I. INTRODUCTION
An inevitable consequence of Western European imperialism was widespread dispossession of indigenous peoples—the acquisition of land and natural resources, after all, was the driving force behind overseas expansion. Physical displacement occurred gradually, sustained variously by the invaders’ denial of the legal capacity of native peoples, or of the latter's moral worth or, in some extreme instances, of their very existence. Once legitimated by law, the expropriation of lands flourished as morally and philosophically justified, until no continent had escaped European dominance. The enormity of this project is measurable not only by its epic geographic scale, but also in its enduring longevity. For despite the number of decades that have elapsed since many of colonialism's formal aspects have been dismantled, it is still not uncommon to find indigenous peoples on the fringes, refugees in their own lands.
From about the middle of the last century, however, indigenous peoples in disparate locations worldwide launched in earnest struggles for legal redress. Invigorated by a transformed international framework wherein the protection of human rights has become increasingly perceived as a supranational concern in spite of the Westphalian ideal, domestic litigation initiated by indigenous peoples began to challenge the hegemonic legacy of settler laws. In the countries making up the former British Empire this would become a recurring battle in which the theme was redress for historic dispossession and recognition of traditional or customary land rights. From Canada to New Zealand, Australia to Belize, one by one national courts have been confronted with current disputes around land ownership and land use, all originating in British imperial expansion and its disruptive, often cataclysmic consequences for the original occupants.
The geographic sprawl of the former British Empire combined with the effluxion of time have meant that despite its shared provenance, the common law developed in distinct and unique ways, and this is no less true for issues around indigenous land rights. Yet, despite these divergences, the commonality of the colonial experience has engendered an almost unprecedented degree of referencing by national courts of each other. Judicial expansiveness in this regard has in turn misled some commentators into assuming the existence of a ‘unified’ doctrine of aboriginal title. In a 2007 article Jérémie Gilbert writes that judicial innovation in Canada and Australia in particular has fostered the development of a ‘body of law which is referred to as aboriginal or/and native title doctrine’.Footnote 1 And after referring to national decisions from various parts of the Commonwealth, Gilbert posits that the common positions espoused therein on the subject of indigenous land rights ‘suggest the emergence of a unified jurisprudence on what could be labelled as a doctrine on “indigenous title”: a combination of aboriginal (the Canadian label) and native title (the Australian label).’Footnote 2
As tidy as this sounds—or perhaps because of its tidiness—Gilbert's analysis is problematic because it oversimplifies what is an intricate and complex area of law. This is unwelcome not merely because of its lack of rigour, but also because there are practical dangers to falsely analogizing. If the mythology of a unified jurisprudence on aboriginal title gains currency across jurisdictions, this risks a lack of fit. The objection here is not just to the possibility of a muddled jurisprudence, but it is also to the potentially adverse consequences for litigants where localized differences are ignored. Put another way, doctrinal clarity is essential in order to minimize the incorrect application of principles and discordant outcomes.
Bearing these considerations in mind, I invite closer scrutiny of the leading cases in this area against three principal claims made by Gilbert, commencing in the following section with the so-called emergence of a unified doctrine on indigenous title. In section III I examine common-law decisions on aboriginal title to illustrate how superficial comparisons among jurisdictions actually mask what are distinct sources of this title, revealing at the same time the detrimental consequences of indiscriminate borrowing. This sets up the framework for examining the last of Gilbert's claims, which is that the jurisprudence developed by the Canadian Supreme Court and the High Court of Australia can serve as a model for a general legal theory on indigenous land rights, in this way promoting reconciliation. Aside from the initial difficulty of identifying a unified common law doctrine of aboriginal or/and native title, the classic paradigm relating to the treatment of aboriginal rights in both of these jurisdictions is one wherein judicial enlightenment has invariably provoked a severe backlash. Whether precipitated or fuelled by popular sentiment, both the judiciary and the legislature have invariably ended up in steady retreat from initial gains. This does not mean that these jurisdictions have not made useful contributions to doctrines developing around indigenous rights, but any transplantation or borrowing should proceed cautiously, mindful of nuances and limitations. I then conclude in the final part with a tentative explanation of why litigation of indigenous rights’ issues has been so problematic, and offer some alternative options that possibly counter the limitations existing in the jurisprudence of common law courts.
II. COMMON LAW RECOGNITION OF ABORIGINAL LAND RIGHTS
As national courts around the Commonwealth have been increasingly confronted with disputes engaging what is undeniably a highly specialist and arcane area of law, the temptation to cut and paste from other jurisdictions within the same legal family has apparently been irresistible. Great prominence has been afforded to some of the seminal cases, notably the 1992 Mabo decision from AustraliaFootnote 3 and the equally historic Delgamuukw decision from Canada in 1997.Footnote 4 The principles there laid down have been extracted and liberally applied elsewhere, despite differences in context and circumstances. The frequency of this cross-fertilization strongly suggests that Australian and Canadian jurisprudence stand at the vanguard with regard to the recognition of indigenous rights to land. As Gilbert generously describes the process:
considerable developments have taken place under the jurisprudence of common law jurisdictions in the last decades … based on the emergence of a body of law which is referred to as aboriginal or/and native title doctrine … mainly developed through the jurisprudence of both the Supreme Court of Canada and the High Court of Australia in the 1990s.Footnote 5
Closely allied to this interpretation is another suggestion from the same source that modern developments in this area represent an epistemic recalibration of indigenous rights. According to Gilbert, historical dispossession of indigenous peoples ‘could be regarded as perfectly legal, as in most situations the reference to the rules of conquest, discovery or terra nullius were perfectly legal in this period of history.’Footnote 6 Thus, he argues, where the common law currently recognizes indigenous title this involves a rejection of old standards in favour of evolving legal principles.Footnote 7
This is an ahistorical analysis, with one of its shortcomings being the prominence it gives to the decisions of the Australian High Court and the Supreme Court of Canada. Undeniably, while there has been an increase in the litigation of aboriginal rights’ claims in recent decades, Australian and Canadian courts are recent converts in this regard. In the former, there was a consistent denial of the existence of native title for close to 200 years,Footnote 8 while in Canada although belated recognition came in the middle of the last century,Footnote 9 the Supreme Court has never ruled favourably on the substance of any aboriginal title claim, preferring instead to shut down litigation on various procedural grounds. By contrast, however, in other parts of the Commonwealth or of the former British Empire the articulation or recognition of aboriginal rights enjoys an ancient pedigree. However equivocal that older body of jurisprudence might have been it is no more discriminatory or unfair than the doctrines around aboriginal rights that have been applied recently. Given the evident lack of clarity regarding the historical roots of judicial recognition of aboriginal rights, two of the most established doctrines are discussed below: first, the doctrine of aboriginal title and second, the continuity doctrine.
A. The Doctrine of Aboriginal Title
One of oldest and most established theories of aboriginal title to land is as a substantive right recognized at common law, where the title exists as a result of the legal effect given to pre-sovereignty native occupation of lands. Several commentatorsFootnote 10 have identified the theoretical foundations of this doctrine in the trilogy of cases that came before the United States Supreme Court in the first half of the nineteenth century.Footnote 11 In all of them the leading judgments were given by Chief Justice John Marshall, and though at times his language was offensive and his philosophy objectionable, no one of these decisions can be examined in isolation. Instead, in the nine years that lay between them it is possible to trace an evolution in Marshall's approach, in which what emerged was a doctrine of Indian title that recognized the land rights of Native Americans.
