Nuanced. - 208. Aboriginal Title vs. Private Property: Cowichan Tribes Court Ruling Explained

Episode Date: September 22, 2025

The 2025 Cowichan Tribes v. Canada ruling is shaking Metro Vancouver. Chief Aaron Pete explains its challenge to the Land Title Act, the impact on Aboriginal title, property rights, homeowners and governments, and the path to balancing justice with stability.Send us a textThe Dom Sub Living BDSM and Kink PodcastCurious about Dominance & submission? Real stories, real fun, really kinky.Listen on: Apple Podcasts   SpotifySupport the shownuancedmedia.ca

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...and... ...a... If there's one thing Canadians love more than hockey, it's property. Your house, your condo, your cabin on the lake, these aren't just buildings, their life goals, and our economy, our politics, even our sense of self-worth are wrapped up in the belief that ownership equals security. In fact, Canada's entire retirement system basically says, don't worry about pensions, just buy a house. and pray that it triples in value. And for much of the past 50 years, that strategy has worked. So when a court decision comes along that threatens to complicate that story,

Canadians freak out. Which brings us to this. On August 7, 2025, the BC Supreme Court issued a ruling in Cowich and Tribes versus Canada, confirming Aboriginal title over lands in Richmond. Yes, Richmond, the middle of Metro, Vancouver. This was the first time in Canadian history that a court recognized indigenous title in an urban setting that includes private property. Suddenly, Canada's sacred cow, home ownership, found itself standing nose to nose with something even older and awkwardly,

more legally senior, Aboriginal title. Now, how did we get here? Well, to understand this, we have to zoom out because Canadian's relationship with land has changed dramatically in the past few decades. In the 1990s, the idea of starting a meeting with a land acknowledgement would have confused everyone. You'd get blank stares and maybe someone asking, sorry, are you talking about selling me a timeshare? Back then, Canada's official conversation about indigenous rights was all about treaties, constitutional recognition, and the aftermath of the OCA crisis. In 1996, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal peoples, a massive 4,000-page report warned that Canada's relationship with First Nations was broken and unsustainable. It called for recognizing indigenous

governments, respecting land rights, and creating new treaties. But land acknowledgments were nowhere to be found. Fast track forward to 2015 when the Truth and Reconciliation Commission dropped its final report and the 94 calls to action. That report didn't mandate acknowledgements either, but it created the cultural space for them. And almost overnight, land acknowledgments spread everywhere in schools, in universities, in city councils, in government, in email signatures. Suddenly, Canadians were calling themselves settlers or guests and starting speeches with, I'd like to acknowledge, I'm on the unseated ancestral territory of whatever people they were near. To some people, this was a powerful step, a small but meaningful act of truth.

For others, it was a slippery slope into existential dread. Add in protest slogans like land back and commentators like Candace Malcolm warning that homeowners are about to lose everything, and suddenly a simple land acknowledgement sounds like a prelude to an eviction notice, which brings us back to the Cowichin decision, because this case takes all those anxieties, the guilt, the gestures, the fear, the property obsession, and puts them all on trial, literally. And here's why it matters. For the first time, a Canadian court said Aboriginal title doesn't vanish just because land was handed out in fee simple. The court even declared that some crown grants, including to the city of Richmond, were legally

invalid. And it raises the question, if Aboriginal title can exist in Richmond, where else could it exist? Vancouver, Victoria, or your backyard. So today, we're going to break this down. The history of Aboriginal people in Canada and title, what the Cowichan decision actually said beyond the headlines, the politics from indigenous nations who see justice to conservatives

who see chaos to governments who are stuck in the middle. And finally, what I think this means for Canada's future and the most likely outcomes. Because make no mistake, this isn't just about Richmond or even about the Cowichin people.

