Multiple Truths in a Complicated Moment: DRIPA, Sen̓áḵw, and the Future of BC
I’ve been trying to understand what’s happening right now in British Columbia.
I live nearby, and I can see these changes happening in real time. The towers rising at Sen̓áḵw are impossible to ignore. They’re reshaping the skyline—and raising deeper questions.
A law that was once celebrated—Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act—is now at risk of being partially suspended by Premier David Eby.
At the same time, massive development projects like Sen̓áḵw development are moving forward quickly, changing the physical and social landscape of places like Kitsilano.
Somewhere in all of this are questions about land, rights, housing, labour, education, and truth.
I don’t think this is a simple story. I think it’s a story of multiple truths.
Truth #1: Indigenous rights are real, legal, and long overdue
Much of British Columbia is unceded land. That’s not an opinion—it’s a legal and historical reality.
Court decisions like Tsilhqot'in Nation v. British Columbia affirmed that Indigenous title has real legal weight.
DRIPA was meant to move BC toward aligning its laws with those rights—toward a future based on consent, not just consultation.
From this perspective, suspending parts of DRIPA feels like:
- breaking a promise
- stepping backward on reconciliation
- and raising the question: are rights only respected when they’re convenient?
Truth #2: Governments are under pressure to “keep things moving”
There’s also another reality.
British Columbia is facing:
- a housing crisis
- rising costs of living
- pressure to build quickly
- and concern about delays and uncertainty
From the government’s perspective, decisions around land and development are becoming more complex and legally risky.
That doesn’t automatically justify suspending rights—but it helps explain the pressure to act.
Truth #3: Sen̓áḵw shows both possibility and tension
The Sen̓áḵw development project is powerful.
It shows what First Nations can do on their own land:
- build quickly
- move outside some municipal restrictions
- create large-scale housing
But it also raises real questions people are quietly asking:
- What happens to neighbourhood character?
- What about environmental impact?
- Who benefits most from these developments?
And there’s another layer that’s harder to talk about honestly:
We don’t currently have enough local skilled tradespeople willing or able to do this scale of work.
I’ve seen something similar before. During COVID, in Bucerías, Mexico, large numbers of workers came from poorer regions like Chiapas and Oaxaca to build condo developments. That kind of migration builds real construction skill and capacity.
Here, our system has often pushed people toward college and university pathways, especially in tech and administrative fields, while skilled trades have been undervalued.
At the same time:
- many trades are facing shortages
- and the toxic drug crisis—especially fentanyl—has had a devastating impact on workers, including in construction
These are uncomfortable realities, but they’re part of the bigger picture.
Truth #4: The system itself has been inconsistent for a long time
There’s a deeper layer that doesn’t get talked about enough.
Our systems—education, housing, employment—have not been stable or balanced:
- from the legacy of residential schools to current policy gaps
- from training people for one kind of economy while needing another
- from unaffordable housing to widening inequality
So when tensions rise now, they’re not coming out of nowhere.
They’re the result of long-standing imbalance.
Truth #5: Fear and misinformation are making things worse
One of the most harmful narratives is the idea that Indigenous people want to take people’s homes.
That fear has been repeated for years—but it doesn’t reflect what Indigenous leaders consistently say.
The focus has been on:
- negotiation
- recognition of rights
- and shared decision-making
Fear spreads faster than nuance—and it creates division where there doesn’t need to be.
So where does that leave us?
Not with simple answers.
But maybe with better questions:
- What does reconciliation actually look like when it affects land, money, and power?
- Can governments respond to economic pressure without undermining rights?
- How do communities adapt to change without losing their sense of place?
- Why does it feel like ordinary people are often left out of these decisions?
- And who benefits when we are divided instead of informed?
Final thought
This moment isn’t just about one law or one development.
It’s about the kind of province British Columbia is becoming.
One where decisions are rushed and reactive?
Or one where difficult truths can exist side by side—and still lead to something better?
I don’t think most people want conflict here.
I think people want fairness, stability, and a future that makes sense.
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