In July and August, athletes from around the world gathered together in Atlanta to compete for fame and medals. Regrettably, in this Olympics, facing the finest athletes from all over, Taiwan's participants had little room to show their stuff. Yet Taiwan culture played an important role in the event: Even before the Olympics had begun, a song of the Ami people of eastern Taiwan was already sweeping across the lands of the 190-plus members of the International Olympic Committee.

In the well-air-conditioned press briefing room of the Taipei City government, surrounded by luxurious leather couches, the Ami aborigine Difag (Chinese name Kuo Ying-nan) stands with five of his usual companions. They are spiritedly singing "Song of Joy." But it's a lot different here than back home in the mountains. Igay (Chinese name Kuo Hsiu-chu), Difag's wife for half a century, says, "Back home, we would sing enough songs to fill a truck," but in Taipei they only feel like singing "a matchboxful" of them.

They don't like Taipei, and have only come for a "special reason."

Voices from the shore

Have you seen the short promotional film for the Olympics? Note the music that accompanies the images of athletes striving to run faster and jump higher. That stimulating rhythm and moving voice come from Taiwan-it is a song of the Ami people of Taitung County!

Yet few people have been aware of this, and even "lead singer" Difag and his wife Igay didn't know. Indeed, Difag only found out when someone told him that they heard his singing on an Olympic promo film they saw on TV; it was only then that he knew he was a worldwide star!

Shortly before the opening ceremonies for the 1996 Olympics, Difag and his wife accepted the invitation of the Taipei City Commission for Native Taiwanese Affairs and came to Taipei to participate in a "support meeting" aimed at securing the intellectual property rights to his song. In response to requests from the audience, the singers staged a public performance of "Song of Joy." Here was a group of people whose average age surpasses 70, and who cannot speak Chinese or Taiwanese, only Ami and Japanese. What were they thinking as they sang the "Song of Joy" so familiar to all older members of their community?

Taipei mayor Chen Shui-bian called this public performance in Taiwan of the Olympic video theme song "a reprise of the original." The goal was to draw attention to the problem of securing the intellectual property rights of indigenous people. This was probably the first time that Taiwan's indigenous people spoke out on behalf of their intellectual property rights and won support from officials, so naturally it got a lot of attention.

Who will protect me?

When the dispute over the Olympic video song first got attention, a cartoon in a Taipei paper depicted an aborigine underneath two pairs of Uncle-Sam-like legs; the aborigine was saying, "They pirated my voice! Who's going to protect me?" Standing off to one side was a government official, sweating profusely.

Though the immediate cause of the events just described came from the Olympic promo film theme song, in fact the dispute goes back three full years. At that time, word was already out in the Taiwan music community that the British group Enigma, well known around the world for its unusual music, had utilized a part of a song sung by Taiwan aborigines. They remixed the song electronically and linked it up with their song's lyrics to synthesize "Return to Innocence." The song sold very well, reaching number 4 on the Billboard charts in the US. Later it was selected as the theme song for the Olympic promotional video, thus sparking the most recent controversy.

When the Enigma CD was released in Taiwan, the local agent wrote on the jacket that this was the "first time Taiwan aboriginal music was introduced on the world stage." But neither on the jacket nor in the CD liner notes was the origin of the human voices explained clearly.

The voices were taken from a CD produced by the Maison des Cultures du Monde in France. In 1988, the music scholar Hsu Tsang-houei led a group of Taiwan's indigenous people to Europe to perform and record. Besides the Ami, there were also songs of the Rukai, Paiwan, and Bunun.

An enigmatic choice

An intriguing question is: Why would the Olympic promotional video use music of Taiwan's aborigines? What is the connection between the music and the Olympic ideal of sport?

The Olympic promotional video was commissioned by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) to the firm Trans World International, based in London. In a fax, Gill Blake, assistant producer of the project, wrote "we listened to several pieces we felt had something spiritual and timeless about them. It was then purely a matter of making a subjective choice. . . . In addition, 'Return to Innocence' seemed to work in conjunction with the ideas expressed in the video of fair play, peace, unity, etc." Clearly, from the point of view of the production company, Ami singing was not the most important consideration. Instead, the main spirit of the choice was "return to innocence."

The segment of Ami music selected by Enigma was only that portion with Difag singing and Igay doing harmony. They did not use the most characteristic segment, featuring call and response singing, nor the polyphonic singing (a special feature of the songs of Ami from southern Taiwan), also sung by Difag.

