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Introduction
The visibility of the didgeridoo in the global market has
reached an all-time high over the last five years. For any
visitor to Australia, this 'didgeridoo phenomenon' is hard
to avoid; one can see and buy didgeridoos at airport souvenir
shops, city retailers, Aboriginal art galleries, and weekend
market stalls. Short ones, long ones, plain wood or painted
(vivid purple or electric blue, hand prints or dot art?),
bamboo or hardwood... you even have the choice of plastic
these days. This scenario is evident in all the major population
centres and tourist destinations in Australia. And in many
of the overseas capital cities the trend is also catching
on.
This explosion in the commodification of a cultural product
raises serious questions about the sustainability of the didgeridoo
industry. How will global market forces impact on the cultural
integrity of the instrument? Will there be erosion and trivialisation
of Aboriginal values and practices relating to the didgeridoo?
Are there labelling and representation issues evident in the
retailing industry?
In the absence of a regulatory apparatus monitoring the commerce
in Australia's most unique offering to the world, the potential
for commercial exploitation, environmental damage and cultural
loss are only too apparent.
This article looks at some of the core issues and sheds light
on current trends that threaten to erode the integrity of
the didgeridoo.
The problem of association
The first and foremost problem is that of association. What
I mean by this is that to the consumer the didgeridoo can
mean different things and it is this assemblage of associations
that (mis)informs his (or less frequently, her) purchase of
a didgeridoo.
The largest consumer group of the didgeridoo, the overseas
tourist visiting Australia, associates the didgeridoo with
Australia and with Aborigines. The purchase of a didgeridoo
by this sector serves as a souvenir, a memento of Australia
and its original peoples (though tourist kitsch may be a more
appropriate term). Yet the didgeridoo is neither pan-Australian
nor pan-Aboriginal. It is not endemic to all parts of Australia
(being found traditionally only in the northernmost areas
of the Northern Territory and adjacent parts of Western Australia
and Queensland) and only a small number of Aboriginal tribal
groups claim it as part of their continuing living cultural
heritage. Clearly, the level of public awareness of the didgeridoo's
cultural background is low and the average consumer is guilty
of nothing more than ignorance.
On the other hand, the vast majority of Australian (and overseas)
retailers are guilty of unconscionable conduct in the way
of false labelling and advertising, an offence that is convictable
under the Trade Practices Act (1974). Labels on didgeridoos
produced for the tourist trade - and these represent the largest
slice of the didgeridoo commerce pie - commonly display a
combination of the words 'Australian', 'Aboriginal', and 'authentic'.
In reality, these didgeridoos have never been touched (let
alone made and painted) by an Australian Aboriginal person.
That a large portion of these didgeridoos is manufactured
overseas attests to the high farce that the industry is rapidly
spiralling towards.
Other associations that didgeridoo merchants are anxious
to promote include the supposed antiquity of the instrument
in Australian Aboriginal culture, and the imagined mystical
and metaphysical properties of the didgeridoo. Both these
associations bear no semblance to reality or to Aboriginal
practices and belief systems. No scholar of repute who has
studied the material culture and archaeology of Aborigines
would ever assert the didgeridoo to be more than about 2000
years old, yet enterprising retailers are quick to proclaim
the didgeridoo as the world's oldest wind instrument at 40,000
years old. On the metaphysical front, clever marketing by
the commercial sector in its bid at market expansion has associated
the didgeridoo with sentiments relating to healing, spirituality,
and shamanism. In a society that is becoming more 'spiritually-inclined',
the portrayal of the didgeridoo as a magical tool or a religious
icon - an object worthy of worship - not only smacks of crass
commercialisation, but collides with and disrespects the Aboriginal
custodians' values and the meanings they ascribe to it.
Fortunately, most readers of this magazine are well informed
enough to look beyond the marketing jingles and hype that
the lower end of the market is notorious for. The ease in
information sharing brought about by the advent of the Internet
has equipped the growing community of didgeridoo players and
enthusiasts worldwide with more than just a superficial understanding
of what the instrument is and where its cultural origins lie.
A pattern is emerging, nonetheless, of clusters of interests
or interest groups within this community. For instance, there
is a germinating scene in the music industry of professional
musicians who perform and/or record with the didgeridoo either
solo or in an ensemble, sometimes with electronic distortions
and embellishments. This is all fine and well, and I would
not suggest even remotely that this is a bad thing or that
it is wrong. However, for the great majority of listeners
of this genre of music, this would be the closest they ever
come in contact with the didgeridoo or with Aboriginal culture.
As this blend of the new electronic with 'World Music' goes
about breaking new musical frontiers - in the continuous search
for freshness and artistic innovation - one wonders what new
associations would prevail. Would current social and cultural
taboos be fair game in the name of art?
One cannot help but also wonder if cluster groups and their
new cultural representations and associations would one day
take on a life of their own one in escalating 'runway' effects
that are beginning to gain momentum now. What then would be
the value of Aboriginal culture? Would the new (non-Aboriginal)
gurus of the didgeridoo then act as de facto voices for Indigenous
Australians? Despite the benign intentions and motivations
of these interests groups, could the didgeridoo ultimately
fall fate to the power of contemporary popular culture?
Without wishing to be the harbinger of gloom, the New World
Order, unfortunately, is upon us. Where the didgeridoo has
come from is clear, where it is going remains to be seen.
The following suggests that the didgeridoo's place in the
new order is bleak, despite individual efforts to curb the
trickle that threatens to turn into a flood.
Environmental destruction
In some parts of Australia, especially in the Darwin, Katherine,
Far North Queensland and Kalgoorlie (Western Australia) regions,
illegal harvesting or poaching of eucalyptus trees (particularly
bloodwoods, woolybutt, and stringybark) is commonplace. The
problem is so serious in the 'Top End' of Australia that the
sustainability and ecological impacts of this activity are
being investigated by government authorities and university
research centres. In the southern parts of Australia, the
epidemic of environmental destruction sweeping the 'Top End'
is also apparent, especially in the mallee country of northern
Victoria and some parts of New South Wales.
The culprits of such wholesale destruction are commonly rumoured
to be non-Aboriginal outfits equipped with chainsaws, 4WD
vehicles, large trailers, and, if rumours are to be believed,
helicopters in some instances. And if estimates are true (solid
statistics are understandably hard to come by), hundreds of
thousands of didgeridoo stems are harvested in this manner
each year.
In their quest for new 'hunting grounds', commercial harvesters
are beginning to breach the borders of Arnhem Land, traditionally
a well protected Aboriginal reserve too remote for unscrupulous
poachers to exploit.
As a sign of the power of global consumer culture, and a
paradoxical twist in the story of the didgeridoo, Aboriginal
people - even in Arnhem Land - have entered the arena as major
producers in the didgeridoo industry. Whilst their unit contributions
to the total market are still relatively small compared to
large-scale non-Aboriginal enterprises, one wonders what the
future brings if Indigenous didgeridoo craftsmen adopt the
industrial 'tools of the trade' common in non-Aboriginal production
setups. Could the natural beauty and integrity of the Arnhem
Land woodlands be one day replaced by ecological wastelands?
Probably not, at least not in the near to medium-term future.
However, without wishing to sound alarmist, Aboriginal craftsmen
have recently reported of a scarcity of suitable trees for
crafting into didgeridoos in some areas close to main settlements.
- To be continued -
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