Humans are deeply responsible for the current climate crisis, and a significant root cause is the nationstate fiction that land and morethanhuman relations can be reduced to “property” to be owned, controlled, and exhausted for profit. This ownership paradigm is inseparable from the Doctrine of Discovery and Terra Nullius, by Church and Crown, which gave moral and legal cover to seize Indigenous lands and suppress Indigenous laws of responsibility and reciprocity with the web of life.
The modern idea that a Crown or state holds “underlying title” to Indigenous lands in Canada flows directly from these doctrines, which treated alreadyinhabited territories as “empty” and available to Christian European empires. In practice, this has allowed Canada to assert ultimate authority over unceded territories, reduce Indigenous Nations to “claimants” on their own lands, and legitimize largescale extraction and dispossession.
This way of thinking has fractured the integrity of land and the broader web of life. When land is seen as property rather than as a living relation, decisions are framed around shortterm economic gain instead of the continuity of waters, soils, plants, animals, and communities. From clearcut logging and fossil fuel expansion to exclusionary conservation, the same logic of unilateral control has fragmented habitats, undermined biodiversity, and disrupted longstanding Indigenous stewardship practices.
For Indigenous Nations, climate change intensifies these harms. Shifting seasons, altered animal migrations, and degraded waters are eroding the conditions for hunting, fishing, trapping, and gathering, and with them, language, ceremony, and landbased teachings. This is not just environmental damage; it is an attack on living Indigenous legal orders that were designed to keep human behaviour accountable to the land.
Politically, the ownership myth entrenches a hierarchy in which the state imagines itself as the final decisionmaker over territories it claims. Indigenous Nations are pushed into endless “consultation,” while absolute authority and benefitsharing rarely shift. Economically, this worldview feeds a growthdriven model in which “wealth” is measured by what can be extracted, privatized, and traded, rather than by the health of ecosystems and communities. Socially and spiritually, it normalizes disconnection from place, where many people experience land as a commodity rather than as a living network to which they belong and are accountable.
Human arrogance thrives in this disconnection. The belief that humans stand above other beings, entitled to engineer, commodify, or sacrifice them for convenience and profit, has opened a climate change Pandora’s box: land turned into property, relations turned into resources, and the garden of life left to rot around us while humanity chooses profits over peace. Our current geopolitical and geoeconomic crises are symptoms of the same disorder, power and control elevated above responsibility and reciprocity.
There is no doubt that human activities, shaped by colonialism, fossil capitalism, and the property mindset, are driving the climate crisis. Yet Indigenous knowledge holders and communities across Turtle Island insist that genuine solutions must be rooted in decolonization, land back, and the restoration of landbased responsibilities and Indigenous selfdetermination. Indigenousled renewable energy projects, landback agreements, and the revitalization of traditional land use practices show it is possible to align livelihoods with the wellbeing of ecosystems instead of their destruction.
This moment demands more than new policies; it calls for a profound shift in worldview. Humans are not owners, but relatives, not masters, but participants in a living treaty with the rest of creation. Moving from ownership to relationship feeling as well as thinking our way back into reciprocity offers one path out of the current crisis.
Householdlevel conversations are an essential place to begin reconciling with Mother Earth. These conversations can ask different questions: Who rather than What is this land to us? What are our responsibilities here? How do our everyday choices, food, energy, transport, investments, and political action support or undermine Indigenousled visions of climate justice? When families and communities begin to live as if land is a relative rather than a possession, the foundations of a different future begin to take root.
Blog by Rye Karonhiowanen Barberstock
Image Credit: Davey Gravy, Unsplash