Music scholar Ming Li-kuo says that it is obvious that Enigma did not make their choice based on considerations of the musical structure reflecting special cultural characteristics. Rather, they just chose something that sounded interesting to them, which is simply a matter of luck and coincidence. As for why Enigma chose the recordings Difag and others made in France, Ming puns, "For me, that's the real enigma."

Left out of the recording loop

There has been no answer yet to this question. But it is clear that the intellectual property rights dispute arising from this collection of aboriginal songs could have far-reaching significance.

The crux of the issue is this: When Hsu Tsang-houei brought the aborigines to France in 1988, was the possibility of recording brought up? And who authorized that the music could be compiled on a CD of the French Maison des Cultures du Monde and then sold? Did anyone ask the people who performed the songs? Unfortunately, the person who knows the most about this key point, Hsu himself, is out of the country at this writing and unavailable for further questions.

"Assuming that the initial French recording process was in violation of the law, then all future uses of this unauthorized material, including those by Enigma and the IOC, would all be unlawful as well," explains Huang Hsiu-lan, Difag's attorney, in a firm tone of voice. She has received approval from Difag to use "the most intensive legal methods" to handle the case.

According to Huang, when they went to Europe, "no one ever solicited the views of the aborigines who performed the music" with regard to recording and public release. After the Enigma CD was released, the Maison des Cultures du Monde, responding to a letter by Hsu Tsang Houei, did eventually agree to pay a symbolic fee of FF15,000 (less than US$3000) to the Chinese Folk Arts Foundation, which brought the group to Europe in the first place. But because there has been a running dispute over who (if anyone) really owns the rights to the music of the Ami people, the money has remained in the Foundation, and has not been given over to the indigenous people who performed in Europe.

However, according to Hsu, the decision to do the initial recordings without discussing any conditions, which appears to "lack respect for the rights of indigenous people," though regrettable, was understandable given the specific circumstances.

Indigenous rights

Hsu Shao-jen, who works at the Foundation, went to Europe with the original troupe as an assistant handling administrative chores. In an interview with the United Daily News, she said that, at that time, everyone felt very happy just to see that the songs of Taiwan's indigenous people were gaining renown so far afield. The goal of cultural exchange having been achieved, everything seemed fine, and no thought about the problem of "copyrights" that seems all-important today. Moreover, given Taiwan's difficult international position, who would have spoken up against having someone undertake to promote Taiwan culture for us? Is it possible that anyone would have been so brazen as to raise issues of payment and rights? It really was a difficult position to be in.

Now this situation is being resolved through the judicial process. Huang Hsiu-lan has already hired a US law firm to handle the international copyright lawsuit. As Huang understands the situation, in both France and the US (where the Enigma CD was made), copyright laws are very strict about requiring the authorization of the performers for "recorded works" or publication. Unless Difag and others agreed, it can be said that the CD produced by the Maison des Cultures du Monde was unauthorized and thus unlawful.

On the surface, this is a simple case of who controls the rights to a piece of music. But because those involved are members of a small group of indigenous people, given the surge in ethnic self-identification in Taiwan in recent years, the incident has naturally been interpreted as one in which "certain foreigners and Han Chinese have stolen and exploited the cultural and intellectual property of indigenous people."

"Minority peoples around the world have been treated unfairly over and over in this way. . . . In the 17th century, people cheated the aborigines out of their land, but why are the basic rights of aboriginal peoples still being ignored today?" These angry words were part of a statement issued by Difag's recording company at a press conference.

No copyright protection?

Early this year, Difag and others were signed to a contract by a recording company, and they plan to release an album of aboriginal songs. The current struggle over the copyright was launched by the record company in order, says the firm, to "protect an artist under contract." The company is handling all legal costs. It is because of this that the whole affair has taken on a somewhat commercial tenor.

Of course, as far as Difag is concerned, his past experiences with "non-commercial" recording were less than happy ones. Many people came to his village and recorded him "for scholarly purposes," and then, "violating the original intention," released albums and put the sounds to commercial use. In the end, says Difag's son Panay (Chinese name Chiang Chin-hsing) "not only didn't they even give us a free CD, they came to our house trying to get us to buy one." This is why Difag was willing to sign a Chinese and English authorization form, so that the recording company could hire an attorney to secure some reasonable outcome.

Collective creations

Besides the rights to the recording, Huang Hsiu-lan is also trying to gain a musical arranger's copyright for Difag. However, the Copyright Law stipulates that there is no copyright protection for, and that anyone can use, a work whose source is untraceable. This worries many who are concerned about aboriginal music.

