The first wave of colonization in the Okanagan Valley saw Canadian, British and Belgian entrepreneurs parachuting into the valley to create a series of fruiting gardens and their service towns, integrating European immigrants into a system that supported a British managerial class. This work continues, although now it supports a Canadian managerial class, including this man, who believes that putting a public burden on a few minor private land rights to create a national park in the last shreds of bunchgrass at the point where the desert meets the water is an intolerable burden:
His attempt to explain that to preserve a highly-damaged and essential ecosystem is less vital than unfettered camping rights for a handful of land owners is an excellent example of White privilege. The second wave of colonization, the one by which he makes his living, is the ongoing resale of the last grasslands and old orchards for housing development, largely serving Canadians wishing for an aesthetic experience in the sun, rather than the Canadian cold. What that amounts to in my city, Vernon, is a series of aesthetic gestures, like splashes of paint, intended to look gorgeous as you cruise in by car to view your new property but tawdry up close as they struggle with the heat …
… and the smoke caused by colonial forest policy.
But what can you expect from a culture that uses the Buddha as a doorstop?
We can do better than remain an invasive species.