The debates in recent years about kava in Aboriginal communities have occurred,
in the main, with little input from the people most involved: Aboriginal
residents of kava-using communities. Rather, they have been conducted in
legislative assemblies, the media, and in the same forces that usually govern
debates in these contexts: constituency pressures, political priorities,
administrative constraints.
Events which occur in one context, however, and have certain meanings and
purposes within that context, may, in the course of being experienced within
other contexts, have very different meanings. It is these latter meanings
that will shape peoples responses to events, not the meanings attributed
to them in the policy-making context. I wish to end this article with some
reflections on the inter-relationships between the events associated with
kava policy as they have evolved in a political-administrative context, and
the meanings which these events have within kava-using communities.
These reflections are no more than tentative ideas; they have arisen largely
from my involvement in recent months in identifying and proposing new kava
policies, explaining the policy selected to people in Aboriginal communities,
and trying to understand the varied responses of Aboriginal people to the
changes. They apply, however, to other substances besides kava.
From the policy making perspective, kava is a public health issue. Recent
restrictions on the sale and supply of kava arise out of concerns with the
effects of kava on health, and the single most influential piece of research
behind the restrictions is an epidemiological study.
Aboriginal people recognise the importance of health issues, and although
many Arnhem Landers do not subscribe to Western notions of disease aetiology,
they are aware of links between substance issue and ill health. At the same
time,
Aboriginal access to recreational drugs is a highly political issue. The
history of European control over Aboriginal society is in no small part,
as Barber, Punt and Albers (1988) remark, a history of external control over
access to alcohol and other drugs. Throughout most of Australia, Aboriginal
people acquired the legal right to purchase liquor and drink it openly in
the 1960s, at about the same time as, and in conjunction with, the removal
of wide ranging restrictions on their day to day lives and the granting of
citizenship. Consequently, any action taken which affects access to recreational
drugs is likely to be highly charged with symbolic meaning, which may well
take precedence over concerns about health.
An illustration of this occurred very recently at one community in north-east
Arnhem Land which has elected to retain kava use. Under the terms and conditions
that apply in this community, purchasers until now have had to sign their
names whenever they buy kava. Many people dislike the condition because,
they say, it takes them back to the "mission days". The condition is being
removed. Even when the issue of public health is given paramount place, many
Aboriginal residents of kava use communities express scepticism towards a
government which is apparently deeply concerned about the health effects
of heavy kava use, but which at the same time is seen not merely to tolerate,
but actively to promote the consumption of alcohol, by issuing liquor outlet
licences, allowing the advertising of alcohol, and so on. "Which drug do
you believe causes more harm to Aboriginal people, nganitji (alcohol) or
kava?" I have sometimes been asked. And of course, I have to reply "nganitji".
The implications, having been exposed, are usually left unspoken. The fact
that the Northern Territory Liquor Act has more provision for community control
of alcohol than any equivalent legislation elsewhere in Australia does not
negate the perception of selective attention. Sometimes the point is put
more bluntly: "Kava is yulngu (Aboriginal) drink, so the government wants
to stop it. Alcohol is a balanda (white persons) drink, so they dont
stop it".
Kava is also, in many communities, al important entrepreneurial issue. In
settings marked by a dearth of meaningfi employment opportunities, the selling
of kava offers particularly attractive opportunities. A ready made local
marke is available, access to which requires no advertising or promotion.
Kava offers high profits, at the cost of few organisational demands or overheads.
Prior to the present system being introduced, a person in an Aboriginal community
could, in effect, clean up in a game of cards one evening, telephone a kava
dealer in Darwin next morning, if need be sending advance payment in on that
days plane, and have a consignment of kava delivered within a day or
so, whicl he could quickly turn to a handsome, tax-free profit. Kava does
not require refrigeration, or particular care in handling, and has never
in the past attracted the interest of officials such as health inspectors.
It is not surprising that kava dealing in some communities has become an
important element in local political alliances and factions, with contemporary
entrepreneurial practices being combined with traditional modes of authority
in a manner that is sometimes intriguing, and not always apparent to outside
observers. Under these circumstances, the way in which a community responds
to restrictions on kava may be governed as much by local political forces
as by residents views about kava.
Policy makers often expect and hope that Aboriginal communities will exercise
indigenous social controls over the use of recreational drugs. When, as often
happens, the communities are seen not to do so, there is a temptation on
the part of the policy makers to see only social disorganisation in Aboriginal
communities and to brush aside those local control mechanisms that do exist
and impose mechanisms of their own. This, I believe is a mistake.
It is true that, in many Aboriginal settings, informal social mechanisms
for the control of recreational drugs are not working effectively. This is
not an indication, however, that Aboriginal societies are in a state of
disintegration.
Rather, as Edmunds (1990) has argued in a recent paper prepared for the Royal
Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, indigenous forms of social
control, developed in a context of small mobile groups structured in terms
of religion and age, are no longer adequate in modern large settlements,
whether in remote or settled Australia. Ironically, the apparent ineffectiveness
of these control mechanisms sometimes drives exasperated Aboriginal groups
also to turn to government and ask it to take over the problem, as it were,
by imposing external, preferably draconian, measures. To accede to such pleas
would also be in my view, a mistake. Rather, the goal of policies should
be to strengthen rather then over-ride local informal control mechanisms.
This requires maintaining balance: too little intervention, and already ailing
mechanisms will be further weakened; too much, and they will be undermined.
If we fail to maintain that balance and, notwithstanding our intentions,
contribute to further erosion and indigenous mechanisms, we shall thereby
achieve little more than further demoralisation, which in turn will precipitate
yet more substance misuse.
It is also sometimes argued by policy makers that substance misuse is merely
a symptom of other problems such as unemployment and therefore not amenable
to useful intervention until these other problems have been solved.
Again, it is true that the dearth of meaningful roles and opportunities in
many Aboriginal communities, especially but not only with respect to young
men, creates a setting conducive to excessive use of mind altering substances.
It is also true that policies concerned with minimising the harm caused by
such substances must articulate with other policy arenas, such as those bearing
on employment and recreation. But I do not know a single Aboriginal person
who would suggest that the problems associated with substance misuse, especially
alcohol, should put aside pending solutions to other problems such as
unemployment - important though these issues are.
If our policies are not to amount to anything more than the usual
well-intentioned, unproductive meddling by non-Aboriginal people in the lives
of Aboriginal people, we need to give due recognition to the connotations
of these policies within the local community context - in particular the
symbolic political and entrepreneurial connotations - and maintain the balance,
referred to above, between insufficient and excessive intervention. And all
this has to be reconciled with the imperatives of the political/administrative
context in which policies are forged.