According to the Supreme Court of Canada, Aboriginal title is a property right, albeit of a distinctive kind. Most significantly, the right is subject to an inherent limit: title lands cannot be used in a way that deprives present and future generations of the right to use the land. Aboriginal title is also encumbered by a restraint on alienation, and has its source in Aboriginal legal systems that predate and survive the assertion of Crown sovereignty. In this paper, we argue that these features of Aboriginal title are not burdensome judicial innovations on a property right, but are instead the essential contours of a sovereign right. That is, the Court’s own description of Aboriginal title does not comport with sound theoretical understandings of a property right. Aboriginal title is much more akin to a right of sovereignty—the right to make laws about the use of a territory. Aboriginal title is the right of law-making jurisdiction over the title lands. The existing literature, while edging towards the view that Aboriginal title is a sovereign right, has lacked the unifying theoretical basis needed to decisively dispatch the Court’s property paradigm. In particular, all extant accounts find the inherent limit inexplicable. The account in this article theorizes and explains the inherent limit, as well as all of the sui generis elements of Aboriginal title, and shows their interconnectedness. Our view additionally answers a number of questions that the Court’s property paradigm does not, including: (1) what laws primarily govern title lands; (2) who has standing to question whether any particular use of title land violates the inherent limit; (3) what is the status of private land interests that overlap with Aboriginal title lands; and (4) how should the doctrine of Aboriginal title be updated in light of jurisprudential developments emphasizing that Indigenous peoples never ceded their sovereignty?

If land is divine and ought not be bought or sold,1 then bounded land, that which we term territory2 regardless of its form of being bounded, cannot be bought or sold without divine assent either. It may be defended, nurtured, utilised but not bought or sold. In defence of this is the human right to life and liberty. Were life and liberty to depend on access to land or territory then no hindrance would stand to merit. Theologically,3 the Divine created the land so the land belongs to the Divine.4 Similarly where humans labour (to work) and create (to make or build), such which is created is the property of the human, whether it is manufactured, built, sown. And from these personal properties flow the rights and privileges of personal property: alienation, transfer, purchase.5

This article claims that legal time has excluded and submerged an important sense of time inside structured time. Structured time has two forms. Each form of structured time identifies a beginning to a legal order (droit, Recht) as a whole. The one form has focussed upon a critical date. The critical date is exemplified by a basic text, such as the Constitution, or the judicially identified date of settlement, sovereignty or territorial control of a territory by the state. The second form of structured time has begun with the judicial recognition of a value such as the rule of law, the protection of minorities, equal treatment, or due process of law. With the two forms of structured time, jurists have proceeded to identify a binding law. Such a law has been considered a rule, principle, doctrine or other intelligible standard. Once structured legal time has thus begun, events of legal relevance have been represented by jurists in a distinct phase or period of time. Each such a distinct period is parsed through reference to its named, or labelled, starting point and the latter, in turn and ultimately, with reference to the beginning of the very constitutional order as a whole. Legal justification and the conceptual structures of justification are presumed to follow suit. The article argues, however, that another sense of time, excluded and submerged inside structured time, is experienced. An experienced event, manifested as a discrete incident in experiential time, opens to a condition of the possibility of the existence of law.

The availability of redress for historic wrongs committed against Indigenous people turns on a number of morally complex and politically charged issues. From the standpoint of moral theory, the problems of redress have been given articulate voice by Jeremy Waldron whose writings have come to take the shape of conventional wisdom. Waldron’s arguments are three-fold: 1) counterfactuals are impossible to verify, and so it is impossible to know how we are to put injured parties into the position they would have been had there been no injustice; 2) entitlements fade over time, and so whatever right to redress may have once existed, the basis for those entitlements is now eroded; and 3) injustices can be overtaken by circumstances, such that what was once unjust becomes just. In this article I argue that each of these objections to redressing of historic wrongs is mistaken, and they are mistaken in part because of Waldron’s failure to recognize that the injustices are not merely historic, the injustices are also contemporary and on-going wrongs committed against modern-day Indigenous people. There is no denying that circumstances have changed, but that does not eliminate the need to face up to the problems of injustice in the circumstances in which they occur: the present day, and we must face these challenges despite the fact that they present difficult choices and the probability of sacrifice.

I have tried to show how criticism of aboriginal orthodoxy in discourse and measures taken by the current Conservative government and private commentators have set in motion a process of contempt, risking the harm associated with colonialism. Another critique of aboriginal orthodoxy, as presented by Jean-Jacques Simard, claims that First Nations are entitled to a certain level of self-government in defence of the rights of the abstract person: “it is first and foremost simply as human beings that all Amerindians possess the same rights as anyone else….” Yet this option ignores the history of First Nations’ relationships with French Canadians, English Canadians and the British. While appeal to the abstract person can protect people from a threat, it cannot eliminate that threat. It seems clear that contempt towards aboriginals is still present and that their emancipation without an honourable historical justification would also lead to the exacerbation of racism against aboriginals. To make mutual recognition possible between aboriginal and non-aboriginal, we need to have shared criteria for evaluation. It would seem, therefore, that if we were willing to integrate First Nations into the Canadian constitutional order by fully recognizing them, we must find a common project. If the Canadian government were to move more in the direction of an ecological vision of development rather than in the direction of a predatory capitalism based on infinite economic growth, I believe it would be easier to secure First Nations’ sense of belonging to Canada and to agree on models for joint territorial management. That awakening rings a bell we must hear: if seniority on the land and the role played by national groups in the founding of Canada are erased by a unitary, multicultural and monarchist vision of the country, the odds are high that Canadians of diverse origins will eventually suffer the blows of renewed authoritarianism and contempt.