It's about Canada and Canadians being forced to confront a question, it has dodged for 150 years. What happens when the foundations of property system are built on land that was never yours to give away? History of First Nations title in Canada. So before we get into the Cowichin case, let's talk about how we got here, because Aboriginal title in Canada isn't new. It's been around longer than Canada itself. In fact, the crown has been acknowledging indigenous land rights since, well, before Canada even existed. The Royal Proclamation of 1763 is where we'll start.

The Royal Proclamation of 1763, issued by King George III after Britain won the seven years war, it basically said, congratulations Britain, owns North America now, except for the parts that belong to indigenous people. The proclamation made it clear, indigenous nations had land rights, and only the crown could purchase those lands through treaties. It was a way to stop settlers from running around with shovels and flags, claiming whatever land they wanted. In other words, the very foundation of Canada is an admission that indigenous title exists. And that proclamation wasn't just symbolic. Canadian courts, including the Supreme Court in Calder, 1973, and Delcumieu in 1997, have cited it as proof that Aboriginal title didn't vanish just because Europeans showed up with canons and confidence. But here's the kicker.

While the Royal Proclamation recognized indigenous title in theory, colonial governments spend the next century doing the exact opposite in practice. Enter the reserve system. Instead of negotiating fair land agreements across the board, governments began carving out tiny parcels of land and called them reserves. Think of them as Canada's original designated parking spots for indigenous peoples, except where they were always far smaller than promised, often placed in the poorest soil, and came with endless restrictions. And here's the crucial part.

Reserves aren't owned by indigenous names. nations. Their federal lands held in trust by the crown under the Indian Act of 1876. Communities can live on them, farm them, even lease them out, but they can't sell them. Expand them without Ottawa's approval or exercise the same authority a municipality has. In legal terms, indigenous people became tenants on their own land, while Ottawa played the landlord. This legal framework was reinforced in the Constitution itself. Section 9124 of the British North America Act 1867 gave Ottawa jurisdiction over, quote, Indians and the lands reserved for the Indians.

The system wasn't an accident. It was deliberate. But here's a twist that many Canadians don't know. The idea of reserves didn't be given. until 1867, it started as early as 1817 when Lord Selkirk, or also known as Thomas Douglas, had set aside what were called anticipatory reserves for First Nations in the Red River region. He believed, at least rhetorically, that indigenous people should have some land protected for them as settlers, for them as settlers arrived.

Selkirk even wrote that indigenous nations had an incontrovertible right to the soil. Yet even when the supposedly progressive vision assumed indigenous people would eventually assimilate into a settler of society, reserves were never designed for permanence. They were designed as holding zones. In British Columbia, the colony's first governor, James Douglas, initially recognized indigenous land rights more expensive. Explicitly than later officials. According to the Canadian encyclopedia, Douglas stated in 1850 that the Hudson's Bay Company had no wish to interfere with the lands, with the rights of the natives to the lands they occupy.

Under his leadership, the Douglas treaties on Vancouver Island promised indigenous signatories that they could retain their village sites and enclosed fields. But even Douglas' policy was limited. On the mainland, as settlement accelerated, he shifted from negotiating treaties to simply designating reserves. His vision was paternalistic. Reserves would confine indigenous peoples to farming plots under colonial oversight. As historian Cole Harris notes in making native space, Douglas' reserves were small and intended to facilitate assimilation rather than safeguard sovereignty. and then came along Joseph Trutch, B.C.'s commissioner of lands and works in the 1860s.

Trutch openly referred to indigenous people as savages and claimed they had no real concept of land ownership. In an 1864 letter, he wrote, The Indians have no rights to the lands they claim, nor are they of any actual value or utility to them. And this was quoted by Harris in making native spaces, and the dictionary of Canadian biography entry on Trutch. He then proceeded to slash reserve sizes across BC sometimes by more than 90%. Imagine your nation had 2,000 acres. Trutch arrives with a pen and a map and says you actually get 200.

