[Feature: Rethinking Zoos] Similar Yet Different: Japanese vs. Western Zoos—From the Perspectives of Wildlife Conservation and Animal Welfare

Over the past three years or so, issues such as dolphin hunting in Taiji and the World Association of Zoos and Aquariums (WAZA), as well as the increasing difficulty of obtaining exhibit animals, have been covered by the media, and special news programs about zoos have begun to be produced. While I believe this is a positive trend, there is one thing that concerns me. That is, everything begins and ends with human convenience, and a perspective from the animals' side is lacking. Specifically, there are two perspectives: the balance with declining wild populations and the welfare of the zoo animals themselves. One cannot talk about zoos without these.

In the West, the problem of wildlife decline and extinction and the need for protection were recognized in the 19th century, and zoos that stated wildlife conservation as their purpose of establishment, such as the Bronx Zoo in New York where my desk is located, had already appeared. After World War II, as industrial society grew rapidly, pollution problems became prominent, and concerns were raised about the impact of the Vietnam War on the natural environment. As awareness of environmental protection grew and the decline of wildlife became even clearer, criticism intensified that zoos, as consumers of wildlife, were playing a role in their decline. For example, when capturing gorillas from the wild, infants are caught because adults are difficult to tame and adapt. This means that the infant's mother and the silverback (mature male gorilla) trying to protect the troop are killed. Furthermore, many of the infants captured in this way die before leaving their country of origin or during export. Calculations began to be made regarding how many sacrifices were made behind a single gorilla in a zoo.

For this reason, a shared awareness emerged that zoos must not only create a system for self-sufficiency by making efforts to continuously breed animals but also become institutions for saving endangered species. Large zoos in Europe and elsewhere, which had collected flora and fauna from colonies during the imperialist era and competed solely on the number of species, were forced to change direction to reduce the number of species in order to increase the population of each species and maintain breeding groups. In 1972, the first international conference on the captive breeding of rare animals was held. For reference, the first edition of Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring" was published in '62, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency was established in '70, and Japan's Environment Agency was newly established in '71.

Therefore, I first want people to know the fact that the idea that "zoo animals can just be caught from the wild as needed or bought from dealers" had already ceased to be internationally acceptable shortly after the Osaka Expo.

As scientific and organizational management progressed toward maintaining breeding groups, it became clear that inbreeding caused declines in breeding and survival rates. Coinciding with advances in population genetics, basic guidelines were created, such as how many unrelated individuals are initially needed to maintain a population while keeping genetic diversity at an appropriate level, and how many individuals are needed over how many generations while breeding them in a balanced combination. Since breeding lifespan, frequency, gestation/incubation periods, and the number of offspring/eggs per birth vary by species, such management naturally requires the accumulation of basic data, and above all, the conditions for continuous breeding must be known. Unlike domesticated animals, basic data is not readily available, so this task is not as simple as the average person might think. For example, among African rhinos, black rhinos will breed even if kept as a single male-female pair, but white rhinos will not breed unless kept in a herd in a large area to induce the male's herding behavior.

Executing such a plan requires multiple facilities to cooperate, exchange, and hold animals together as a prerequisite. For this reason, the Association of Zoos and Aquariums (AZA) in the United States started a program called the Species Survival Plan, or SSP, in the early 1980s. What shocked me most when I first learned about this program was that the target number of years to maintain the target species was set at 200 years. I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the philosophy that after 200 years, a conclusion would be reached as to whether an environment where these animals can live in the wild still remains. In reality, since the number of individuals, generations, and space required to maintain them for 200 years differ completely between, say, an elephant and a mouse, the target is now revised to 100 years or 10 generations or more depending on the species, with the standard being to maintain genetic diversity at 90% or higher during that time.

Deciding which individuals to breed with which can no longer be done haphazardly. Coordinators are appointed for each species or closely related taxonomic group, and they issue recommendations as necessary, such as moving an animal to another zoo to attempt breeding with a different individual, or requesting that no more offspring be taken from a certain pair (the system is designed so that orders cannot be given due to the circumstances of individual zoos). Even when an animal is needed, it is customary to start by consulting the coordinator to see if there are surplus individuals somewhere that meet the requirements for the desired individual or if there is an appropriate individual as a breeding partner.

As a result of these efforts, the number of institutions keeping species that were once rarely seen, such as the snow leopard, has increased dramatically. For Western lowland gorillas, the last time wild individuals were brought to zoos was probably in the 1960s, and almost all individuals in zoos today were born in zoos. In the beginning, even in the West, institutions often showed resistance to having to send their popular animals elsewhere, but today, the impression is strong that the awareness of ownership by each institution over individual animals has faded considerably. It is no exaggeration to say that zoo animals are maintained and managed precisely as shared assets.