In Johnson, the first of the trilogy, Marshall CJ acknowledged that Native Americans were ‘the rightful occupants of the soil, with a legal as well as just claim to retain possession of it, and to use it according to their own discretion.’Footnote 12 This remarkable concession (coming almost 170 years before Australia's epiphany in Mabo) has been generally overlooked because of a skewed focus on other parts of the judgment and a failure to consider the doctrine as it evolved. One of the weaker aspects of Marshall's reasoning in Johnson lay in his treatment of the juridical basis of European settlement. Marshall stated that ‘discovery’ was the basis of the Crown's title, which was legitimated by the Royal Commissions and Charters.Footnote 13 He reasoned expansively that the ‘very grant of a charter is an assertion of the title of the crown … and the charter contains an actual grant of the soil, as well as of the powers of government’.Footnote 14 However, leading thinkers at the time were divided on the juridical effect of discovery,Footnote 15 and given the fierce European maritime rivalry that existed there were predictably competing views, encompassing both discovery and possession, which were invoked to legitimate the acquisition of territory.Footnote 16
Aside from the legal consequences of discovery, a more troubling aspect of Marshall's ruling in Johnson is his explanation for the non-consensual appropriation of native lands. Marshall based his conclusions on the established practice of the English government in acquiring territory on the American continent, pointing to the various Charters as evidence of the Crown's assumption of an exclusive power to appropriate lands in spite of the presence of the Indians thereon. After surveying various Charters issued by the English Crown, some from as far back as 1496 regarding discovery and taking possession of unknown lands, as well as others issued in the early 1600s relating specifically to taking possession of territories on the American continent, Marshall CJ observed: ‘Thus has our whole country been granted by the Crown while in the occupation of the Indians. These grants purport to convey the soil as well as the right of dominion to the grantees.’Footnote 17
As justification for this exercise of undiluted dominance, Marshall adverted to the level of civilization attained by native societies, stating that ‘the character and religion of [the continent's] inhabitants afforded an apology for considering them as a people over whom the superior genius of Europe might claim an ascendancy.’Footnote 18 For good measure, he also reiterated that the charters and commissions to which England traced its title authorized the discovery and possession of ‘such remote, heathen, and barbarous lands, as were not actually possessed by any Christian prince or people’.Footnote 19
Predictably, these aspects of Marshall's judgment have been heavily criticized, not the least for their scandalous racist underpinnings.Footnote 20Johnson heralded a reduced status for native Americans in terms of their rights to land, both in the obvious sense that henceforth they could not freely alienate their land, as well as in the unacknowledged reality that the inexorable march of European settlement meant that they were often compelled to relinquish territory.Footnote 21
More damaging has been the legacy of this decision where viewed in isolation. The equivocation that permeates Marshall's reasoning—notably, for example, his acknowledgement of an ‘Indian right of occupancy’ simultaneously with a power in the discovering nation to ‘grant the soil, while yet in the possession of the natives’,Footnote 22 has spawned a conflicting jurisprudence. Like Biblical text this case has been invoked for entirely antagonistic purposes, both to reinforceFootnote 23 and to denyFootnote 24 the rights of Native Americans to land. Critics claim that it facilitated the judicial creation of rules regarding the extinguishment of aboriginal title, manifested most graphically in subsequent decisions that viewed extinguishment as raising political and not justiciable issues.Footnote 25 Less harshly, Kent McNeil posits that it is because later judges have been unable to understand the interest described in Johnson, that of a ‘right of occupancy’, that they have denied aboriginal title its constitutionally protected status as a property right.Footnote 26
These are not necessarily invalid critiques, particularly insofar as they acknowledge that the source of later judicial denials of aboriginal rights partly lay in a misunderstanding of the rationale in Johnson. Ultimately, an accurate understanding of the doctrine that emerged out of US Supreme Court in the early nineteenth century can only be had from a consideration of all three cases of the period on Indian title. Whatever equivocation exists in Johnson, one ineluctable fact is that consistently throughout these decisions the territorial rights of Native Americans were recognized. By the time Marshall delivered the judgment in Worcester, nine years after Johnson, this position was forcefully and unequivocally expressed:
It is difficult to comprehend the proposition that the inhabitants of either quarter of the globe could have rightful original claims of dominion over the inhabitants of the other, or over the lands they occupied; or that the discovery of either by the other should give the discoverer rights in the country discovered which annulled the pre-existing rights of its ancient possessors.Footnote 27
Crucially, the source of this entitlement was grounded not in narrow common law doctrines relating to land, but instead in wider principles which derived both from the law of nationsFootnote 28 and the practice and policy of the British crown towards its overseas possessions, dubbed an aspect of imperial constitutional law.Footnote 29 The latter was a body of law that grew out of Crown policies and practices to govern various issues relating to Britain's expanding empire, such as the constitutional status of colonies, the legal parameters of the relationship between the Crown and its overseas possessions and legal rights of aboriginal peoples.Footnote 30 Moreover, this embryonic Colonial law was not developed in isolation, but was shaped by the ‘inter-societal custom and law’ generated by the interaction of the native and settler societies.Footnote 31 According to Brian Slattery:
Although the doctrine [of aboriginal rights] was a species of unwritten British law, it was not part of English common law in the narrow sense, and its application to a colony did not depend on whether or not English common law was introduced there. Rather the doctrine was part of a body of fundamental constitutional law that was logically prior to the introduction of English common law and governed its application to the colony.Footnote 32
That this was indeed a ‘body of fundamental constitutional law’ is evident from its application outside the American context in other jurisdictions where settler populations came into contact with native societies. In New Zealand, for example, the rights of the indigenous population to their land obtained judicial recognition from as long ago as 1847, the court maintaining that such rights were ‘entitled to be respected’ and could not be extinguished without ‘the free consent of the Native occupiers’.Footnote 33 Like his American counterpart, Chapman J sourced these native rights in the law of nations as well as in fundamental principles of British colonial law.Footnote 34 In modern times, the Marshall decisions have been particularly influential in Canada, where they shaped a developing jurisprudence that recognized aboriginal rights to land at common law based on pre-sovereignty occupation.Footnote 35
B. The Continuity Doctrine
While under the preceding doctrine indigenous rights obtain legal recognition under British colonial law, there is an even older doctrine by virtue of which indigenous rights are sourced directly through indigenous laws and customs themselves that survive the change in sovereignty. This source is more of a procedural device, referred to as ‘continuity’ principles. Simply put, this doctrine distinguishes between public and private rights: on the acquisition of territory the former pass to the new sovereign, whereas the latter are retained by the conquered peoples in the absence of any specific act of expropriation at the time of conquest. The roots of the continuity doctrine are of great antiquity, and where modern courts in Canada, Australia, Malaysia, Kenya, Belize and BotswanaFootnote 36 have applied some version of it there was nothing novel or revolutionary involved. Instead, these courts were simply continuing a tradition that reaches all the way back to ancient conquests engaging Roman law.Footnote 37
In more recent times, from the immediate aftermath of Columbus’ journeys onwards when a frenzied period of European expansion was unleashed, continuity principles gained renewed currency. During this period there was an accompanying explosion of intellectual debate surrounding the legitimacy of the conquest of indigenous Americans, much of which was premised on racist and self-serving theories that denied indigenous peoples any rights to their own lands.Footnote 38 However, an influential body of opinion emerged at the same time challenging these views, most prominently in the work of the pioneering Dominican theologian Francisco de Vitoria who posited that natives were rational beings and that their lack of Christian faith was no justification for stripping them of their property. In a lecture entitled ‘On the Indians lately discovered’, Vitoria famously asserted that the Pope had no power over the Indians and could not grant away their lands; taking their possessions, he opined, ‘would be theft or robbery no less than if it were done to Christians’.Footnote 39 Vitoria's theories helped to revolutionize the epistemology of indigenous rights, and his influence can be discerned in the writings of his contemporaries such as Dominic Soto and the famous Spanish missionary Las Casas, as well as in that of other commentators in subsequent centuries.Footnote 40
Even more consistently than international law, the common law has long respected the continuity of private rightsFootnote 41 (as distinct from British colonial law that independently recognized the legality of indigenous occupancy). As far back as 1608 Coke CJ ruled that ‘if a King come to a Christian kingdom by conquest, seeing that he hath vitae et necis potestatem, he may at his pleasure alter and change the laws of that kingdom: but until he doth make an alteration of those laws the ancient laws of that kingdom remain.’Footnote 42
Calvin's Case was followed in a number of other casesFootnote 43 and by the mid-eighteenth century it had become well entrenched. In subsequent cases the principle was refined and expanded, generating an entire body of law concerning the consequences of sovereignty and the power of the Crown upon the acquisition of new territory. In summary, it was laid down that in settled colonies Englishmen ‘carried’ their laws with them, whereas in colonies acquired by conquest or cession local laws remained. These principles were eventually enshrined in Blackstone's highly influential Commentaries on the Laws of England.Footnote 44
Thus by the end of the 19th century both international law and the common law recognized aboriginal rights in parallel and distinct ways, each source containing principles which anchor modern jurisprudence on the subject. Given this history, it is almost fanciful to suggest that a body of law relating to indigenous rights is now ‘emerging’, and it is even less credible to assert that Australian and Canadian courts have been mainly responsible for these developments. Further, as will be argued in the following sections, increased litigation regarding aboriginal rights within recent decades has not always developed the law on aboriginal title; indeed, in many instances its effect has been the opposite.