Jeremy Waldron has plausibly argued that historical injustices can be superseded by serious efforts to achieve justice in the present and future. This essay considers what it might mean to arrange things justly in the relevant way, focusing on the work of John Rawls as our best existing template for conceptualizing justice of this kind. The essay outlines ways in which a Rawlsian system of social justice seems unable to meet its own normative aspirations and unable to provide a model for overcoming historically constituted disadvantage. As the essay argues, the society described by Rawls is likely to remain divided by inherited class structures, given the motivational requirements of markets and the psychological effects of the division of labor, so that inheritors of historical injustice would remain disadvantaged even if Rawlsian principles were put into practice. The essay considers some speculative methods for overcoming these inequalities, and argues that the most promising approach in circumstances as we know them will draw on already-existing programs of compensation for historical expropriation. The essay also argues that Rawlsians should take seriously the application of the difference principle to the distribution of political authority alongside material resources, suggesting that we should give careful thought to how political structures can protect the interests of the least advantaged. The paper argues that, once again, existing mechanisms for Aboriginal self-governance are more appropriate as a system of forward-looking justice than they may otherwise appear. The essay argues in closing that political philosophy should give increased attention to the ethics of political action and to conflict among the disadvantaged in imperfect circumstances.

Indigenous scholars and others have characterized Canadian discourses of reconciliation as supporting a top-down, government-defined and controlled agenda, which is at best ineffective and misleading and at worst fraudulent and recolonizing. Some have argued that reconciliation should only occur after the Indian Act has been abolished, reparations made, land and resources returned, and a political and economic nation-to-nation relationship restored. The author agrees that it is essential to look critically at state and nationalistic discourses of reconciliation and that neither the federal government, the churches, nor non-Indigenous peoples generally can or should control the agenda. However, while reconciliation is not a sufficient condition for decolonization in Canada, Indigenous resurgence on its own will not achieve full decolonization either. If the psychic structures of colonialism persist, various forms of neocolonialism will be prevalent even after a nominal “nation-to-nation” relationship has been established, given the demographic imbalance and geographical proximity between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. There will always be a need for relationship and negotiation.

In fact, decolonization and reconciliation may be understood as complementary and concurrent processes. The concept of reconciliation underlines the emotional, psychological and human changes that are as necessary as political and economic reformulations for decolonization and that are not easily addressed by other means. Rather than a top-down government-initiated campaign focused on assimilation into the status quo or a Eurocentric Christian doctrine focused on forgiveness, reconciliation can be a transformative process of building the relationships, alliances and social understandings necessary to support the systemic changes that true decolonization entails. Indigenous and other cultural paradigms for resolving conflicts, making restitution and healing relationships, such as the Sto:lo concept of lummi or “facing yourself,” can help restore interconnectedness and reciprocity at all levels, both within Indigenous communities and between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples and the land. We also should not overestimate the government’s power to control even those reconciliation processes it does initiate, let alone those that arise autonomously. Decolonization and reconciliation are processes underway on many fronts in Canada, and they can’t be controlled by anyone.

Indigenous peoples encounter restrictions on their modes of reasoning and account-giving within democratic sites of negotiation and deliberation. Political theorists understand these restrictions as forms of exclusion related to what theorist Iris Young has called the ‘internal exclusion’ of subordinated perspectives and theorist James Bohman has referred to as the ‘asymmetrical inclusion’ of such perspectives. ‘Internal exclusion’ refers to ways in which actors are formally accepted into decision-making processes, only to find their perspectives disqualified due to informal but no less pervasive criteria of exclusion. ‘Asymmetrical inclusion’ refers to the undue burdens placed on marginalized peoples to persuade dominant communities. It is argued in light of these problems that more inclusive institutions as well as the cultivation of an ethos of receptivity will be necessary for genuine inclusion. I argue that this focus on enriching dialogue can mischaracterize the nature of disagreement between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples.

Disagreement does not only arise between opinions or discourses that can be articulated and judged, but also at a deeper level, between the background assumptions against which practices of articulation and judgment are understood. Territorial state sovereignty, I argue, is a background understanding that can render sites of democratic negotiation inhospitable to Indigenous claims. I conclude that when thinking through Indigenous equality and autonomy, theorists should be attuned to the sites and conditions of dialogue that might serve to reinscribe relations of domination and exclusion.