Kao Cheng-shang, director of the Taipei Commission for Native Taiwanese Affairs, points out that most aboriginal arts, like embroidery and totems, or music and dance, have been passed along by word of mouth, and their origins are untraceable. Moreover, virtually all of them are collective creations, and there is no single "composer." Thus Kao thinks aboriginal intellectual property rights should be treated differently. He urges the government and elected officials to consider establishing a foundation to secure intellectual property rights for collective products of aboriginal culture.

On the other hand, others say that this isn't purely a problem of the indigenous people, but instead is a natural limitation given that the intellectual property rights system is still growing and evolving.

The idea of copyrights developed in the West. In modern Western culture great importance is given to "creators." But this does not apply to all cultures in the world. For example, looking at classical Chinese music, though there was obviously someone who might be able to lay legal claim to having "originally" transcribed the music on paper, what Chinese stress most is the interpretation of the music in performance.

This clash between culture and copyright law is even more evident in the case of products of collective creation within an oral heritage, like folk songs and traditional music.

Ming Li-kuo says that today, many peoples in the world lack the concept of a "creative work," even though "the lack of a concept of a specific creative work does not by any means imply an absence of acts of creativity." Thus, he contends, the current copyright system has clearly not considered the special nature of cultures with an oral tradition, and is unable to escape from a way of thinking that belongs only to industrial civilization.

The message in the song

With regard to the Difag incident, many in the music community believe that, in order to protect their intellectual property rights, indigenous people-who have never passed their culture along by writing-have little choice but to transcribe their music on to paper. But would it be fair for the collective intellectual property of a whole people to be registered under the name of an individual? Others say that a more reasonable solution would be adoption of a "collective ownership system," with, say, half of all moneys turned over to some group like an aboriginal cultural foundation.

Also, there are some risks inherent in registering a general cultural asset under an individual's name. Folk music scholar Lin Ku- fang warns that much would depend on the skill of the transcriber. He says, "Take for example transcribing folk songs. Someone could screw up a tune that had been sung for thousands of years, but, because its incorrect transcription would be protected intellectual property, no one could amend it. What then?"

He advocates that the concept of a copyright "should not be extended without limit," but that, given the need to protect intellectual property rights, perhaps use of intellectual property could be limited by contract. And in all this, we should consider the way the people involved looked at what they were doing at different times. "For example," says Lin, "in 1978 Hsu Tsang-houei and other scholars collected songs from aboriginal villages, and another group of scholars did the same in 1992. The times were different, so standards for things like payment and copyrights were naturally not the same."

Thus, perhaps we should take a more balanced attitude toward those scholars who were then so anxious to collect and preserve aboriginal culture, and who took every opportunity to introduce and promote the music across national boundaries. Otherwise, if everybody puts "self-interest" ahead of

everything else in this dispute, this will definitely run counter to the original significance of the "Song of Joy" that has survived for so many years and that Difag made famous.

From tribal singer to pop singer?

The songs of the Ami can be traced back to their fishing, farming, and hunting activities in the mountains and along the coast. In their tightly organized villages, through the annual harvest festival, each successive generation was trained and educated in cultural traditions, which is the main reason these songs have been carried forward.

Regrettably, like all traditional cultures, Ami culture-including its music-is being decimated by social change. This greatly worries Difag, who is considered the only truly outstanding tribal singing leader left in his community. He says that the thing he most cares about is whether the next generation will be able to sing the songs he can sing today. "Kids today can't even speak their mother tongue, and they don't participate very much in the harvest festival, so how will they be able to sing the songs?" he wonders.

However, these days Difag is a singer contracted to a record company. It is gratifying that he has never given up his position as the one who instructs young people how to sing at the harvest festival, and continues to carry on this important task, and also teaches primary school children twice a week through the modern educational structure. But now that he is increasingly aware of copyrights and contracts, will he sing his songs as freely in the community as he once did?

At the moment, the record company must give prior approval to any "public performance" by Difag. Though the company assures doubters that so long as recordings are not issued, Difag's normal village activities will remain unaffected, this remains to be seen. Based on such things as Difag's son Panay (who also is with the record company) actively restricting his father from singing certain kinds of songs at the request of outsiders, the verdict is still out on whether Difag will be restrained by his contract.

Does the turning of its outstanding singing leader into a singer in a commercial structure, in and of itself, threaten the oral tradition of the indigenous people? Will the two sides come into conflict, or is this an unnecessary concern?