III. THE FICTION OF A UNIFIED COMMON LAW JURISPRUDENCE
Reasoning by analogy is a common (and possibly the easiest) method of analysis. However, unless the process is conducted systematically, it could overlook inconsistencies and lead to discordant outcomes. To be sustainable, defensible even, there should be points of similarity that permit copying in the first place,Footnote 45 and the actual process of borrowing should involve engagement with reason or principle. The alternative of indiscriminate borrowing is to run the risk of engaging in what Ernest Young describes as merely ‘counting noses’.Footnote 46 An examination of modern jurisprudence on the subject of indigenous rights raises a strong suspicion that some amount of the latter practice exists, whereby precedent is applied with little regard for fit or outcome.
Gilbert boldly asserts that ‘national courts have applied a high level of comparative analysis referring to a similar common law approach’Footnote 47 which in turn ‘suggest[s] the emergence of a unified jurisprudence on what could be labeled as a doctrine on “indigenous title” ’.Footnote 48 National courts have indeed referenced each other liberally on the subject of indigenous rights, but mutual referencing alone cannot lead to a ‘unified’ jurisprudence. On the contrary, what indiscriminate borrowing has done is to muddle distinct doctrines, and because there has been little engagement with underlying principle, increasingly the result is a chaotic jurisprudence.
The most prominent area of confusion lies in judicial and academic discourses on the source of aboriginal or native title. Commenting on the source of aboriginal title in Canada, Lamer CJC said in Delgamuukw v British Columbia:
it is now clear that although aboriginal title was recognized by the Proclamation, it arises from the prior occupation of Canada by aboriginal peoples. That prior occupation, however, is relevant in two different ways, both of which illustrate the sui generis nature of aboriginal title. The first is the physical fact of occupation, which derives from the common law principle that occupation is proof of possession in law … What this suggests is a second source for aboriginal title – the relationship between common law and pre-existing systems of aboriginal law.Footnote 49
The most that can be gleaned from Lamer's impenetrable reasoning in this passage is that he identifies two sources of title: one being the ‘physical fact of occupation’ assessed in light of a common law presumption, and the other a ‘relationship’ between the common law and pre-existing systems of aboriginal law. The first of these is based squarely on the seminal work of Kent McNeil, who posits that factual occupation can give rise to title because under principles of real property law, occupation is proof of possession.Footnote 50 The second source, however, is impossible to decipher, for Lamer CJC does not elaborate on what aspect of the identified ‘relationship’ is instrumental or, indeed, how a relationship (as distinct from a system of law) can give rise to legal rights in the first place. Does ‘relationship’ refer to the inter-societal law generated by common law and aboriginal systems, or does it refer to aboriginal law which is saved by common law continuity principles? Both options constitute separate sources, each one conceptually distinct from McNeil's thesis, so by juxtaposing them in this way Lamer CJC has spawned considerable uncertainty.
Unfortunately, the inattentiveness displayed by Lamer CJC has been echoed and even extended by academic commentary. According to Gilbert, the ‘roots of indigenous title are to be found in indigenous customs and laws that preceded the acquisition of sovereignty by colonizers. Thus, these titles are based on the recognition of pre-existing indigenous laws, and on the common law principle that occupation is proof of possession’.Footnote 51 With this statement, what Gilbert does is to conflate two separate sources of aboriginal title, for ‘the recognition of pre-existing indigenous laws’ refers to the continuity doctrine, while ‘occupation [as] proof of possession’, is a reference to McNeil's theory that sources title in the municipal law of real property. What Lamer and now Gilbert have done is to lump distinct theories together, treating them as interchangeable. However, cases from a variety of common law jurisdictions have relied on differing (and distinct) sources of aboriginal title, and to treat these as a single interchangeable source is a mistake. In the preceding section two sources of aboriginal rights to land were identified: the doctrine of continuity, by which rights to land are sourced in pre-existing indigenous laws that continue after a change in sovereignty, and the doctrine of aboriginal title, derived from British colonial law, through which pre-existing occupation of land by indigenous peoples obtained legal recognition. While these are among the oldest doctrines by which indigenous rights have been recognized, they do not exhaust the means that ground modern aboriginal title. Two principal remaining theories are the recognition doctrine and very recently a doctrine of ‘common law aboriginal title’, which is sourced in the (private) law of property.
A. The Recognition Doctrine
Under the recognition doctrine a change in sovereignty is said to abrogate all existing rights, whether private or public, so the only interests in land retained by the existing population are those expressly recognized by the incoming sovereign. It purports a ‘radical discontinuity’ as a result of the change in sovereignty.Footnote 52 It is most closely associated with a narrow line of Indian cases,Footnote 53 though it was recently applied in the first indigenous land rights case heard in the High Court of Guyana.Footnote 54 However, given the drastic consequences of its application, the doctrine has long been regarded as legally and morally indefensible, out of step with logic as well as with prevailing authorities.Footnote 55
B. Common Law Aboriginal Title
The doctrine of common law aboriginal title is of relatively recent origin. It owes its existence to Professor Kent McNeil, who theorized in his pioneering study that factual occupation of land by indigenous peoples is sufficient proof of legal possession which, in the absence of any other claim to or interest in the said land, entitles them to a proprietary title under basic tenets of English property law.Footnote 56 A title through this method is anchored firmly in municipal law, for it relies on a presumption of English property law that factual occupation is proof of legal possession or ownership. This theory is therefore distinct from the doctrine associated with the Marshall Supreme Court under which pre-sovereignty occupation was accorded legal status by a combination of the law of Nations and Imperial constitutional law, which applied to a territorial acquisition irrespective of the introduction of the common law in its narrower sense.Footnote 57 Thus an important difference between the two doctrines is that McNeil's thesis is grounded in domestic law, whereas Marshall's doctrine is an application of British colonial law.Footnote 58
Another difference between the two theories is that while McNeil's is concerned with the present, the other looks to the past. Since the whole thrust of McNeil's approach is to place indigenous occupants of land in the same position as other (non-aboriginal) occupants, its principled application dispenses with the need to prove pre-sovereignty occupation. Indeed, McNeil himself makes this clear by stating: ‘Some of these problems [of proving continuous occupation since the acquisition of Crown sovereignty] can be avoided if the aboriginals who claim title are presently in occupation of the lands claimed by them. In that situation, they can rely on their own occupation and the common law presumption that occupiers of land have title to fee simple estates.’Footnote 59 This is a crucial aspect of McNeil's theory apparently overlooked by Lamer CJC, who, by finding pre-sovereignty occupation to be relevant in light of a common law principle, has made its application more difficult.