You're welcome. That was BC's land policy, and it was baked into Confederation. The thinking behind Trutch's downsizing was chilling in its logic. He believed First Nations would eventually disappear, whether through assimilation or extinction. Why preserve thousands of acres for people who, in his eyes, were destined to vanish?

So while the Royal Proclamation of 1763 recognized indigenous land rights, the reserve system, and especially Truch's cuts, systematically dispossessed indigenous peoples of over 95% of their territories in British Columbia. Recognition on paper, but eraser in practice. This leads us into the Section 35 of the Constitution Act of 1982. Let's fast forward there, when Canada patriated its Constitution. Section 35 of the New Constitution Act declared the existing Aboriginal and treaty rights

of the Aboriginal peoples of Canada are hereby affirm. and recognized. That sounded powerful. A constitutional guarantee. Except, and this is, peak Canada, nobody defined what those rights actually were. It was like saying, congratulations, you have rights, but we'll get back to you on the details. But Section 35 didn't appear out of thin air. It was fought for when Pierre Trudeau's government set out to patriot the constitution from Britain in the late 1970s,

The original drafts contained no mention of indigenous people at all. As historian Brian Swartz notes, Aboriginal rights were at the best an afterthought. It was only after sustained indigenous advocacy that Section 35 was inserted. In 1980, hundreds of indigenous leaders and community members boarded what became known as the Constitution Express, a train organized by the Union of BC Indian chiefs to travel. from Vancouver all the way to Ottawa. They were protesting their exclusion from the new constitutional framework. George Manuel, then president of the union, described it as a train to Ottawa to demand that our rights not be left on the platform.

The movement drew national and international attention, putting real pressure on Trudeau's government. And the lobbying worked after rounds of constitutional conferences and political maneuvering. Indigenous leaders secured the inclusion of Section 35. But even then, the language was vague. It recognized and affirmed Aboriginal and treaty rights, but without defining what those rights were, or how they were to be enforced. That's why, for the last 40 years,

indigenous nations have had to prove their rights case by case in courts. The Calder decision in 1973 cracked to the door, door open, recognizing for the first time at the Supreme Court, the Aboriginal title exists at common law. Delcumue in 1997 defined what title means, that it is not just right to the land itself. It's not just a traditional uses case. Until Shill Colton, 2014, it was a historic decision the first time a Canadian court issued a declaration of Aboriginal title over a specific territory.

each case chiseling out what Section 35 was supposed to guarantee in the first place. And that's why cases like Cowichin today fit squarely in this lineage, because Section 35 promised recognition. But the content of those rights is still being hammered out through costly litigation, nation by nation, and generation by generation. Now, treaties, Canada really has too much. main categories. The first are historic treaties.

These were agreements like the Robinson Treaties of 1850 in Ontario and later the numbered treaties from 1 to 11, signed between 1871 and 1921 covering most of the prairies northern Ontario, parts of Quebec and the Northwest Territories.

On the one hand, these treaties were Canada's way of providing legal certainty. They opened land for settlement, railways, and resource development, while making formal commitments to First Nations, reserves, annual payments, and guarantees of hunting, fishing, and trapping rights, as long as the sun shines and the river flow. To governments, this was the compromise.

Indigenous nations kept specific rights, while Canada secured land for growth. On the other hand, many First Nations leaders later said they understood treaties differently, as agreements to share the land, not permanently surrender it. And in practice, the crown often fell short of its own promises. Reserves were smaller than expected. Rations sometimes never arrived. And resource rights were restricted. The settlement, the moment settlers or companies wanted more access.

So while Canada saw these treaties as final settlements, many indigenous communities viewed them as bargains that were broken. Then come in modern treaties. Starting in the 1970s, after court cases like called or confirmed Aboriginal title still existed, Ottawa and provinces began negotiating new, comprehensive claims with nations that never signed historic treaties. These modern treaties, like the Nishka's final agreement or the Tawasin Treaty in 2009, were designed to bring clarity. They provided cash settlements, parcels of land and land. fee simple, and recognition of self-government powers.

