world, indigenous peoples have in common complex oral and artistic systems for documenting their expertise (i.e. in ecosystem conservation and other sustainability processes) and for passing these skills to coming generations. Much of this knowledge, such as the use of medicinal plants, is considered sacred, and therefore has traditionally been subject to regula- tion by the Elders. However, now that indigenous knowledge is of value on the international market, owing to the interest of New Age followers, thrill seekers, and pharmacology researchers and investors, it is possible in some indigenous communities for tourists to purchase curative treatments or guided forest tours (Proctor, 2001). While this type of tourism product often tells of a break in protocol between generations or families in a community, in some cases the Elders are fully involved and believe that this knowledge can be shared on respectful terms.
Regardless of the scenario, a constant within most communities offering such tourism exchanges is a dangerous lack of knowledge about the indigenous rights issues surrounding what has become known in the Western world as intellectual property. Thus, in some Maasai communities in Kenya, it is possible to go on a guided walk, where the species and medici- nal applications of each local plant are labelled in English for all to see.
Such communities rarely ‘catch up’ with the legal and political implications of showcasing their knowledge before it is too late, and this exposure has jeopardized the very elements of culture they intended to protect.
There is no prospect in sight of a reliable mechanism for indigenous peoples to alert one another of the dangers of responding to the
‘knowledge seeking’ trend among tourists and potential investors posing as tourists, since it is in the financial interest of governments and industry to liberalize access to resources, and funding is directed accordingly. Under current international modes of business and standards of conduct, it can safely be said that there is no incentive for tourism companies to establish the conditions necessary for prior informed consent. The few instruments for comprehensive cultural protection that exist internationally have been formulated and championed by a handful of indigenous peoples whose circumstances allow them to plug in to the now globalized discussion of indigenous rights. No international institution of significant size is coming forward to facilitate technical support from indigenous peoples that have this type of expertise directly to those communities that badly need it.
has changed substantially. Several NGOs, both tourism specific and more broadly focused conservation and/or social justice groups, have pressed governments to take action to mitigate tourism impacts. As a result, a structured debate on tourism standards is now underway through a broad framework of UN processes. Tourism is under review within the UN Commission on Sustainable Development (CSD) and theUN Convention on Biological Diversity(CBD), as well as subsidiary processes like theUN Conven- tion on Climate Change. These intergovernmental discussions are proceeding with an unprecedented level of detail.
Indigenous leaders working to protect their peoples’ rights via interna- tional forums like the UN have been vocal about social and environmental issues specific to their communities. As a result, indigenous peoples now stand apart from NGOs as observers at multilateral negotiations on sustain- able tourism. Their persistence at articulating the difference between individual rights and collective rights has brought several new issues to the agenda, especially in relation to intellectual property and the conservation of biological diversity (Johnston, 2000). Governments have met this change with considerable resistance, understanding well the distinction between different classifications of rights, and the influence this could have on future guidelines or standards adopted for the tourism industry.
Nevertheless, the lens of debate is now broader than simply human rights.
Gradually, indigenous peoples are finding that they have a voice in international policy on tourism. The CBD, signed by 175 countries since 1993, has been pivotal in facilitating this breakthrough. It is legally binding and provides clear benchmarks for safeguarding the interests of indigenous peoples and other local communities. Most significant in this regard is Article 8(j), which obliges governments to protect and promote indigenous knowledge systems for the conservation and sustainable use of biodiversity, while ensuring the equitable sharing of related benefits.
Article 8(j) of the CBD has particular immediacy in relation to ecotourism. As noted earlier, most ecotourism targets indigenous home- lands, where high biodiversity remains due to the sophisticated stewardship practices applied over millennia (World Wildlife Fund, 2000). There remains the ideal, however rare in actual practice, that ecotourism involves host communities on respectful terms. Article 8(j), recognizing the vital contribution of indigenous knowledge and innovation systems to con- servation, revives the principle that sustainable ecotourism should entail meaningful involvement by indigenous communities in analysis and decision-making.