C. The Detrimental Consequences of Indiscriminate Borrowing
How, then, did these distinct sources come to be lumped together in Lamer's judgment in Delgamuukw? If one were to search for the origins of this confusion, one would probably find an answer in the series of steps marking the transplantation of doctrines across divergent jurisdictions, thereafter cemented in the accompanying commentary. Prior to Delgamuukw, Canadian law recognized two sources of aboriginal title: the application of continuity principles,Footnote 60 and the alternative of constitutional recognition as granted by the common law.Footnote 61 But by 1997, when the Canadian Supreme Court was faced with the appeal in Delgamuukw, McNeil's novel theory had just been applied by the Australian High Court in Mabo. The trouble was, however, that four separate concurring judgments were delivered in Mabo, so discerning a common position is not straightforward. In the judgment delivered by Toohey J, McNeil's theory was discussed closely, though as an alternative source of native title.Footnote 62 When the Canadian Supreme Court came to deal with this issue in Delgamuukw, it apparently overlooked the important fact that McNeil's theory had been developed as an alternative to the traditional doctrines which focused on historical occupation. This slippage was compounded when Lamer CJC juxtaposed two distinct sources in an obscure passage that did not explain their connection, if any.Footnote 63 All this confusion was reinforced in Gilbert's analysis, which presented what had hitherto been distinct sources of aboriginal title as joint or interchangeable.
Laxity in the application of indigenous rights theories is undesirable for reasons beyond nostalgia for doctrinal purity. The source of entitlement directly influences the means of proof and determines the nature and scope of any resulting title. The choice of which doctrine to invoke is therefore one that must be made mindful of history and context. The alternative of taking a generic approach is to ignore limitations unique to each doctrine, which could then operate to defeat a land claim where circumstances differ in material respects.
The recognition doctrine, for example, which states that no pre-existing rights survived a transition of sovereignty except insofar as they were explicitly recognized and affirmed by the incoming Sovereign, would non-suit claimants if invoked in places where no land rights legislation exist. While this doctrine has obvious limitations, which renders it less likely to be relied on by indigenous peoples, other more popular sources as identified above are no less fraught.
A prime example is the continuity doctrine, which has tremendous evidential and conceptual difficulties, belying its current popularity. Applicants must establish a connection to the land claimed which existed at the time of sovereignty and continued thereafter up to the present.Footnote 64 Given the early roots of colonization, this necessitates evidence of events and laws dating back hundreds of years, an enormously difficult burden for most aboriginal societies which lack written records. Any change in the colonial power—not an infrequent occurrence as territorial possessions changed hands routinely—amounted to discontinuity and could signal the loss of pre-existing rights. Indeed, early cases from around the Commonwealth floundered on this ground alone.Footnote 65 Another difficulty posed by the continuity doctrine, as will be demonstrated below, relates to the identification of pre-existing laws.Footnote 66
McNeil's doctrine, for all of its contemporariness, poses its own challenges. Because it involves the application of real property principles, it requires skilful navigation between the highly artificial English law and indigenous patterns of land use.Footnote 67 English property law consists of intricate and arcane rules, starting with the fiction of original crown ownership of all lands. It has no experience of dealing with features of land use that are unique to aboriginal societies, such as their sacred, spiritual relationship with land, their concept of stewardship rather than ownership, their seasonal patterns of use and so on.Footnote 68 In the past, many of these unique aspects of aboriginal land use confounded Western jurists and theorists, as embodied in the writings of Vattel whose utilitarian philosophy was invoked on occasion to justify the dispossession of migratory societies.Footnote 69 These dangers are no less in the present, as evidenced by the convoluted application of this doctrine in Delgamuukw and the damaging influence that decision has in turn exerted.
In R v Marshall; R v Bernard, at issue were the rights of the Mi'kmaq to cut logs on what were described as Crown lands in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. The current Chief Justice, McLachlin CJC, held that aboriginal title ‘is established by practices that indicate possession similar to that associated with title at common law’, which necessitated a process of ‘matching common law property rules to aboriginal practice’.Footnote 70 In her exposition of common law property rules regarding legal possession, McLachlin CJC identified the requirements laid down in Delgamuukw for title as exclusive physical occupation of land.Footnote 71 Despite repeated lip-service to the need for sensitivity to aboriginal perspectives, McLachlin CJC appeared not to follow her own advice, for she held that ‘occasional entry and use [of land] is inconsistent with … the approach to aboriginal title which this court has consistently maintained’.Footnote 72 Applied to the facts of that case, it meant that the seasonal use made by the Mi'kmaq of the territory in question could not found aboriginal title, and their convictions were restored.
Since aboriginal peoples are known to pursue migratory lifestyles, and often use the resources on the land occasionally as opposed to cultivating it, McLachlin's test of occupation maximizes the difficulties of aboriginal societies in claiming title to territory historically used by them. Her approach which requires ‘matching’ common law rules to aboriginal practices is not an entirely unforeseeable development of Lamer's test in Delgamuukw, which attributed relevance of pre-sovereignty occupation to a rule of English property law. In the matching process later conducted by McLachlin CJC, aboriginal practices alien to Western values were marginalized, highlighting the pitfalls of thoughtless borrowing.Footnote 73
These differences among various jurisdictions, particularly in the type (and consequences) of doctrines applied, make claims of a ‘unified’ doctrine of indigenous title unsustainable. To recap, in the course of the last 300 years colonial courts and their successors have recognized a variety of sources of aboriginal title. There is the doctrine of aboriginal title, which is a species of British colonial law and practice and which applied to a territory as a necessary incident of British sovereignty. This body of law recognized aboriginal rights, including pre-sovereignty native occupation of lands. There is the doctrine of continuity, by which indigenous rights to land are rooted in indigenous laws themselves, which are held to continue in a territory even after a change in political sovereignty. This doctrine is well established both at international law and under the common law. More recently, there is the doctrine of common law aboriginal title, which sources aboriginal rights to land in the domestic real property law, simply by applying the legal presumption that factual occupation of land gives rise to possession and ownership. Finally, there is the recognition doctrine, by which the only aboriginal rights recognized are those which have been explicitly granted by statute. However, as discussed above, each of these sources has limitations unique to its application, and an uninformed choice of one or the other could result in the denial of a land claim. It is for this reason more than any other that interpretations of a unified jurisprudence must be resisted.
IV. THE COMMON LAW AS A MODEL
Gilbert's biggest claim, and the one requiring the most careful scrutiny, is that the jurisprudence developed by the Canadian Supreme Court and the High Court of Australia can serve as a model for a general legal theory on indigenous land rights. This he develops in several ways. One plank of his argument is that this emerging common law doctrine on indigenous title treats historic dispossession in light of evolving legal principles, the latter being, apparently, superior to past standards.Footnote 74 As an example of this favourable evolution Gilbert cites R v Van der Peet,Footnote 75 where Lamer CJC held that reconciliation of indigenous peoples’ prior occupation with Crown sovereignty requires that the perspectives of both systems be taken into account and weighted equally.
The trouble with this analysis is that it plucks out and extrapolates from an isolated portion of one case. Van der Peet is only one in a trilogy of cases handed down by the Canadian Supreme Court in 1996 dealing with aboriginal rights, so basing a conclusion on one statement from this case is patently misleading. A balanced assessment of Canadian jurisprudence on the subject of aboriginal rights requires an examination of Van der Peet in its entirety, as well as its companions, which, if conducted, would reveal that predictions of reconciliation are overly sanguine. As discussed above, the most recent Supreme Court ruling on the subject of aboriginal title completely marginalizes the aboriginal perspective in its treatment of seasonal use and occupation of land, but even before Marshall and Bernard the bias of Canadian jurisprudence was unmistakable. Australian jurisprudence is no less compromised, so it would be a mistake to blindly follow the common law as it has evolved in these jurisdictions. Undeniably, while there have been positive developments, many deficiencies linger and the overall treatment of aboriginal rights has been quite uneven. A closer focus on the key elements of aboriginal rights jurisprudence, namely its source, manner of proof, content and durability, will illustrate these concerns.
A. Sources of Indigenous Rights
According to Gilbert, for the first time in legal history, under the doctrine of indigenous title courts have recognized the legal value of indigenous customary systems of land tenure. In support, he cites a succession of decisions from courts in Canada, South Africa, Malaysia, Kenya, Botswana, Belize and Australia.Footnote 76 However, a closer look at the jurisprudence of some of these jurisdictions reveals considerable ambivalence on the subject of indigenous rights. One example is provided by the application of continuity principles as a source of native title in Australian jurisprudence since Mabo.
Since the doctrine of continuity operates to preserve pre-existing private rights (including rights of property) on a change of sovereignty, it necessarily follows that the ‘public lands’ which pass to an incoming sovereign during this process cannot include lands subject to pre-existing customary interests, as the latter are private in nature. However, the logic (and justice) of this conclusion has been denied in Australia, where legislation making provision for ‘waste land’ was interpreted as including lands subject to pre-existing customary interests. In Fejo v Northern Territory,Footnote 77 the High Court held unanimously that a fee simple grant in 1882 had extinguished any native title interest in the land, as an estate in fee simple is equivalent to full ownership and is therefore incompatible with any other right or interest (unless the subsequent right or interest was granted by statute, the owner in fee simple or by a predecessor in title). Once extinguished, native title could not be revived when the land was resumed by the Crown.
The problem with this reasoning is that the grant in question had been made pursuant to section 8 of the Northern Territory Land Act 1872, which only empowered the Governor to make freehold and leasehold grants of ‘waste lands’. In construing this provision, the Chief Justice and five other Judges held in a single joint judgment that ‘The power to deal with waste lands in the Northern Territory (including the subject lands of the case) was to be found wholly within the 1872 Act. … That Act permitted the making of an unqualified grant of an estate in fee simple.’Footnote 78 But this did not address the issue, for it failed to explain how the statutory provision could include lands subject to pre-existing aboriginal interests.
Rejecting an alternative submission of the appellants that the fee simple grant should be read as having been made subject to native title rights, the majority held that even though at common law a fee simple estate could be subject to other interests (easements and profits à prendre being obvious examples), this could not include native title rights as the latter owed their existence to a different body of law and traditions.Footnote 79 In a separate concurring judgment, Kirby J echoed this point, adding that native title rights are ‘inherently fragile’ since they are dependent on a different legal system for protection.Footnote 80 Arguably, this was a fine and ultimately irrelevant distinction, since native title rights had earlier been acknowledged by this very Court to be of a proprietary nature. Moreover, the common law has never made distinctions based on the source of property rights,Footnote 81 so there was no reason in principle why native title rights should be treated differently from an easement or other common law interest. In any case, the recognition of native title rights deemed necessary by the High Court had already been accorded,Footnote 82 so the Justices’ explanation was indefensible even upon its own terms.
In addition to its unpersuasive rationale, this ruling contravened Australian precedent of very recent origin. In Mabo, Justices Deane and Gaudron clearly held that in the absence of clear and unambiguous words, waste lands legislation could not be construed as extinguishing or denying native title.Footnote 83 Justice Toohey was equally direct, saying: ‘traditional title may not be extinguished by legislation that does no more than provide in general terms for the alienation of the waste lands of the colony or Crown land.’Footnote 84 These are unequivocal statements, but they were ignored in Fejo.
What seems to have happened here was that after Mabo, presumably when the implications of the continuity doctrine began to register, the High Court sought to contain its initial exuberance by limiting the doctrine's scope. To do so, the judgment in Fejo distorted established common law principles relating to the continuity of private proprietary interests. This reversal mirrors precisely what occurred in Canada from the time of Delgamuukw in 1997 to Marshall and Bernard in 2005, creating the impression that in these countries enlightenment is closely followed by second thoughts, hence the subsequent judicial and legislative restrictions. Because of this ambivalence, characterizing the common law in either of these countries as a model is an assessment which cannot withstand rigorous scrutiny. This conclusion is reinforced when other aspects of aboriginal title jurisprudence are examined.
B. Proof of Indigenous Rights
Proving the existence of rights has always been a gruelling undertaking for indigenous peoples. Nowhere are these realities more graphically highlighted than in Australia and Canada. In Canada, as pointed out above, the test for proving aboriginal title has been rendered much more difficult, for the latest Supreme Court decision in Marshall and Bernard requires the assessment of indigenous use of the land from a Eurocentric standpoint. Since aboriginals never enclosed their territories or remained sedentary, establishing ‘exclusive use and occupation’ will make claimants less likely to succeed in proving aboriginal title.
The difficulties increase where aboriginal peoples claim free-standing rights in the land, as distinct from actual title. In Sparrow, an early case which examined the legality of a net length restriction contained in the appellant's Band food fishing licence, the Supreme Court held that aboriginal rights receiving constitutional protection were those that were already in existence at the time the Constitution came into effect (which was 1982). Moreover, the court held that the phrase ‘existing aboriginal rights’ had to be interpreted flexibly to take into account the evolution of aboriginal rights, so that rights could be ‘affirmed in a contemporary form rather than in their primeval simplicity and vigour’.Footnote 85 By the following decade, however, this humane and culturally sensitive approach was all but abandoned when a series of cases arose in which aboriginal peoples asserted rights of a commercial nature. In the very Van der Peet decision cited above, the issue was whether the Sto:lo people had an aboriginal right to fish commercially, and the Supreme Court decided that in order to qualify as an aboriginal right the activity in question must be ‘an element of a practice, custom or tradition integral to the distinctive culture of the aboriginal group claiming the right.’Footnote 86 As if this were not onerous enough, to qualify as a right the practice, custom or tradition must have existed at the time of contact with Europeans—long before either the British or the French asserted (much less acquired) sovereignty.
The genesis of this test is entirely unclear, violating as it does not only logic and humanity but precedent of very recent origin. Obvious problems are proving a practice existed so long ago and that it was ‘integral’ to the group's culture. What is highly doubtful is that anyone (and far less a judge, most likely of European descent) has the capacity to determine what was integral to an aboriginal society's culture some three or four hundred years ago; what is undeniably offensive is that the descendants of settlers have arrogated to themselves the power to do so. The Van der Peet test has been excoriated by commentators, with one of the most incisive critiques coming from scholars Russell Barsh and Youngblood Henderson who describe it as ‘philosophically hopeless and morally unjust’.Footnote 87 The two make several insightful observations, pointing out first that centrality cannot be objectified, or reliably measured by outsiders; second, that centrality presumes the independence of cultural elements, whereas in reality cultural characteristics are often interdependent; and third, that centrality—assuming it exists—would not be static.
Thus in Canada, while Sparrow formulated a conciliatory standard with its frame of reference of 1982, this has been undone by Van der Peet. The latter not only makes it harder for any right to be established, it also renders it highly unlikely that the modern expression of past practices could ever qualify as an aboriginal right—as illustrated by a series of cases where aboriginal groups have claimed rights of a commercial nature.Footnote 88
Similar travails have faced native title claimants in Australia in the post-Mabo era. In Mabo, it was the continuity doctrine which prevailed with a majority of the judges, the rationale for that decision being that the pre-existing rights of the indigenous inhabitants to the territory had survived the acquisition of sovereignty by the British crown.Footnote 89 Replicating Mabo's success, however, has since proved to be an elusive undertaking.
Under the continuity doctrine what must be proven is occupation of the land claimed at the time the British crown asserted sovereignty.Footnote 90 In most instances, this requires digging deep into the past, which modern aboriginal societies are often ill-equipped to do. The difficulty of this requirement is exacerbated by the fact that British assertions of sovereignty did not result in the crystallization of boundaries and the cementing of areas of aboriginal occupation. Quite the contrary, European invasion heralded tremendous upheavals in aboriginal societies, disrupting both their sites and manner of living. Thereafter, the perennial conflict for land and resources led to continuous fluidity in both European and aboriginal occupation. Thus, to require any modern aboriginal society to trace its present occupation of land to pre-sovereignty areas or patterns presents a task of Herculean proportions.
These concerns figure prominently in a decision of the Australian High Court in a claim brought by the Yorta Yorta Peoples for recognition of their native title to land and waters in northern Victoria and southern New South Wales. The applicants lost at every level of the Australian judiciary, their ultimate failure resulting from what the High Court viewed as the absence of proof of the continuity of their traditional laws and customs. The High Court held that the applicants had to show that pre-existing native laws and customs had actually survived to the present, for if the ‘normative system has not existed throughout that period, the rights and interests which owe their existence to that system will have ceased to exist’.Footnote 91
As if that were not by itself a sufficiently onerous burden, the Court further stipulated that the pre-existing normative system could not give rise to rights and interests after the assertion of British sovereignty, for there could be no parallel law-making system after that event.Footnote 92 Thus the applicants were placed in the impossible situation of having to prove continued adherence to traditional laws and customs and the existence of the system which gave rise to them, though that system was expected to flourish in the intervening centuries without functioning. This was necessary since every other normative system in Australia became excluded by the monopolistic nature of British sovereignty. According to Sky Mykyta, commenting on this requirement, ‘the Court requires Indigenous peoples to acknowledge what it denies and to keep alive what it says cannot exist’.Footnote 93
Another difficulty posed by the application of the continuity doctrine relates to the proof of pre-existing native laws and customs, in which native title is sourced.Footnote 94 While the Mabo test has been dutifully echoed in a number of cases, most recently by the Belizean High Court,Footnote 95 what it does not reveal is the difficulty of actually identifying those customary indigenous laws. Indeed, patently absent from the majority of cases that purport to give effect to pre-existing indigenous laws through the recognition of a customary land title is any informed discussion as to the existence and nature of those laws. Where courts make an attempt to articulate controlling principles, invariably this involves considerable guesswork, with detrimental results for indigenous applicants. Once again, the approach of the Australian High Court graphically illustrates these difficulties.
In Yorta Yorta, the High Court held that the forbears of the applicants had ceased to occupy their lands in accordance with traditional laws and customs. In so finding, the High Court relied on the determination of the trial judge, which was in turn based on historical accounts of aboriginal culture written by a White pastoralist. However, it has been widely acknowledged that those accounts were of doubtful credibility and reliability.Footnote 96 This resulted in a rejection of the applicants’ claim that their observance of traditional laws and customs met the test of a present connection as required by the legislation. In this way, both historical and modern aboriginal perspectives were completely ignored. As Kirsten Anker has insightfully pointed out, the Court's interpretation of tradition and culture wholly misunderstood the nature of traditional laws and customs, and by substituting its own understanding and expectations of what these laws and customs constituted, it completely ignored the fact that the customs described by the applicants were simply the contemporary expression of pre-existing practices.Footnote 97
Anker's view is reinforced by indigenous scholar and tribal Judge Zuni Cruz, who argues that historically, ‘external recognition’ of indigenous knowledge has not been ‘accurate, complete, fair or unbiased.’ Cruz further charges that the misrepresentation of indigenous laws has often been deliberate in the quest for assimilation of Indigenous peoples by states.Footnote 98 At the most charitable, the evident inability of the Australian High Court to navigate certain procedural matters underlines how ill-equipped common law courts are in general to assess unconventional forms of evidence such as oral testimoniesFootnote 99 and historical materials.Footnote 100 Altogether, the Yorta Yorta proceedings reveal the dangers inherent in requiring a modern court to estimate pre-sovereignty laws and customs and then expecting its conceptions to be reflected in current practices among indigenous applicants through an unbroken chain of continuity. It often involves much speculation, where the perspectives of indigenous applicants are invariably marginalized in the interpretations placed either upon the past or the present. Allied to these concerns are the fundamental difficulties with any approach that places an inordinate emphasis on strict continuity, given the very nature of colonization that resulted in sometimes minor, but often significant, disruptions to indigenous modes and patterns of living.Footnote 101 As it has evolved in these jurisdictions, therefore, common law doctrines impose evidentially onerous and culturally insensitive requirements for proving the existence of rights. As long as these conditions remain, they should be unhesitatingly rejected by other courts as a model for a general legal theory on indigenous land rights.
C. Extinguishment of Indigenous Rights
Claims that a common law doctrine on indigenous title can be seen as a bridge between indigenous and non-indigenous cultures since the same weight is given to both systems of lawFootnote 102 are definitively exploded the moment one makes a connection between the strength of a title and its source. Notions of equality become impossible to maintain since pre-existing indigenous rights can be extinguished under rules of the common law system, which has always been unequivocal about its dominance.Footnote 103 Naturally, the reverse does not hold true, so it is thus not credible to speak of the common law achieving (or even aiming for) reconciliation.
In the first place, if these systems were really weighted equally then pre-existing rights would not be subject to extinguishment by grants made under the common law. However, from the earliest times common law courts have insisted that sovereignty carried certain powers to extinguish pre-existing rights in the land. In Johnson v M'Intosh, Marshall CJ cautioned that ‘all our institutions recognize the absolute title of the crown, subject only to the Indian right of occupancy, and recognize the absolute title of the crown to extinguish that right. This is incompatible with an absolute and complete title in the Indians.’Footnote 104 Elsewhere, other common law courts have followed suit, so that, whatever the source by which indigenous rights are recognized, always present is an accompanying assertion of the Crown's overriding power to extinguish.Footnote 105
Reinforcing the subordinate status of indigenous title is the manner in which the power to extinguish is exercised. Here again, the common law operates discriminatorily, treating rights sourced in indigenous laws differently (and less favourably) than those sourced in its own system. At common law property rights cannot be extinguished other than with appropriate legislative authority, and then only if the required standard is met.Footnote 106 Since aboriginal title is a proprietary right, it ought to benefit from this protection. However, in Canada this principle has been desultorily applied,Footnote 107 while in Australia it seems to have been completely rejected.