From a government perspective, modern treaties are successes. They provide stability for investment, legal certainty, for land ownership, and a framework for indigenous self-governance. But from the perspective of some indigenous critics, they still involve giving up broad title claims in exchange for a fraction of traditional territories. And here's where B.C. stands out. Apart from the small Douglas treaties on Vancouver Island in the 1850s and Treaty 8 in the northeast, the rest of the province entered Confederation in 1871 without treaties.

To the government of the day, this was pragmatic. BC wanted land open for settlers without the lengthy negotiations Ottawa had run into on the prairies. But the legal consequence is that much. of BC is now described as unseeded territory, land that was never formally surrendered. That absence of treaties is what made the Haida's nation's 2024 rising tide title land's agreement so significant. For the first time in Canadian history, a provincial government formally recognized Aboriginal title to an entire territory, all of Haida Gwai, without forcing the nation to prove

it through lengthy and decades worth of litigation. The agreement preserves existing private property rights, but it establishes a transition period in which HIDA and provincial laws will be reconciled and land management decisions will be shared. For the HIDA, this wasn't a surrender or extinguishment of title. It was land back through governance, a practical recognition that their jurisdiction never went away. So depending on your perspective, you get two very different takeaways. From the government's point of view, treaties, historic or modern, are the way to resolve uncertainty and move forward.

For many indigenous nations' point of view, the absence of treaties in BC means their rights to land were never dealt with at all, and agreements like rise and tide are long overdue steps to correcting that. And when you build cities, suburbs, and Costco parking lots on land that was never formally seated, eventually, a court is going to notice, which is exactly what happened in Cowich and Tribes, First Canada. Finally, Undrip, the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples adopted by the UN General Assembly in 2007 is a relevant place to also discuss. Now, Canada's originally voted against it, standing shoulder to shoulder with the U.S., Australia, and New Zealand, basically the colonial settler states club.

Why? Because Undrips scared the hell out of governments. It recognized that indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination and, crucially, the right to their lands, territories, and resources. One of its central principles is free, prior, and informed consent, meaning you can't just build pipelines, mines, or subdivisions on indigenous land without meaningful agreement. And let's be honest, Canada's entire economy, since Confederation has built on exactly that. So of course, Ottawa panicked, if you admit indigenous peoples have a right to the land, then suddenly the question becomes,

what about all the land already taken, sold, and developed? That's not just a political headache. That's an existential legal migraine. But international pressure mounted, and in 2016, Canada officially endorsed UNRIP. Then, in 2021, British Columbia went even further and passed the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People's Act, also known as DRIPA,

committing the province to bring its laws into alignment with Undrip. Why does that matter for title? Because Undrip isn't just about consultation. It's about recognition. Article 26 of Undrip says indigenous peoples have the right to the lands, territories, and resources which they have traditionally owned, occupied, or otherwise used, or acquired. That is Aboriginal title, word for word.

So when BC says it will align its laws with UNRIP, it's basically acknowledging indigenous people still have rights to land, even in areas Canada has long pretended, were settled. And courts, like in Cowichin, are now putting legal teeth into that principle. In short, Undrip closes the gap between lofty promises and hard law. It forces governments to stop steamrolling indigenous nations. with the old colonial assumption, we already own this and you're just lucky we let you live there. Instead, UNRIP reframes the conversation around this to say, this was always yours and now we actually have to deal with the reality.

That's why UNRIP ties directly into Aboriginal title. It takes what indigenous leaders have been arguing since the Royal Proclamation. The title exists until it's properly done. dealt with, and puts it on the world stage as an international human right. And that makes it harder and harder for governments or even courts to pretend otherwise, bringing it all back to Cowichin. Because when the court recognized title in Richmond, it wasn't some radical new invention. It was the logical culmination of centuries of promises and law,

from the royal proclamation to Joseph Trutch's land cuts. to Section 35, to Undreb, all pointing to the same reality. Aboriginal title exists. It is real. And Canada has been trying and failing to wiggle out of that truth for 150 years. So what was the Cowichin decision? On August 7, 2025, the BC Supreme Court released its ruling in Cowichin Tribes v. Canada. the case had been in the courts for more than a decade, with over 500 trial days, the longest in Canadian history.

