Boundaries and Borders

Western ‘civilization’ has a certain fixation on private property. Property, to be identifiable, requires a definitive description, which requires identification of its boundaries, whether it is a building lot, a farm, a mine, or ‘development land’. This is essential if the property is regarded as a commodity: to be bought and sold it requires a legal definition.

    It also requires a form of alienation, a detachment from personal or social identity. We became quite attached to our farm in Nova Scotia, and in a sense we had to alienate ourselves from it when we left and sold it. It had been – of necessity in our capitalist society – our private property. But did we actually ever own it? Considering the profound effect it had on our whole family, it would be more accurate to say that we were in a relationship with the land as much or more than we were property owners. And just how well defined were its boundaries? It was never surveyed – nothing for 20 miles around had been surveyed. Apart from one road on one side, and another road on another short side, the boundaries were creeks and woods and old fencelines, which means that the first settlers had to agree on what the boundaries would be – particularly when the creek moved one way or the other with every spring ‘freshet’. In other words, the boundaries were approximations of territorial claims and responsibilities, responsibilities both for your own land and that of your neighbours, i.e., respect for their territory and activities.

Certainly there could be disputes, but there was little point in hiring a lawyer or calling the police, even if either might be located within a reasonable distance (by horse). Disputes had to be settled by negotiation, perhaps with the help of neighbours familiar with the situation. Such negotiations were part of community life and community building. Although there were also many instances of bitter inter-generational boundary feuds, I think it is safe to say that reliance on external legal ‘authority’ was more apt to be community destroying.

This thinking was sparked by an invitation to attend a meeting in Vancouver a few weeks ago, which was organized to talk about “a just and sustainable model of land distribution” and “the creation of Indigenous land and food reserves . . . setting aside land for hunting, fishing and gathering culturally important Indigenous plants and animals in the forests, fields and waterways of British Columbia.” The most lively and fruitful part of the discussion was about identifying territories with respect for the ecology of the area and the necessity of recognizing boundaries as fluid in accordance with the fluidity of water courses, plants, and creatures.