In Mabo, having found that native title survived the acquisition of sovereignty by the British crown, the Australian High Court next had to consider the effect of both legislation and executive acts in the years intervening since annexation of the territory. While it was held, incontestably, that ‘clear and plain’ legislation could suffice to extinguish native title, all the Judges were united in finding that this result could also be achieved by executive act under the crown's prerogative powers. Brennan J, who delivered the leading judgment, based this conclusion on the source of native title. He pointed out that the Crown cannot extinguish an interest validly granted by it without statutory authority, and that a statute will be construed, if possible, as not authorizing any impairment of an interest in land granted by the Crown. However, Brennan continued, since native title is not granted by the Crown no similar constraint exists preventing the Crown from extinguishing it without express statutory authority.Footnote 108
Brennan J acted on this conclusion by finding that aboriginal rights had been denuded not by operation of law, but ‘by the exercise of sovereign authority over land exercised recurrently by governments’ over the course of the preceding 200 years of settlement.Footnote 109 Executive acts in the early years of settlement in Australia occurred long before statutory authorization,Footnote 110 so such subjugation to executive pleasure confirms the inferior status of aboriginal interests in land in spite of their proprietary nature.
This approach is legally indefensible. Once it is accepted that native rights in land are of a proprietary nature recognized by the common law,Footnote 111 it ought to follow naturally that such rights become clothed with all of the protections accorded to property by the said common law. Included among such protections is the hallowed constitutional principle that private property is not subject to arbitrary executive action. A corollary to this principle is that the Crown cannot commit acts of state against its own subjects, a protection that exists even in times of war.Footnote 112 Thus, while the Sovereign can extinguish private rights, this power is exercisable only under the law, which requires valid, enabling legislative authorization.Footnote 113
Compounding the vulnerability of native title is the legal standard to be met for extinguishment to validly occur. The prevailing test is taken from the judgment of Douglas J in U.S. v Santa Fe Pacific Railroad, where the strength of ‘Indian’ rights was reaffirmed as a matter of political expediency. Douglas J pointed to the historic need for peaceable relations with Indians, which necessitated a policy of respect for the Indian right of occupancy.Footnote 114 He continued that it would take ‘plain and unambiguous language’ to deprive the Walapais of the benefits of that policy,Footnote 115 affirming robustly that ‘extinguishment of Indian title cannot be lightly implied, but doubtful expressions in acts relating to Indians, instead of being resolved in favour of the United States, are to be resolved in favour of the Indians.’Footnote 116 Despite some equivocation in the way this ruling was actually applied, Douglas J left an enduring legacy in this test that ‘plain and unambiguous language’ is required to effect the extinguishment of indigenous rights. It has since been followed widely among common law courts, styled ‘clear and plain language’ in its most common incarnation.Footnote 117
While this test should protect indigenous peoples from arbitrarily losing their rights to the land, since it articulates a standard that must be met by legislation, courts have projected ambiguity onto the test in order to validate confiscatory acts by the state. Thus in Canada there is a lack of consensus as to what actually constitutes ‘clear and plain’. At one extreme, liberal judges like L'Heureux-Dube interpret the expression strictly, requiring an explicit statement in the law to effect the extinguishment of an aboriginal right.Footnote 118 However, L'Heureux-Dube is in the minority, with the weight of opinion leaning towards a less protective standard. Typical is that espoused by the British Columbia courts, which interpret the test as sanctioning extinguishment by ‘unavoidable implication’.Footnote 119 The Supreme Court has not provided any clarification,Footnote 120 so the effect of this uncertainty is to reinforce the fragility of aboriginal rights in Canada as recognition is simultaneously devalued by the ease with which extinguishment could possibly occur.
In Australia, while judges have paid lip-service to the same ‘clear and plain’ requirement,Footnote 121 the subsequent elaboration of what this entails strips it of any real efficacy. Brennan J accepted that a clear and plain intention was required in order to extinguish native title given the ‘seriousness of the consequences’ of such actions.Footnote 122 But having espoused this laudable position, he proceeded to rule that native title is extinguished by grants of inconsistent interests, such as fee simple estates and even leases.Footnote 123 This could happen unintentionally, as it was the effect of a grant that was operative. Only what he termed ‘lesser interests’, such as authorities to prospect for minerals, would not have this effect.Footnote 124 But it is simply a violation of the English language to state a ‘clear and plain’ intention is evinced by legislation whose unintentional effect is to extinguish native title. Moreover, fundamental common law principles which protect private property against arbitrary executive action have also been applied to native title rights. In Oyekan v Adele Lord Denning had this to say in relation to the right of a native ruler to remain in occupation of the official palace in Lagos, which had been ceded to the British crown:
The courts will assume that the British crown intends that the rights of property of the inhabitants are to be fully respected. Whilst, therefore, the British Crown, as Sovereign, can make laws enabling it compulsorily to acquire land for public purposes, it will see that proper compensation is awarded to every one of the inhabitants who has by native law an interest in it; and the courts will declare the inhabitants entitled to compensation according to their interests, even though those interests are of a kind unknown to English law… .Footnote 125
Thus the approach espoused by Brennan J constituted a significant derailment of legal principle, which the remaining judgments in Mabo did little to deflect. Deane and Gaudron JJ in a joint judgment posited that native title is ‘merely a personal right unsupported by any prior actual or presumed Crown grant of any estate or interest in the land’, so that an inconsistent Crown grant would naturally take precedence.Footnote 126 However, it is generally understood that the characterization of ‘personal’ in the context of native title simply refers to its inalienability, and does not imply that it is a non-proprietary interest.Footnote 127 In any event, Justices Deane and Gaudron themselves had earlier accepted that pre-existing native interests with respect to land did not have to conform to common law concepts of tenure in order to gain recognition.Footnote 128 This was a pointed rejection of Lord Sumner's reasoning in Re Southern Rhodesia Footnote 129 in favour of a more enlightened approach, so it was quite inconsistent for them to conclude later that native rights in land constituted a lesser interest than one recognized by the common law.
Most problematic of all, however, was the additional ground advanced by Deane and Gaudron JJ that where aboriginal occupation was terminated by third parties, the ‘lack of effective challenge would found either an assumption of acquiescence in the extinguishment of the title or a defence based on laches or some statute of limitations’.Footnote 130 Given Australia's notorious history of violent aboriginal dispossession,Footnote 131 upheld over centuries by the courts, it is highly unlikely that judicial avenues for the successful vindication of aboriginal rights were ever available, and that acquiescence or laches could amount in such circumstances to a valid defence. Ultimately, although Deane and Gaudron JJ took pains to establish the egregious nature of the wrongs suffered by Australian aboriginals, whose rights were therefore not ‘illusory’,Footnote 132 the Justices concluded by privileging Crown grants over native interests in spite of the acknowledged illegality of past executive acts.
In spite of the voluminous criticism of this aspect of the Mabo decision,Footnote 133 the Australian High Court has not budged. In Wik Peoples v Queensland,Footnote 134 for example, the High Court maintained that grants inconsistent with native title rights operated to extinguish the latter, with their point of departure being the factual one that pastoral leases did not grant inconsistent rights. Likewise in Western Australia v Ward the outcome of extinguishment by inconsistent grant was again endorsed by the High Court. This time around, the majority judgment stressed the need for identifying the rights and interests possessed under traditional laws and customs, and comparing these to the legal nature and incidents of the right granted.Footnote 135 To the extent that the two were not inconsistent with each other they could co-exist, with native rights yielding to those subsequently granted. Insofar as the two were incompatible, however, native rights and interests would be extinguished by the inconsistent grant.Footnote 136
Once it is accepted that indigenous rights are of a proprietary nature, and once it is accepted that these rights are recognized by the common law—two propositions for which there is copious authority—then they can only be terminated by lawful, constitutional means. Since the standard for so doing has long been settled as clear and plain statutory authorization, this necessarily precludes extinguishment by implication or by inconsistent grant and, more fundamentally, extinguishment by prerogative power. In Australia, despite all the rhetoric of recognition by the common law, indigenous rights and title remain in a vulnerable position, for these standard constitutional safeguards have been routinely ignored by the courts.
