The Meaning of Life and Other Vegetables

Hello everyone.

I think that there is a dark humour aspect in real estate ownership. But more generally, it’s simply dark.

Caveat: I own real estate. A plot of land and a stand-alone house on it. Well, to be fair, I don’t really own it. Not even in the traditional sense. The bank owns it. I’m just a privileged tenant, effectively paying rent to the owner (the bank) – the only differences are that my rent is called “loan repayments”, my lease is indefinite, and when my loan repayment is done (if I’m still alive by then) I’ll be gifted with the property. But all that is beside the point, and I only mention it to put things in some context.

Australia is a big country, with (relatively) not a lot of people in it. So the typical residential property consists of some area of land, with or without some buildings on it. Initially I’ll focus on the land, then say a few words about the buildings (a house, in my case), near the end of the post. Owning a building (or an apartment, if your property is in an apartment building, for example) is not much different to any other material ownership, like a car for example. Quite “boring”. My main interest in today’s post is the supposed ownership of the land.

I find it funny, almost ridiculous, that we feel, or think, that we can “own” land. A piece of the surface of this planet. The planet, and its surface, has been here long before any of us existed, and will probably continue to be here long after all us mortals are gone. It makes more sense to me to think that the planet owns us, not the other way around.

Now, let’s look at it in some more detail. According to the paperwork, I (or the bank) own a specific bit of area of the surface of the planet. It is defined in maps, enclosed between some specific points and lines. That’s the map area. But what about the 3rd dimension? I’m not sure – because I’m not a lawyer and haven’t really looked into it – how deep into the ground my “ownership” goes. I’m sure it goes in at least to some extent, but when we get to infrastructure depth (for example, sewer lines), I very much doubt I have full (or any) reign. I’m quite sure that, at least where I live, from a certain depth, the government/municipality or the utility providers have much more weight than I, the surface dweller…

Next, what about the space above “my property”? I’m pretty sure that my sovereignty in that direction does not extend beyond the top of my roof, or the tallest tree in my yard. Ask the birds flying through.

So, I am left with the ground surface, maybe a bit below it and above it, and the vegetation that I managed to salvage or raise on it. That’s plenty for me, sure. But here comes the main point. Years ago I heard (or read) someone state that when one buys land, they essentially obtain the services of the government (including the police, if necessary) in ensuring that no one else could utilise that area but them, unless they give permission. It’s an act of exclusion. You pay for the right (or the power) to say, essentially to anyone/everyone “Thou shalt not come unto here unless I say so” (let alone, do anything here that I do not approve of). Obviously, there are lots of exceptions to that – mostly in your persistent inability to withhold actions of the government itself (at least that’s how it is in Australia) – but essentially that’s it.

My last note is about the house itself. There is currently a major housing availability crisis in Australia (or at least in my state/region). At least, this is what the media say; what I hear from real people around me is consistent with it. I won’t go into the reasons here. The point is: If I have a spare bedroom (or two) sitting unused in my house, and I don’t let anyone sleep in it – technically, I could rent it out – it’s also an act of exclusion. I’m not raising an ethical question here, at the moment. It’s perfectly reasonable to not let strangers live in your house (please note that “reasonable” does not pertain to “right” or “wrong”; only to the existence of reasoning). All I’m doing here, right now, is pointing out (possibly, mostly to myself) that this is what I’m doing. I’m telling all those potential tenants “No, despite what it might look like, my house is not a potential solution to your hardship.”

Crazy? Masochistic? Maybe. Nevertheless, worth saying out loud – I feel.

Peace to all.