At its core, Cowichan tribes claimed Aboriginal title to roughly 1,846 acres of land along the south arm of the Fraser River in Richmond. Land they called Delectanus, a historic village and fishing site. The court found, yes, Cowichin proved Aboriginal title to part of that. area, including submerged riverbeds. Yes, they proved an Aboriginal right to fish in the south arm of the Fraser River protected under Section 35 of the Constitution. And no, BC never had the authority to extinguish that title by granting fee simple ownership to settlers or municipalities. The court even declared that Canada and the city of Richmond's current fee simple titles were invalid. Though it suspended that declaration for 18 months,

to allow for negotiations. What does that mean? This decision is historic because it's the first time Aboriginal title has been confirmed in an urban area where there are existing private property owners. Previous cases like Delgamue in 1997 and Tishol Colton in 2014 dealt with more remote or rural lands. Courts had carefully avoided ruling on private lands. Here, the court said plainly,

Aboriginal title can exist alongside fee-simple ownership. And when the two clash, it's not about extinguishing one or the other, but reconciling them. That's a major shift because it suggests that the Torin's land system, the Torin's land title system, the backbone of certainty for Canadian real estate, is not absolute when it comes up against Aboriginal title. Title certificates that were once thought ironclad may not be. In practice, this doesn't mean homeowners are being evicted, but it does mean the province and Canada have a constitutional duty to negotiate with Cowichan tribes and potentially adjust how land enrichment is managed, developed, or compensated. It also signals something bigger.

If Aboriginal title can exist in Richmond, it could exist in Vancouver, Victoria, any city in BC where no treaties were signed. So first, we'll start with Gowlings, WLG. In their post-decision memo, bluntly titled Aboriginal title in Metro Vancouver, a lot of unfinished business in this province, they didn't sugarcoat it. The Cowichin decision confirms Aboriginal title in an urban area and highlights the potential. for uncertainty regarding fee simple interests. It emphasizes the fact that there is a lot of unfinished business in this province. That's law firm language for the foundation of BC's land title system just cracked. The ruling directly challenges the principle of indefeasibility in the land title act.

The guarantee that once your name is on a deed, your ownership is final. For decades, that's been treated as rock solace. the ruling suggests it's not as absolute as we thought then there's miller titularly their take is less about panic and more about responsibility they argue the ruling goes beyond recognizing title it actually imposes a fiduciary duty on bc to reconcile aboriginal title with existing fee simple property to quote them british columbia now owes a fiduciary obligation to the kowice nation in respect of their Aboriginal title lands, which include the private fee simple lands. In other words, governments can't sit back and wait for the next lawsuit. They now have a constitutional duty to get proactive, to negotiate, to reconcile, and to take Aboriginal title seriously. But why do these perspectives matter?

So two, leading legal voices, two very different tones. Gowlings is sounding alarm bills about uncertainty, and Miller-Titterly is pointing to accountability and responsibility. Together, they capture the crossroads we're at. On the one hand, the Cowichin decision unsettles the bedrock of BC's property system, creating fear for homeowners who had thought their titles were iron-clad. On the other, it reframes reconciliation, not as endless litigation, but as an ongoing duty, a responsibility the crown can't deny any longer.

We'll be back after a quick break. Hi, this is Alessandra, the host of Dom Sub Living. Each week, we dive into the world of dominance and submission. It's 50 Shades of Gray meets real life. This show is for you when you're feeling curious and in the mood for something playful, eye opening, and yes, sometimes a little spicy. I promise you'll learn something new, laugh along the way, and maybe even discover a side of yourself you didn't know was there. Please join us because no matter who you are, there's a place for you in Domson Living.