V. CONCLUSION
The ‘indigenous renaissance’ of the last few decades has generated and continues to generate copious litigation around the Commonwealth. In many instances, courts invoke common principles, but still it would be going too far to say that a unified jurisprudence exists. There are many localized differences, and in some jurisdictions legislative intervention has caused the common law to branch off in different directions.
The more difficult question, however, is whether the common law as it has evolved in any of these places is a model to be emulated in any place where indigenous rights issues remain unresolved. The foregoing discussion suggests that modern jurisprudence on certain key issues related to the source, proof, content and strength of indigenous rights is inconsistent, uneven, and frequently discriminatory. For instance, whereas indigenous peoples have to satisfy a rigorous standard to prove their entitlement to land or resource rights, the mere ‘assertion’ of sovereignty was enough for the British crown to acquire a variety rights on a breathtaking scale, in some places encompassing an entire continent. Freehold and even leasehold rights sourced in the municipal common law are much stronger than native title rights, the latter being described in Australia as ‘inherently fragile’. In Canada, aboriginal title is subject to ‘inherent limitations’, which limits the use that its holders can make of the land. Ultimately, recognition of indigenous rights has been a Pyrrhic victory for many indigenous peoples, for the common law has always asserted the right to extinguish them.
Indeed, evident from the foregoing is that the existing status quo is not easy to dislodge, not simply because the passage of time makes evidence harder to obtain, but also because the stakes are constantly mounting. Third party interests, natural resource extraction, and concerns about national sovereignty are powerful impediments, which combine to cement opposition to the recognition of indigenous rights from the State and citizen alike. The Sisyphean labours required of indigenous peoples in order to obtain restitution for past dispossession would suggest that current approaches are flawed. If so, it seems obvious that both process and substance need examining: specifically, how appropriate is litigation for settling these matters, and what should be the choice of law? These are significant issues in their own right, so only the briefest of observations can be offered by way of conclusion.Footnote 137
Of the three branches of government, the judiciary seems to be the least well-equipped to deal with issues of the magnitude presented by claims for recognition of indigenous rights to lands and resources. There are the obvious procedural handicaps, such as the adversarial nature of common law courts, their convoluted rules relating to process, the myriad restrictions around expert evidence and out-of-court statements, and the laborious pace at which they function. These impediments, however, pale next to the matters of substance involved.
It is no exaggeration to state that indigenous rights’ claims attack the very body and soul of postcolonial societies. Today the acquisition of sovereignty is a distant memory, and however wrongful initial acts of dispossession might have been, those have since been plastered over by centuries of settlement and development. That indigenous peoples may still have a legitimate claim to lands and resources is a prospect with worrisome economic implications, hence the anxiety in jurisdictions where indigenous rights are recognized for the first time, manifested subsequently either in legislative reversal or executive non-compliance. In New Zealand, for example, the historic Ngati Apa Footnote 138 decision upholding Maori customary rights provoked such controversy that the government reacted swiftly, enacting the Foreshore and Seabed Act (NZ) 2004/93 by which Crown ownership of the foreshore and seabed areas was definitively asserted and existing customary Maori rights extinguished.Footnote 139 On the other side of the globe, even though the decision of the Belize Supreme Court in Cal has been rightfully celebrated as a positive development, the sobering reality is that internal opposition has been so fierce that the government is yet to implement the court's ruling.Footnote 140
Given the sweeping implications of recognizing indigenous rights, both for third party rights-holders and national development goals, the unsuitability of the judiciary should not come as a surprise. Aside from the institutional limitations, the reality is that the judiciary is an instrument of the dominant system and cannot be realistically held up as a neutral arbiter. This has been observed and critiqued in key common law jurisdictions including the United States, Australia and Canada.Footnote 141
Conversely, direct dealings between indigenous groups and the government on land and resource-use conflicts approximates more closely to a bilateral process of negotiation, which is a flexible and historically sensitive way to proceed. Early support from the executive is also pragmatic, for as experienced by indigenous groups from the Maya in Belize all the way back to the Cherokees in the United States,Footnote 142 judicial affirmation of native rights is ultimately meaningless without it.
The other difficulty relates to the choice of law. Since the common law is the law of the dominant system, its rules predictably ensure its own survival, as demonstrated repeatedly in the foregoing discussion. The landmark cases contain many laudable statements professing respect for the rights of indigenous inhabitants, but given the requirements of proof simultaneously laid down, the subordinate nature of indigenous rights and their ultimate vulnerability to extinguishment, those statements often end up amounting to little more than rhetoric.
Conversely, international law has increasingly been embracing more robust standards in favour of indigenous rights. More than two decades ago the Human Rights Committee, the treaty-monitoring body of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), interpreted minorities’ right to culture conferred in Article 27 of the treaty to include land rights.Footnote 143 Significantly, this was attended by positive obligations on states, requiring ‘legal measures of protection’ of land and resource rights.
The newly minted United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples is a development of considerable importance, espousing as it does robust standards on key issues of land and resource rights and self-determination. Crucially, the unprecedented nature of its formulation, which included the participation of indigenous peoples and their representatives and resulted in the eventual support of a record-setting number of states, point to normative force of the document.Footnote 144 Reflecting more broadly on the development of international standards over the past few decades, scholar James Anaya points to an ‘international consensus on indigenous peoples’ rights’,Footnote 145 to which he attributes legal and not just moral force.Footnote 146 In Anaya's view, the attendant obligations and expectations can already be described as having acquired the character of customary international law.Footnote 147
International processes have well-rehearsed limitations, particularly in their lack of binding enforcement mechanisms. Even so, it would be a mistake to dismiss international law on indigenous rights as irrelevant. International treaty monitoring bodies have demonstrated an increased willingness to rule in favour of indigenous peoples.Footnote 148 The CERD Committee has been particularly active, and in proceedings before them they have issued both general findings requesting governments to initiate legislative reformFootnote 149 as well as recommendations requiring specific state action.Footnote 150 The resulting standards reflect moral vindication of indigenous rights, and more concretely, they have even influenced domestic litigation in one recent instance,Footnote 151 indicating an evolving role for international law.
Regional bodies have also been active, and in the recent past there have been several landmark decisions in favour of indigenous communities.Footnote 152 Despite the omnipresent challenges of enforcement, these decisions serve a number of important roles: they contribute to the development of a more coherent jurisprudence;Footnote 153 they heighten awareness of problems faced by indigenous communities, which can in turn generate solutions; they garner negative publicity which can pressure governments into action; and they provide opportunities for collaboration and activism by indigenous peoples and their supporters.Footnote 154
Admittedly, resort to international law is no panacea for postcolonial disputes around indigenous land rights. At the very least, however, given the procedural and substantive limitations inherent in domestic litigation, evolving international standards present options of potential value. These need not be invoked narrowly through dispute-resolution procedures, but can also be used less confrontationally as evidence of customary international law in order to guide negotiations between indigenous peoples and States and shape legislative and executive policy. In this way, equivocal common-law standards need not figure as the only model for indigenous peoples seeking redress for historical dispossession.