New institutions of indigenous governance will be the product of negotiations, negotiations that will take place against a background of colonial structures and relationships. Having examined the challenges of structuring a negotiation process that takes due account of pre-existing cultural and power differences between the parties, the author analyzes the significance of their choice of negotiation strategy on the negotiation process and outcome. In particular, this paper reflects on the promise and limitations of the parties’ adopting interest-based, or “integrative”, negotiation strategies and the potential for fruitful entanglements between those strategies and indigenous diplomatic traditions.

Many contemporary Indigenous communities in Canada assert an ability to make fundamental authoritative decisions about what is acceptable use of their territories. I focus on the question of legal obligations that might befall the Crown in its relationships with these communities and their claims. I argue that any such obligations must be seen as culturally and contextually specific, not only in the sense that particular Crown obligations take on content and form within the context of the culture within which the Canadian legal system has emerged but also in the sense that this non-Indigenous culture and history generate the very meaning of the notion of ‘obligation’ here at play. This culturally determined meaning functions to make it extremely difficult to make sense of the notion the Crown actually has legal obligations in relation to Indigenous assertions of authority over territories. This suggests decolonization in this context should be focused on discursive colonization and its undoing. Along those lines I offer a sketch of what ‘legal obligation’ might mean in an Indigenous cultural-historical setting. Within this way of understanding the situation, addressing questions of Crown obligations would begin with consideration of Indigenous systems of meaning-generation. Analysis would focus on working out what it means within such normative worlds to determine a party has a legal obligation, and would then turn to what this has to say about legal obligations that might be understood to fall on the Crown.

I argue that while the Crown will almost certainly not respond to claims it has legal obligations within what it takes to be separate legal systems, describing the landscape this way paints a truer picture of the world as it presents itself. The landscape has been, and continues to be, one of distinct meaning-generating peoples, each determining what it understands such concepts as ‘legal obligations’ to mean and entail. The colonial agenda has been for many generations to deny the existence of Indigenous systems, to have Indigenous communities come to think of ‘legal obligations’ in ways colonial authorities determine. Decolonization – in this form – requires a backing out of these ways of thinking. This article clears away forms of thinking that obstruct our view, giving us all an opportunity to perceive the complex landscape we in fact inhabit.

I argue in this article for the use of a dialogical approach to cost-benefit analysis, which is identified here as a process that rationalizes cross-cultural judging. Weighing in on the Kahan-Sunstein debate about the effect of culture on risk perception, I use economic valuations of Indigenous sacred sites to demonstrate how cost-benefit analysis can misrepresent loss. I identify the way cost-benefit analysis operationalizes preferences that have little relevance for perceptions of substitutability, property, or harm related to sacred sites held by some Indigenous peoples. In doing so, I problematize the use of cost-benefit analysis as a method for ascertaining loss and contextualize risk in the social context in which it is perceived. In order to further procedural justice, I recommend valuation of loss that allows for epistemological disparities in determining rationality. This dialogical approach expects to maximize the accuracy of cost benefit analysis so as to create greater accountability for loss valuation and destabilize formulations of culturally determined preferences as bounded but corrected by expert knowledge.

This article highlights the trajectory of indigenous peoples’ territorial claims when they appear before certain international and regional authorities that protect human rights. It demonstrates that the right of indigenous peoples to have their ways of life respected is a misguided and hollow response to their claims, at best approximate and ambiguous. However, the right to communal property of ancestral lands and essential resources entrenched by international courts, even if it directly echoes back to indigenous claims, is formulated in a specific language and vocabulary and according to categories defined by the dominant society. As a consequence, rights derived from this process are confined to an intrastate pluralism, since they are shaped by sources of law defined by member states that have signed regional charters and conventions protecting human rights. In the absence of a reciprocal intercultural dialogue that would facilitate a mutual circulation of ideas in the language and based on the beliefs held by indigenous and non-indigenous peoples – the only real tool for effective decolonization – the initial hypothesis, that the communal right to ownership facilitates the decolonization process, is partially invalidated.

A critical knowledge of the evolution of the idea of property would embody, in some respects, the most remarkable portion of mental history of mankind.

– L.H. Morgan

Now you try and say what is involved in seeing something as something. It is not easy.

– Ludwig Wittgenstein

In this paper I argue that a comparison of English and Aboriginal conceptions of property yields insight into the ontologically specific grounds that inform institutionalized socio-cultural practices like property. Where the foundations of English conceptions of property are highly rationalistic, Aboriginal conceptions eschew categorization and are indicative of a highly nuanced and different way of understanding the worldliness of a human being. As such, a comparison of such conceptions becomes not simply a comparison of ways of owning and possessing, but a cross-cultural comparison of ways of relating to the world at large for what are ostensibly economic purposes.

To argue this is to assume that there is much more going on within culture that is determinative of ways of being than to simply assume that all cultures share universal cultural traits. In this paper I therefore discuss some of the philosophical foundations that underlie Western conceptions of the human’s relation to the world as embodied in principles of property law, as well as looking at the philosophical significance of that view. I also look at the way various Aboriginal peoples in Canada understand their own relationship to the world-at-large as it is expressed in what they understand as the property regimes of their society.