I’ve had a lot of feedback lately — some thoughtful, some critical — about my recent commentary, Aboriginal Entitlement. That’s fine. These are conversations worth having.
But what struck me wasn’t the disagreement. It was how quickly the conversation shuts down the moment you ask a simple question:
What is happening to private property rights in this country?
Let me be clear right off the top. No one is coming to take your house tomorrow. That’s not the issue.
The issue is more subtle than that — and in some ways, more important.
What we’re seeing, particularly in British Columbia, is a steady shift in how land is treated under the law. The Cowichan decision is one example, but it doesn’t exist in isolation. It builds on years of court rulings that have expanded the concept of Aboriginal title.
And that concept matters.
Because Aboriginal title, as the courts have described it, is not just symbolic. It carries real legal weight. It can affect how land is used, how decisions are made, and who ultimately has a say.
That’s where the conversation should be.
If you own a home, your title hasn’t disappeared. You can still sell it. You can still live in it. You can still benefit from it.
But ownership, in a practical sense, has always been about more than a name on a document. It’s about control.
What can you do with your land?
Who do you need permission from?
How long does it take to get that permission?
Those answers are changing.
And they’re changing in ways that most people don’t fully understand yet.
Layer on top of that the adoption of frameworks like UNDRIP, with its emphasis on “free, prior, and informed consent,” and you start to see the direction this is heading.
It means more voices at the table. In theory, that sounds reasonable. In practice, it often means more uncertainty.
Projects slow down. Decisions become harder to predict. And the legal landscape becomes less clear.
Again, none of that means your property is being taken. But it does mean the ground beneath your rights is shifting.
What concerns me just as much is the tone of the conversation.
There is a growing reluctance to question any of this. Raise a concern, and you’re quickly labelled. That’s what I meant when I talked about the “weaponization of guilt.”
It’s not a legal argument. It’s a way of avoiding one.
And it doesn’t serve anyone well.
The same applies to land acknowledgements. I’ve been criticized for not participating in them. That’s fine. My concern is not with history. It’s with the way certain ideas are repeated, often without reflection, and how those ideas begin to shape expectations — and eventually, law.
Words have consequences. Especially when they’re tied to legal claims.
So where does that leave us?
Private property in Canada is still very much intact. But it is no longer as simple or as settled as it once was.
The real question isn’t whether you own your land.
It’s how much control you’ll have over it five, ten, or twenty years from now — and who else will have a say.
That’s not alarmism. That’s a conversation worth having.
If you want to hear the full discussion, I break this down in more detail on the latest episode of Grey Matter.
Because whether people agree with me or not, this is not an issue that should be ignored.
