This is my line in the sand. I would be prepared—in conjunction with my state and federal counterparts—to name and shame under the protection of parliamentary privilege the carpetbaggers whose actions—clearly—threaten to destroy the industry.

Acknowledgements including Lhere Athepe

Thank you for asking me to come here this morning to open Art, money, culture and community.

In Darwin two weeks ago, I witnessed the signing of an agreement between an international gas company, the Government, and the Northern Land Council on behalf of the traditional land owners of western Arnhem Land.

It was, on the surface, an unlikely combination: what was being signed was an arrangement in which the gas producer is to pay a significant amount of money each year as an offset for the carbon they create.

And—in a world first—that money will go to employ Indigenous land managers to re-introduce traditional fire management techniques in western Arnhem Land in an arc from coastal Maningrida down through Bulman and the head waters of the Mann and Katherine rivers.

I mentioned this yesterday, but it has created what I like to call a "virtuous circle”. The agreement will mean people will get paid to care for country; the country which in turn is at the heart of their creativity.

And indeed, that has been the function of art creation in remote areas of the Territory, Western Australia and South Australia for the past three decades: the discretionary cash income generated by the production of art and craft has—in very large part—been critical to the survival and expansion of remote communities, outstations and homeland centres.

I mention this today, because I believe that the very existence of Aboriginal communities and outstations in remote areas is under strong attack. And, although capitalism might seem a long way away from the world of a small community in the middle of the desert—an engagement with the commercial world will be critical to its survival.

Let there be no mistake: there are strong forces which seek, finally and irrevocably, to remove Aboriginal people from the landscape. Despite the increased recognition of the significance and importance of traditional knowledge systems, and the capacity for those systems to be harnessed in land management throughout the continent—and indeed in border security on our coasts—there are powerful elements that would like to see an end to Aboriginal occupation of their traditional lands.

I am not saying that this push will succeed, nor am I saying that we should not resist it: but I am saying we should recognise its reality.

In talking to Central Land Council Chairman Lindsay Bookie just a couple of days ago, it was clear that the hopes of he and many other groups in central Australia lie with creative production; in eco tourism; and in horticulture involving introduced as well as native produce.

And what are they being offered by these enemies of remote communities?

Nuclear waste dumps.

Yes, these same people who justify penny pinching on basic services to seek to drive Aboriginal people from their traditional lands, are quite happy to spend tens of millions of dollars over many years to dump nuclear waste on parts of those same traditional lands.

So, in a sense, the line is being drawn in the sand and the Aboriginal arts and crafts industry is very much in the front line of this developing conflict.

Which is why this symposium is so important today.

Art and craft centres generate around $28 million annually, with private non-Indigenous dealers generating a similar amount. In Central Australia, it is reckoned that the arts and crafts industry generates greater economic activity than the cattle industry. So those who say that Aboriginal-owned land is somehow “unproductive” are quite simply wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not criticising the pastoral sector—just pointing out that wealth can and is being generated in other ways—new ways.

My department—Natural Resources Environment and the Arts—pulls together for the first time under a single agency the potential building blocks for those new ways.

For example, in central Australia the department brings together virtually all government assets that can be incorporated in or assist with Aboriginal economic and cultural development in remote areas.

It combines Parks and Wildlife in what will; increasingly become a series of estates in central Australia that will be jointly managed with Traditional Owners and Native Title Holders of the parks.

It brings in all existing heritage assets in central Australia that will value add to the Aboriginal histories of the region.

It brings in Arts NT, and the Northern Territory Film Office, both of which have potentially critical roles to play.

It brings in assets such as Araluen and Olive Pink Reserve, along with the Desert Park that we see as being increasingly linked to a viewing of Alice Springs and indeed all of central Australia as a “cultural precinct”, and for central Australia to take its rightful place as the heartland of Australian culture—Indigenous and non-Indigenous.

In all of this, we obviously want Aboriginal land owners of central Australia as integral partners.

But I recognise that this is not going to be a simple task. It is up to us, as a Government, to build strategic alliances and links between the tourism industry at large, and with Aboriginal interests in remote areas—and the Aboriginal arts and crafts centres are vital links in this process.

Which is why, as Government, we place ourselves very much in opposition to those who seem determined to allow our smaller communities wither on the vine.

And I am well aware that, today, the arts and crafts industry—through its representative organisations such as Desart hosting today’s symposium—is not taking it lightly.

They, too, are drawing a line in the sand when it comes to the protection of the industry—and the many thousands of our fellow citizens who benefit from it—with the release of the Commercial Code of Conduct for the industry.

This is very much aimed at those in the industry who seek to destroy it for quick term gain, those people—commonly known as carpetbaggers—who whether they recognise it or not are very much in the camp of enemies of our remote communities. What they do contributes just as much to poisoning the well of the arts industry as those who want to use the land as a waste dump.

What the industry is saying to the less scrupulous parts of the industry—and this has my wholehearted support—is that this is you last chance to get your act together. If you are not prepared to take the road of self regulation to sustain the Aboriginal arts and crafts industry; the road to external regulation is on the cards.

I go further than that. This is my line in the sand. I would be prepared—in conjunction with my state and federal counterparts—to name and shame under the protection of parliamentary privilege the carpetbaggers whose actions—clearly—threaten to destroy the industry.

So none of you can say—at some later stage—you have not been given notice, this would be my intention if people do not clean up their act.

Friends.

The subtitle of today’s symposium is “the value of art to lives in remote communities”.

It is this that we must not lose sight of: it is about people’s lives; about the lands they live on and love; and about caring for those lands now and in the future.

Thank you.