimauta, but singing with others.Not dismissing kenmun stories as jokes, but recognizing them as boundary wisdom.Not seeing inconvenience as poor service, but understanding it as the island’s dignity.

These small shifts in attitude can transform UNESCO designation from a label into a living future.

Amami is not an island meant only to be seen.Amami is an island meant to be encountered.

With UNESCO recognition as both a tailwind and a warning, we must now choose whether the island will become a global product, or remain a place where nature and culture continue to speak, and where humans can still learn to listen.

What Amami can truly be proud of is not only its beautiful biodiversity, but also the cultural sensibility that has allowed islanders to live with nature for generations.

That sensibility itself may be Amami’s most precious world heritage.