Please follow the link in the show notes. This is why the Cowichin ruling is so divisive. It's not just a legal technicality. It forces Canadians to wrestle with two truths at the same time. One, the Aboriginal title is constitutionally real and that Canadians still need certainty in their own property system. And if we don't deal with those truths, honestly,

fear will fill the void. And fear, as history keeps showing us, rarely leads to good decisions. So what are its more controversial aspects? This is where the fear, years, hopes, and politics collide. For indigenous peoples, the ruling is validation. It proves what they've been saying for over 150 years.

Their land rights were never extinguished, not even the heart of Metro Vancouver. It's a chance for justice, recognition, and meaningful negotiations about land and resources. For governments, it's a headache. The certainty of BC's land title system is, now in question, if upheld on appeal, the ruling could force governments to negotiate not just enrichment, but across the province, destabilizing assumptions that underpinned everything from infrastructure projects to property markets. For private landowners, it's anxiety-inducing. Even though the court said private homes aren't being stripped

away. The very idea that Aboriginal title can overlap with fee simple ownership raises fears about property values, mortgages, and future development. Commentators like Candace Malcolm have leaned hard into this fear, warning Canadians that decisions like Cowichin are a slippery slope toward losing their backyards. For reconciliation as a whole, this is a real stress test. The court itself admitted this creates unfinished business that must be dealt with politically, not just legally. That means negotiation, compromise, and recognition, things Canada has historically avoided in favor of top-down control.

And that's where Kelsalim's response matters. In his piece, the truth about the Cowichin title decision, he points out that the Cowichin never asked for private homes. Their focus was on land still held by government. and public authorities. For private property, the ruling is about negotiation, not about dispossession. Kelsim's warning is clear. The panic you hear in some headlines is fear through confusion.

The truth is much less dramatic and much more important. Aboriginal title is a constitutional reality, and the Cowichin ruling shows it can be reconciled with existing property rights through negotiation. So the big picture is Cowichin a threat or an opportunity? Well, critics see it as destabilization of property rights. Supporters see it as long overdue justice. The court frames it as reconciliation. The Aboriginal title is real.

Private property is real. And the Crown has 18 months to figure out how they coexist. In short, Cowichin is controversial because it forces Canada to confront the one issue it has dodged for 150 years, which is what happens when your property system sits on the land that was never yours to give away. Politics. So we've covered the history, the law, and what the Cowichin decision actually means. But as with all big rulings, the real battle isn't just in the courts, it's in politics.

And, oh boy, does this one bring out the division? So what does the left think? On the political left, the reaction has been mostly celebratory. For progressives, this decision is proof that reconciliation isn't just a buzzword. It's not just land acknowledgments before hockey games or orange shirts once a year. It's the legal system saying yes, title is real, and yes, it applies even in the heart of Metro Vancouver. For the left, Cowchin is what reconciliation looks like when you stop being symbolic. and start being serious.

And they're not wrong. The ruling gives weight to something indigenous people have been saying for generations. This land was never surrendered and it is unseated. But the left also tends to gloss over the practical side. They talk about justice, but not about how messy, expensive, and complicated reconciliation in urban real estate actually is. It's one thing to say land back. it's another to work out who pays when a condo developer in Richmond suddenly finds themselves

negotiating with both the city and Cowichin tribes, which is very complicated. So what do First Nations think? For First Nations, this decision is deeply validating. For the Cowichin Alliance, it's a recognition of a broken promise in the 1850s when Tluckness was sold out from under them. For indigenous nations across BC, it's precedent. It proves Aboriginal title isn't limited to remote forests or mountains. It can exist in cities, ports, and suburbs.

That said, many indigenous leaders know the fight isn't over. The province has already said it will appeal. Negotiations will be slow, and governments have a long track record of dragging their feet. But symbolically, Cowichin shifts the ground. The courts are backing what First Nations have been saying for 150 years. The land question is unfinished business. What does the BC government think? That brings us to the provincial government.

