National

Like objectivity, the idea of a universal language of dance is a ridiculous piece of blather that occasionally preoccupies critics. Even if Nietzsche hadn't set an explosive under absolute ideas over a century ago, studies of gesture and body language would still have deconstructed the suggestion that any expression or movement has the same meaning across the world: the sound of seats tipping up as punters walked out on Lemi Ponifasio's masterful pieces at the EIF is the sound of the ongoing argument about the definition of dance.

"Think global, act local" is as much an aesthetic slogan as a catch-phrase for one of the Social Workers Party's front organisations. Ponifasio is a case in point. Like (No) Living Room at Zoo, his Birds With Skymirrors considers the environmental disaster that the industrial revolution has wrought, using a dance vocabulary formed from Maori traditions but almost unrecognisable as dance. There are undeniable links to the European avant-garde in Birds – Ponifasio learnt his craft in the west before returning to New Zealand – yet his choreography is overwhelmingly alien to anyone expecting ballet or even British contemporary styles.

Early contemporary dance, from Isadora Duncan and her brother onwards, did try to tap into universals of movement, eschewing ballet's tight discipline for a system based on ancient Greek postures. The contemporary project to find new ways of expression has often struggled with universality, gestures that have clear meanings. Yet even a cursory view of the Fringe reveals that dance is far too elusive, too diverse, for generalisations about its form.

The post-modern emphasis on the particular is found in this diversity. Indian dance, as in Sulochana K Sarma's Duality mines a specific legacy that shares little with Grupo Corpo's Brazilian vitality. Haunted at Dance Base feeds on Appalachian music, Gypsy Charms returns to Weimar cabaret for her burlesque, Jean Abreu reflects the intense aggression of "Eurocrash" contemporary, Collisions dance follow the path of Rambert by linking ballet technique and contemporary expressiveness. Hagit Yakira's duet Oh Baby was devised through the multi-cultural identity of the two dancers.

Yakira talks of her Israeli heritage as an important influence, even if just to reject what she sees as a violence inherent in modern choreography. While Oh Baby is hardly an explicitly "Jewish" piece, her acknowledgment of cultural identity suggests that dance is heavily influenced by locality and upbringing. If it isn't as simple as an equation – an English dancer is not necessarily going to be inspired by Morris – a choreographer's social and national context informs their creations. This undercuts any idea that dance can be built on a universal vocabulary.

An aesthetic is less an expression of shared human values than a specific set of influences given form. Within this, certain nationalities have recognisable trends. When Theatre Di Capua advertise Maria as "Russian stuff", they are appealing to fans of the surreal Derevo, Akhe or Theatre Do. Ballet is a signifier of Western dance. Korean performance has its own logic.

Last year, Iona Kewney demonstrated that even the body's shape doesn't limit artistic expression: Janice Parker and SDT deliberately involve dancers who are differently abled. Dance is at its most exciting when it is honest, and strives to portray not the physical but the soul behind it. Yet that soul is not an abstract entity, created in heaven and stripped of context. It is formed by influence, and that influence is cultural. Different nations have different aesthetics, and the Fringe features enough diversity to allow some consideration of their impact on our shared physical form.