Neglected music sees a turnaround

Frankly speaking, the entire educational system in Taiwan is seriously lacking in understanding of aboriginal culture. Thus, not only Han Chinese, but even many indigenous people themselves, are mostly in the dark about their culture. This has meant that many pieces of aboriginal music already widely considered to be "treasures of world culture" (please see accompanying article) do not get the attention in Taiwan that they should. "Since people don't even know about them, how can you even talk about treating them as important, much less adopting a policy to spread them and pass them along?" asks Ming Li-kuo.

Sadly, on several occasions on which aboriginal music has caught the attention of the Taiwan public, it has been because of promotion of that music by foreigners. In 1943, during the Japanese occupation era, the music scholar Kurosawa Takatomo traveled through 150-plus villages of the nine major aboriginal peoples, collecting nearly 1000 songs and generating more than 20 record albums. He introduced these to UNESCO in the 1950s and wrote articles about what he learned about aboriginal music. This was the first time the music of Taiwan's indigenous people was put on the world stage. It sparked the systematic study of this music, and its influence has continued to the present day.

It seems inappropriate to mention them in the same breath, but Ming Li-kuo avers that the dispute over song rights caused by the Olympic video has drawn attention to aboriginal music with "even greater impact" than did the work of Kurosawa. However, the Japanese scholar "did not have any commercial interest, but on the contrary brought respect and affirmation to aboriginal culture. But the fact that Enigma earned huge profits from record sales-the album with Difag's singing on it sold five million copies-has caused virtually everyone in Taiwan to think only in terms of what profit there is to be had. This seems to reflect some special feature of Taiwan's culture," Ming says, his voice tinged with regret.

Return to innocence

Whatever one might say, the controversy sparked by the use of aboriginal singing in the Olympic video has made long-neglected aboriginal music a hot topic. Indeed, aboriginal recordings are now fast movers. Of course, no one knows how long this fad will last.

Whatever one may think of that fact that the two-minute and 50-second long Olympic promotional video theme song uses two minutes of aboriginal music, perhaps the best retort to all arguments is "return to innocence." Will Difag, Igay, and the tribal elders who sang with them ever be able to again be free of the various disputes and simply go back to their Ami homes and restore "Song of Joy" to its original intent?

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In a press conference arranged by the record company, Difag and Igay sing

"Song of Joy" to demonstrate that it is their voices in the Olympic promotional video.

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On the same day as the opening ceremonies for the Atlanta Olympics, a joint harvest festival celebration was held in Taitung City. Difag and Igay led the singing of "Song of Joy," which has become their "theme song."

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The Ami people have a matrilineal society. When Mom makes wine, of course her offspring must be the first to taste it; this is the origin of the linkage between the tribe and drinking. The photo was taken on the first day of harvest festival in Malan.

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All life begins in blackness. That is how Lifok Dongi, who has been making a record of Ami culture, explains the clothing of these elders. The scene is the Tuli community on Taiwan's southeast coast.

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Aboriginal song and dance used to be performed only at tribal ceremonies, but in the past few years many performances have been staged in the cities, creating an opportunity for "a dialogue between mountains and plains." (photo by Pu hua-chih)

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The British group Enigma used Ami music from a CD produced by the Maison des Cultures du Monde of France, and now both the Enigma album and aboriginal music are selling well.

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It is this type of natural setting that gave birth to such inspiring music. In what way could the broadness and vitality of the great earth be instructive to those involved in the current controversy?

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"Drinking Song," transcribed by musicologist Lu Ping-chuan. Many feel that writing out aboriginal music is the best way to insure its survival and protection as intellectual property. Lu was the first post-WWII local scholar to study aboriginal music.

The Ami people have a matrilineal society. When makes wine, of course her offspring must be the first to taste it; this is the origin of the linkage between the tribe and drinking. The photo was taken on the first day of harvest festival in Malan.

All life begins in blackness. That is how Lifok Dongi, who has been making a record of Ami culture, explains the clothing of these elders. The scene is the Tuli community on Taiwan's southeast coast.

Aboriginal song and dance used to be performed only at tribal ceremonies, but in the past few years many performances have been staged in the cities, creating an opportunity for "a dialogue between mountains and plains." （photo by Pu hua-chih）

The British group Enigma used Ami music from a CD produced by the Maison des Cultures du Monde of France, and now both the Enigma album and aboriginal music are selling well.

It is this type of natural setting that gave birth to such inspiring music. In what way could the broadness and vitality of the great earth be instructive to those involved in the current controversy?

"Drinking Song," transcribed by musicologist Lu Ping-chuan. Many feel that writing out aboriginal music is the best way to insure its survival and protection as intellectual property. Lu was the first post-WWII local scholar to study aboriginal music.