Caught in the middle. Attorney General Nikki Sharma responded quickly saying BC would appeal and seek a stay. She warned this ruling could have significant unintended consequences for fee simple private. private property rights in B.C. That must be reconsidered by a higher court. In other words, this is too big for one trial judge. We need clarity from the Court of Appeal, maybe even the Supreme Court of Canada. Sharma acknowledged the ruling's importance, but frame it as leaving lots of questions

about how Aboriginal title interacts with the B.C. Land's title system. From Victoria's perspective, the ruling isn't just a moral or legal. legal issue. It's a potential destabilizer of the entire real estate system. And in a province where housing affordability is already a political wildfire, that's no small thing. What do conservatives think? Now, conservatives, and I'm painting a broad strokes here, tend to see this as a nightmare scenario. For them, this ruling threatens the certainty of private property, the backbone of capitalism, mortgages, and yes, backyard barbecues. For many on the right, land acknowledgments are already a bridge too far, a kind of ritual

guilt. They resent being asked to perform. So when a court ruling seems to move from symbolic acknowledgement to actual legal recognition, the fear is, what's next? Are they taking my house? And this fear isn't just about economics. It's cultural. land acknowledgments and decisions like Cowichin

make some conservatives feel like strangers in their own country. Like they're being told, you don't really belong here. Conservative commentators have leaned heavily into that fear framing Cowichin as a slippery slope. The narrative is simple. Today it's Richmond. Tomorrow it's your backyard. It's a powerful line because it taps into that deep anxiety

about security and ownership. But here's the problem. It's not what the court said. The court was explicit. Nobody's evicting homeowners. The ruling is about negotiating with governments over public lands and reconciling them overlapping rights. As Kelssela pointed out in his article, the truth is about Aboriginal title is about

coexistence. It doesn't rip up property deeds or evict homeowners. It sets out a framework where government. governments must negotiate in good faith. So conservative commentary may work as politics, but it doesn't reflect the law. It creates fear, but it doesn't describe the ruling. So what's the bigger picture? This is the political landscape.

The left sees progress. First Nations see justice. The BC government sees uncertainty and risk. Conservatives see danger. And commentators see an opportunity. to inflame anxieties. But the court, the court sees reconciliation. Messy, imperfect, negotiated reconciliation.

And if we're being honest, that's the only path forward. Because Canada can't keep saying unseeded territory in speeches while pretending it doesn't matter in practice. Cowich enforces the country to live up to its own words. Here's where I want to step out of the courtroom analysis and speak personally. I've sat through countless events where land acknowledgments are read, sometimes with sincerity, and to be honest, sometimes with script. I think we've reached a point where they're said too often and risk becoming a lip service. I don't believe anyone should be forced or pressured to say words they don't believe.

A land acknowledgement that comes from compulsion isn't reconciliation. It's theater. It should be optional and heartfelt, not mandatory, and hollow. And that connects to the Cowchin decision. Legally, this ruling is historic. Politically, it's a challenge because it doesn't just live in the law books. It lands in people's living rooms for homeowners already struggling with the fear they'll never own a home in Canada. The idea the Aboriginal title might overlap with private property rights sounds terrifying.

Fear makes people irrational. Fear is powerful. Fear makes people say things and vote for things. They might later regret. That's the danger. This ruling, while a legal victory for First Nations, could substantiate the idea that Canadians are settlers or unwelcome guests. That kind of framing risks turning reconciliation into an us versus them narrative. First Nations on one side, ordinary Canadians on the other.

That doesn't build bridges. It builds divides. As a First Nations chief, I'm glad we're moving beyond rhetoric and beyond empty land acknowledgements. Case law, like Cowichin, helps define the real legal relationship between the Crown and Indigenous nations. that matters. But as a Canadian, I don't want to see our communities torn apart through this process. I hear the argument that we are all Canadians, and I believe there's truth to that. Yet decisions like this can create distance.