My knowledge of animal welfare in general is limited, but the rising tide of emphasis on animal welfare in Western society seems to correspond with the rising environmental awareness of the 1960s and 70s. In the United States, criticism of research activities using great apes at the Yerkes National Primate Research Center began around this time, and in the 80s, criticism erupted over the keeping conditions of the gorilla Willie B. at the Atlanta Zoo and the gorilla Ivan, who was kept at a shopping center in Tacoma, Washington. Both were magnificent silverback males, but they were kept alone in a single indoor room. It was, so to speak, solitary confinement. For this reason, the Atlanta Zoo completely renovated its housing and exhibit facilities so that gorillas could live in groups in outdoor paddocks with vegetation. Ivan also eventually moved to the Atlanta Zoo via Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo. From around this time, significant changes in gorilla management methods and accompanying facility reviews spread to zoos everywhere.

Besides great apes, elephants and cetaceans were strongly affected. Both are highly intelligent and highly social animals. Regarding elephants, not only did the use of bullhooks for taming become a target of condemnation, but criticism intensified that keeping elephants—who naturally live in family groups except for adult males—alone was contrary to welfare. Furthermore, in regions where indoor housing is required throughout the cold winter, the cramped nature of facilities became an issue. Additionally, since zoos themselves had set the major premise of maintaining exhibit animals with individuals bred in captivity, it became necessary to transition to a system capable of maintaining breeding groups and to make keeping multiple individuals the principle at a minimum. Male elephants become aggressive and difficult to handle during musth, and facilities to isolate males are required, so many zoos did not keep male elephants, but that was no longer an option. As a result, several exhibits on a scale that can truly be called mammoth facilities have been built in the West today.

Regarding dolphins, the movie "The Cove," which condemns the dolphin drive hunts in Taiji, is well known in Japan, but behind its production lies the philosophy of people trying to end not just drive hunts but the captive display of cetaceans itself. In 2013, the movie "Blackfish," featuring orcas at SeaWorld in the U.S., was released in America, which not only dealt a significant blow to SeaWorld's management but also spread negative opinions about orca exhibits among administration and politicians. This March, seven directors of the Vancouver Park Board in Canada unanimously supported a motion to change bylaws to ban the import and captive display of cetaceans by aquariums. Circuses have been under criticism for a long time, and Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey finally decided to go out of business.

Even with cooperative breeding, one cannot rest easy just because a system is in place. For example, one unavoidable problem in maintaining breeding groups over the long term is the issue of surplus individuals. There was a time when the Association of Zoos and Aquariums in the U.S. debated whether to cull surplus individuals, but the conclusion was that, in light of the zoo's function of fostering a love for animals, there was no choice but to make lifelong care the principle. If an animal must be transferred, care must be taken regarding the destination. This is because if an animal ends up being taken in by an unscrupulous facility, no matter how much the management standards at member institutions are raised, arrows of criticism will fly, saying, "You are sending animals to such a terrible place."

In this way, zoos and aquariums in the West (including Australia hereafter) have long been exposed to critical selective pressure from general society, so their management systems and facilities have continued to evolve in response. Exhibits have been designed to look as close to the natural environment and as spacious as possible, considering the public image as well as responding to changes in management methods, and poorly perceived cages and bars have been avoided as much as possible. Conservation efforts have pursued not just breeding and research at the zoo, but how they can contribute to conservation activities in the countries of origin (in-situ conservation). Surveys are repeatedly conducted to gather data on whether visiting a zoo improves knowledge or awareness of the environment and whether zoos are meaningful to society. In the West, where voices have even begun to question the social raison d'être—the social license—of zoos as facilities, it is no exaggeration to say that this is an industry-wide management effort for survival.

On the other hand, in Japan, zoos and aquariums are accepted almost uncritically, so compared to Western zoos, evolution has stopped at the bare minimum.

Another reason evolution has stopped is the fundamental difference in management systems. Very few people in Japan have likely seriously considered what the role of a zoo is in the first place. Among zoo professionals, four points are recognized as the current global standard for the role of a zoo: recreation, education, research, and wildlife conservation. I have long called these "the mantra." This is because these roles are a recognition born under the Western social environment described so far, and Japanese zoos are not structured as organizations to fulfill these roles. In the first place, Japanese public zoos are operated within the framework of parks, so it is difficult to take on multi-faceted roles within a vertically structured administration. It was only after living in the U.S. that I clearly understood that Western zoos and Japanese zoos are similar yet different, except for the fact that they exhibit wild animals. Especially in the U.S., the system of public-private partnership for highly public projects supports the country, so the business model itself is quite different from Japan.

First, regarding personnel, the heads of Western zoos are basically biologists or veterinarians (in recent years, some facilities have adopted a diarchy of animal management and non-animal business management). Moreover, many have accumulated long experience in zoos and related facilities and have served as directors for decades. Animal management in large facilities is also carried out by curators who usually hold degrees in specific taxonomic groups such as mammals, birds, amphibians, and reptiles. It is normal for the education department to have its own specialized curators, who do not just provide programs for visitors within the park but also take multi-faceted approaches such as visiting nearby schools or organizing programs for teachers. Many programs within the park are also fee-based, and it is not uncommon for them to grow into businesses that are profitable on their own. Conservation is as I have already written, and many curators fly around domestically and internationally for conservation activities in countries of origin and various conferences.