The dialogue on how to broaden the discussion of sustainability in the tourism sector is now in transition. Parallel to the CBD, a set of principles called the Berlin Declaration on Sustainable Tourism was signed in 1997 by multilateral agencies like the Secretariat of the CBD, the UN Environment Programme and the Global Environment Facility, plus 18 country
signatories of the CBD. Through this declaration, international leaders agreed that tourism should be restricted and, where necessary, prevented, in ecologically and culturally sensitive areas. While this statement brought visibility to the culture loss triggered by tourism, there is still no accepted definition of what constitutes culturally sustainable tourism. Nor is there significant support within government or industry for indigenous peoples, especially those with authority and perspective from the community level, to take a lead in developing appropriate criteria. Instead, indigenous communities face an immense burden of proof in registering an area as
‘sensitive’.
In the absence of industry guidelines consistent with the Berlin declara- tion and with the spirit of the CBD, many indigenous organizations are in the midst of developing standard legal and sui generis protective mecha- nisms, pooling results in an effort to help those communities that are too isolated or impoverished to challenge damaging modes of business independently. Instruments of prior informed consent and agreements to govern benefit sharing are considered vital, even if they exist only in draft form to serve as a reference point for internal decision-making, or for work- ing through a cross-cultural process with prospective partners. The most effective of these regulatory tools are usually those initially drafted right in the community, away from lawyers or other outside ‘experts’ distanced from the day to day manifestations of the issues.
Indigenous communities need to sort out amongst themselves – without the interference of non-members – the tribal, sub-tribal and family ‘ownership’
of knowledge. What is common property? Who has the right to give consent?
Elders or youth? Tribal political structures or new additional specialist tribal organizations? What structures will they put in place? Should regional and national structures also be established? By whom?
(Mead, 1995: 7) These documents are sometimes drafted with facilitation assistance, so as to bring the experience of Elders and younger leadership together into a coherent vision. Examples include the Kuna People’s Statute on Tourism (Kuna General Congress, 1996). The Kuna People of Panama stand out for their success in being able to develop a formal mechanism to combat industry trends. The opening article of the KunaStatute on Tourism, ratified in 1996 by the Kuna General Congress, states:
The only tourist activities and infrastructures possible in Kuna Yala will be, strictly and solely, those that respect, conserve, value and defend the natural resources, environment and biodiversity of thecomarca(i.e. the Kuna territory), as well as the socio-cultural, political, and religious Kuna norms and customs.
The statute specifies how this vision will be achieved, and is now being tested by the Kuna Congress (Snow, 2001).
Although some observers have criticized the Kuna for being slow to enforce its provisions, there is in reality a multiplicity of factors, not least of which is the machinery of the tourism industry itself. It should be remembered that moving from a colonized economy to one of self-determination is a slow process of reversing centuries of economic oppression and indoctrination, and re-working business relationships from the inside out.
Meanwhile, steps have been taken by multilateral organizations to redress the lack of protection for culture and cultural property within national legal frameworks. In July 1998, the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) initiated the annualRoundtable on Indigenous Peoples and Intellectual Property to assess the shortcomings of existing legal tools.
Many indigenous peoples maintain that the very structure of such forums is an infringement of indigenous rights, because there is a predetermined process to plug into (i.e. consultation) rather than a mutual exchange of ideas for how best to undertake problem solving. But with industry pres- suring governments for a more secure investment climate, these processes are being pushed forward, with or without indigenous endorsement, and with or without true indigenous participation. As well, some issues are being fast-tracked, as a means to mediate between corporate and community interests. UNESCO, for example, organized the International Symposium on Natural Sacred Sites, Cultural Diversity and Biological Diversityin September 1998, and now has a new work programme on indigenous knowledge.
In time, such multilateral processes will have broad application to the tourism industry. Dynamics being addressed include unauthorized activities such as the use of indigenous cultural symbols on souvenirs like T-shirts and tea towels, the sale of photos of indigenous peoples for tourism brochures and postcards, and performances or adaptations of indigenous dances and songs. That said, a weak link in these discussions is the feedback of recommendations to industry. As of yet, there is no clear directive for industry to work with indigenous peoples towards developing and implementing respectful interim measures.
Indigenous peoples, deeply concerned by what they see as tacit approval by governments for ‘business as usual’, consistently raise three caveats with regard to forums seeking their ‘participation’ or ‘consultation’.
First, the format, agenda and outputs of such processes addressing indigenous rights should be determined at the outset through consensus with authentic indigenous leadership. Secondly, adequate funding should be made available for indigenous peoples to conduct their own analysis in preparation for dialogue. Finally, participating government bodies and other organizations should be required to honour international law con- cerning indigenous and human rights (e.g.International Labour Organization Convention 169), as well as parallel standards (e.g.UN Draft Declaration on the
Rights of Indigenous People). Otherwise, indigenous peoples face a fire- fighting situation, where third party infringement of their rights is a constant threat, detracting scarce resources away from community projects for rebuilding sustainable economies.