And here's the clarified metaphor. If that distance isn't filled with honest dialogue, it will be filled with misinformation and fear. And once fear takes over. over? It's like dropping chum in the water, suddenly everyone's swimming in shark territory. This case will be appealed. Hopefully, the higher courts will give more clarity. But legal clarity is not enough. If First Nation leaders don't step forward to explain what this means, not just for us, but for everyone, then other voices will define it for us. And those voices will not build bridges.

We need to hold two truths at once. One, the Aboriginal title exists and that it matters. And two, Canada only works if everyone, indigenous and non-Indigenous, feels like they belong here together. If we lose sight of either truth, reconciliation collapses into either empty symbolism or bitter division. Conclusion. The Cowichin decision doesn't do. just test the limits of Canadian law. It tests the limits of our ability to live together. At the beginning, we talked about Canada's obsession with property, houses, condos, cabins.

They aren't just assets. There are national security blanket. Owning a home is supposed to mean safety, stability, and dignity. And that's why this ruling hit so hard. Because for the first time, Canada's sacred cow, the deed in your hand, came. face to face with something older, deeper, and legally senior, Aboriginal title. And here's the thing, Aboriginal title is real. It didn't vanish when cities rose, when treaties failed, or when Crown grants tried to bury it in paperwork. For 150 years, indigenous peoples carried that truth, and now the courts have acknowledged it. But Canadians also live another truth. We need stability. And right now, that's stability. And right now, that's

is fragile. Inflation, though slowing to 1.7% year over year, still hurts when rent is up 5.7%, 5.1% and groceries up 3.4%. Trump's tariffs have already shrunk Canada's GDP by 1.6% rattling exports and investment. Ad-shifting geopolitics and a shaky housing market, and Canadians already feel like their footing is a house of cards in a gale. Now layer the Cowichin ruling on top for homeowners living on a financial knife's edge. The idea that private property might overlap with Aboriginal title sounds less like history and more like instability. Fear is a powerful force and fear doesn't build bridges. It digs trenches. That's the risk here.

A legal victory for First Nations could, if poorly explained, reinforce a narrative that Canadians are just, settlers, unwelcome in their own country. That story turns reconciliation into an us-vers-them mentality. It divides the very people it's meant to bring together. As a chief, I welcome the legal progress. Words alone are not enough. Law must affirm what acknowledgement began. But as a Canadian, I also worry if indigenous leaders don't step up to explain what this

means silence will be filled with fear, misinformation, and resentment. And once that water fills, it's no longer safe to swim. Yes, this case will be appealed. The courts may clarify the law, but clarity and law is not unity in a society. Unity requires conversation, engagement, and trust. We need to hold two truths at once. Aboriginal title exists and it demands recognition, But Canada only works if everyone, indigenous and non-indigenous, feel that they belong here, lose either truth and reconciliation collapses into hollow gestures on one side or bitterness on the other. Because at the end of the day, reconciliation won't be decided by judges and robes or politicians with microphones. It will be decided in classrooms, in workplaces, in city halls, and at kitchen tables. It will depend on whether we let fear define us or whether we build trust in its place.

It will be decided by whether we see one another as adversaries locked in a zero-sum fight over land and history or as neighbors who share the same home. And that home is not just soil and property lines. It is the communities we've built, the rivers and mountains we depend on, and the fragile sense of belonging that makes Canada possible at all. If we approach each other as adversaries, reconciliation collapses into walls and resentment. If we approach each other as neighbors, reconciliation becomes the difficult but necessary work

of sharing space, sharing responsibility, and sharing a future. That is the challenge of the Cowichin decision, to prove that justice for First Nations and stability for Canadians are not opposites. but two sides of the same promise. The only question now is whether we have the courage, the humility, and the patience to live up to that promise together.