On the other hand, what about Japan? Many people might think that a zoo director must be an animal expert, but there are almost no people in Japan who can be called so-called zoologists. Since most zoos are public, personnel changes are carried out according to administrative practices. As a result, assignments change every few years. While efforts may be made to appoint someone with zoo experience as director, when no suitable person is available, it is not uncommon for someone from the faculty of agriculture or veterinary medicine who was at a forestry or agricultural experimental station to become director. It is not that all such people are unqualified—I respect many of them—but you can imagine that this approach has its limits when considering long-term quality improvement of the business and the constantly changing social environment. This applies not only to directors but also to department and section heads.

As for the actual keeping sites, even in zoos in cities of a million people, they are sometimes treated as blue-collar labor. There is only one computer at the section head's desk, and keeping logs are still handwritten. With this, one cannot even properly search for keeping data, and there is no scientific management to speak of. To maintain and manage breeding groups over the long term, individual data management is essential, and services exist for systems that can share data from around the world, including medical care, housing equipment, and management methods, but municipalities that properly budget for the use of such services are the exception among exceptions.

Regarding education, few institutions have such personnel, and even if they do, they are often burdened with public relations and event planning functions. Systematic research and study are exceptional, and the current situation in Japan is that attending research meetings or study groups is usually done on one's own time and at one's own expense. As for the animals, while I wrote that they are "shared assets" in the West, in many Japanese municipalities, they are treated as equipment on the books. That is why the conversation immediately turns to "purchasing."

In recent years, the application of the designated manager system has made the division of responsibility between the municipality and the designated manager unclear. The designated manager system is a total outsourcing system where all decisive management power is held by the main office, but the number of zoo personnel in that main office is limited and they change every few years, which may be resulting in an even stronger adherence to precedent. They are told there is no budget, and if they propose a business that can generate revenue, they are told that a public facility cannot charge more than the cost, and in the end, the quality of the business is evaluated solely by the number of users rather than how well it fulfills the four roles. Moreover, the optimal number of users per day is ignored—in other words, it is a selfish story that ignores user comfort.

With the economic slowdown and the decrease in tax revenue, projects like zoos have been pushed forward with "saving, saving" in Japan. I apologize for using examples from before the Lehman shock, but the construction cost of the "Congo Gorilla Forest" built at the Bronx Zoo was 43 million dollars (1999), and the construction cost of the "Masoala Rainforest" at the Zurich Zoo was 52 million Swiss francs (2003), which are roughly 4.3 billion yen and 5.2 billion yen respectively. And each serves as a window for fundraising for conservation activities in the Congo Basin and Madagascar. Here again, the difference between the West and Japan is visible.

Are zoos necessary? I believe that zoos are one of the last strongholds for preventing urban dwellers from forgetting about wild creatures and nature, and they must be the last gateway from the city to the experience of nature. If zoos disappear, wild animals and nature will become purely products of ideation, making people forget that humans are part of nature, and eventually, I fear it could even lead to the loss of the will to conserve wild animals and the natural environment. To put it extremely, just as one cannot live without catching prey in a fishing, hunting, and gathering society, for residents of a hyper-urban society, zoo animals can be considered a necessary sacrifice to avoid forgetting the remaining nature and heading toward extinction.

If we think this way, is it not our responsibility to make every effort to ensure that zoo animals are as useful as possible for the conservation of wild animals and the natural environment, and that they can live as comfortable a life as possible in the zoo environment? When Hanako the elephant at Inokashira Park Zoo received criticism from abroad, she was no longer in a situation where anything could be done, but should it be forgiven that she was brought to Japan at a young age and never lived with other elephants? Could something have been done 20 or 30 years ago? Such verification and reflection must be carried out. This is especially true since there are still other elephants living alone in Japan. Regarding cetaceans, we need to consider whether new facilities that do not even provide for breeding should be built, and whether we can truly say we are providing the best care when thinking from the perspective of the cetaceans. While it is hardly reported in major Japanese media, it is necessary to recognize the fact that for bottlenose dolphins in the U.S., exhibits have been maintained without introduction from the wild since the late 80s, except for rescued individuals.

I am not saying that all Japanese zoos and aquariums are bad, and the staff on the ground are all seriously dedicated to the animals they are in charge of. There are certainly efforts and initiatives that should be highly evaluated even by global standards. It is just that the system, mechanism, and social interest to empower such initiatives and develop the business are not there. The gaffe by Kozo Yamamoto, Minister of State for Regional Revitalization, that "cultural curators are a cancer," and the factual errors in the related cases, unexpectedly exposed the quality of Japanese politicians and cultural administration, but ultimately, my current thinking is that Japan needs a new system where highly public non-profit projects can be tackled through public-private partnerships.

If you have the opportunity to visit a zoo or aquarium, I would be grateful if you could keep these things in mind.