Despite recent advances made towards defining new relationships in tourism, there are several tough questions left to tackle. How can indig- enous peoples protect themselves against displacement, industry profiteer- ing and exploitation? What policy is needed to facilitate indigenous communities in developing their own tourism business concepts? What incentives are required for industry to enter into respectful partnerships with indigenous peoples? Who will determine the accepted thresholds for cultural erosion, or what constitutes a ‘culturally sensitive’ area, as per the Berlin Declaration? Questions like these must be tackled if indigenous communities are ever to remove the product label attached to them by the tourism industry.
Community responses to policy level developments
One result of the recent attention accorded in policy circles to indigenous communities affected by the tourism industry is increased awareness of aspects of culture in development programming. Several NGOs and for-profit social justice organizations have taken note of the core issues and tried to work with indigenous communities to develop an income source from tourism that supports local objectives. While overtures from these groups initially brought hope among indigenous peoples that more pro- ductive partnerships would follow, many have expressed disappointment at the outcomes. Most professionals and other volunteers playing a supportive role to indigenous peoples with regard to tourism are very familiar with human rights issues, but have a limited understanding of indigenous rights, as well as indigenous values and customary practices. As a result, they often proceed in ways that compromise indigenous rights, all the while believing that they are doing good.
Another challenge encountered by indigenous peoples has been the motivation for some of these groups to enter into an alliance on a community tourism enterprise. It is now extremely fashionable for NGOs to have an indigenous component to their programming, especially in relation to biodiversity or general environment issues, as this combination represents a niche in the advocacy world. There is a tendency among these organizations to want to affiliate with an indigenous project for fundraising or public relations purposes. This has led to inappropriate behaviour on the part of both office and field staff, ranging from unautho- rized accompaniment by photographers or cinematographers on project trips, to fudged statements or ‘quotes’ with regard to indigenous projects
in NGO promotional literature. Similar mixed messages have been delivered by some tourism ‘companies with a conscience’. For this reason, indigenous leaders are becoming much more systematic in the way they approach such collaboration, defining expected roles and responsibilities in advance through a memorandum of understanding or similar regulatory tool.
The almost competitive spirit of some tourism and environment NGOs in pursuing their respective project portfolios, with indigenous tourism as a component, has highlighted for many indigenous leaders, the need to reiterate their concerns around tourism, spelling out their own advocacy agenda. Existing codes of conduct for tourism developed by NGOs, while useful as an overview of human rights, do not name or delineate subjects of priority to indigenous peoples. The most serious oversight of these documents is with regard to process. At the community level as well, it is assumed that ‘participation’ or a ‘stakeholder’ role in decision-making is what indigenous peoples want or require. But by definition, a ‘stakeholder’
consultation process is designed to accommodate third-party interests, not human rights or indigenous rights.
The prevailing assumption among governments and industry, mean- while, is that indigenous communities have a compensation mentality, and therefore will be satisfied if economic development is ‘delivered’. While most indigenous communities are in search of a means to secure independ- ent financial resources, many would expect that any discussion process established should also provide for the simultaneous resolution of out- standing grievances. As indigenous communities learn about successful negotiation models elsewhere, including viable interim measures to anticipate and resolve conflict, they are less likely to enter into a standard consultation process, which could prejudice or extinguish their rights.
To underline this expectation, some indigenous communities are opting to undertake peaceful direct action (such as the unarmed road blockade described above) in order to demand fair negotiations of tour- ism activities within their traditional territory. In the province of British Columbia, Canada, indigenous communities have gone a step further, targeting shutdowns of the tourism industry (which is replacing timber as the reliable source of government revenue) as a means to open a negotiat- ing table with government on forest practices. These communities want consistency in policy and practice from the various government ministries and ministry offices.
The presumption that indigenous communities should ‘negotiate’
rights, or partake in ‘interest based’ negotiation, is one of the primary obstacles to problem solving in the tourism industry today. Proposals for this type of dialogue process with communities are steeped in the delivery mode of thinking – programme delivery, service delivery or a magic potion for development itself. They may imply self-government, but always within a
framework of top-down development assistance. This principle is markedly different from self-determination.