When “Public Good” Isn’t: What One Newfoundland Family Teaches Us About Expropriation Risks

Kristin Muller
Mar 20
3 min read

A recent story out of Conception Bay South should give every Canadian pause—especially those living in rural communities along proposed infrastructure corridors.

After years of uncertainty, a local family saw their property expropriated by the provincial government, and their home destroyed… only for the land to sit unused for years until one day, to their surprise, someone else started building a new house on that land.

Let that sink in.

Not for an urgent hospital. Not for a critical highway bottleneck. Not even for a project that ultimately moved forward. Just sat for years, until it was sold to someone else.

This isn’t just a bureaucratic misstep. It’s a warning.

The uncomfortable truth about expropriation

Governments in Canada have broad powers to expropriate private land for projects deemed in the “public interest.” In theory, this makes sense—major infrastructure sometimes requires difficult trade-offs.

But in practice, the system relies heavily on one assumption: that the project will actually happen—and that it justifies the cost.

The recent Newfoundland case challenges that assumption. Because when land is taken before a project is finalized, funded, or even fully approved, the risk is no longer theoretical. It becomes deeply personal.

Homes are lost.
Farms are fragmented.
Communities are disrupted.

And sometimes… nothing replaces them.

Why this matters right now

Across Ontario and Quebec, communities are being told that large-scale infrastructure projects—like the proposed ALTO high-speed rail corridor—are necessary for the future.

But the Newfoundland case highlights a critical question: What happens if those projects change, stall, or never materialize?

Because history shows that it does happen.

And when it does, the consequences aren’t shared equally. Rural landowners often bear the brunt—losing productive farmland, generational homes, and ecological landscapes that can’t simply be restored.

Project	Year Expropriated	Land Area	Project Outcome	Land Returned?
Mirabel Airport	1969	97,000 acres (~40,000 ha)	Airport opened 1975; passenger service ended 2004; terminal demolished 2014	Partially — most returned 1980s–2019.
Pickering Airport	1972	18,600 acres (~7,530 ha)	Never built; cancelled January 2025 after 53 years	Partially — portions transferred to Rouge Park 2015–17; remainder 2025
LeBreton Flats, Ottawa	1960s	~100 acres; 2,800 families displaced	Urban renewal plan abandoned; land vacant for 50+ years; redevelopment only begun 2020s	No — land retained by NCC; former residents never returned
Spadina Expressway	1963–1971	300+ homes + corridor	Partially built; cancelled 1971; 112 expropriated properties sold 1996	Yes — sold at market value, offered first to former owners
Meyers Farm, Quinte West	2012	~90 ha (222 acres) prime farmland	JTF-2 campus project stalled; land dumped with rock fill; design phase only as of 2018	No — land retained by DND; cheque never cashed
Toronto Expressway Network	1950s–1970s	Multiple corridors	All cancelled after public opposition; some land repurposed	Varies — some became parks, transit corridors

Read more about these cases and the implications of these projects that never happen here:

The risk of moving too fast

One of the most concerning patterns in large infrastructure planning is the push to secure land early—sometimes before final routes, environmental assessments, or community consultations are complete.

From a planning perspective, it may seem efficient. From a human perspective, it’s deeply risky.

The Newfoundland case is a clear example of what can go wrong when expropriation gets ahead of certainty.

A call for accountability

This isn’t an argument against infrastructure. It’s an argument for doing it right.

That means:

Completing full environmental and community impact assessments before land is taken
Ensuring transparent, evidence-based decision-making
Providing stronger protections—and recourse—for landowners (the changes to the Expropriation Act under C-15 further erode the rights of landowners)
And most importantly, not treating rural communities as collateral damage

Because once it’s gone…

Land isn’t just a line on a map. It’s livelihoods. It’s ecosystems. It’s history.

And as the family in Conception Bay South has shown, once it’s taken—even temporarily—the damage can be permanent.

Before we accept expropriation as a necessary step forward, we need to ask a harder question: