The Current, Chad Dashly

New political parties rarely fail because of ideology alone. More often, they collapse under the weight of ego, unclear authority, and internal power struggles or inability to raise donations. The brief and chaotic rise of OneBC is a textbook example of how not to launch a political movement and how quickly a lack of discipline can undo even the most ambitious project.

OneBC emerged amid deep fractures on the political right in British Columbia. With voters frustrated by establishment parties and conservative forces splintering, the space for a new alternative appeared ripe. At the centre of that effort was Dallas Brodie, who stepped into the role of leader and became the public face of a party still finding its footing.

But almost from the outset, OneBC suffered from a problem that has plagued countless insurgent movements: power existed without structure.

Behind the scenes Othman Mekhloufi, a political activist and organizer within conservative grassroots circles, became a growing presence. Mekhloufi was not an elected official, not a candidate, and not a formally accountable party executive. Yet he was widely perceived, internally and externally, as exercising influence over communications, strategy, and internal direction.

That influence quickly became a flashpoint.

According to multiple accounts from within OneBC’s orbit, Mekhloufi’s role was never clearly defined. What began as activist energy and organizational support blurred into something far more consequential. Decisions appeared to be shaped by informal authority rather than transparent process. Messaging grew erratic. Internal disputes spilled into public view. For a party desperately trying to establish legitimacy, this was a serious liability.

Brodie’s decision to remove Mekhloufi from any role associated with OneBC was less about a single incident and more about an attempt to reassert leadership control. The concern was not merely tone or temperament, but the existence of what some insiders described as a parallel centre of power, influence without responsibility.

From a leadership perspective, the move made sense. New parties survive only if they project discipline, coherence, and credibility. Allowing unelected activists to appear as de facto decision-makers is an invitation to chaos. Brodie’s action was intended to draw a firm line: authority flows from leadership, not from loudness or proximity.

But the damage had already been done.

The firing did not stabilize OneBC. Instead, it exposed just how fragile the party’s internal foundation really was. Trust had eroded. Factions had hardened. What should have been a private organizational correction became a public rupture. The party’s internal conflicts intensified rather than subsided.

Not long after, Brodie herself was removed as leader by OneBC’s board — a stunning reversal that underscored the central irony of the situation. In attempting to impose order, she revealed how little structural authority actually existed to begin with.

This is where OneBC’s story shifts from internal squabble to political cautionary tale.

Parties do not fail simply because of controversial personalities. They fail when roles are undefined, governance is weak, and leadership authority is ambiguous. In OneBC’s case, the party never clearly established who had decision-making power, how strategy was set, or how internal disagreements would be resolved. That vacuum was inevitably filled by personality, influence, and conflict.

Figures like Othman Mekhloufi become symbols in such environments, not because they are uniquely powerful, but because weak institutions allow informal power to flourish. When accountability mechanisms are absent, perception becomes reality, and internal resentment grows.

This is why commentators like Jas Johal have seized on Mekhloufi’s name. Not because he is a major political figure, but because his involvement represents something larger: a party overtaken by internal dysfunction before it could even define its purpose.

The OneBC saga should serve as a warning to any movement attempting to capitalize on voter frustration. Passion and disruption are not substitutes for governance. Activism does not replace structure. And leadership without clear authority is leadership in name only.

British Columbia’s political landscape may still be hungry for alternatives, but OneBC’s implosion shows that credibility is built long before the first press release. Without disciplined organization, even the most opportune political moment can be squandered.

In the end, OneBC didn’t fall because of its ideas. It fell because it never decided clearly and collectively, who was actually in charge and what they stop for.

Editor Notes: Who Dallas Brodie and Jas Johal:

• Dallas Brodie: Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA) in British Columbia, representing Vancouver-Quilchena.  
• Brodie was originally elected as a BC Conservative MLA in the 2024 provincial election.  
• In 2025, she and another MLA Tara Armstrong left the Conservatives to form a new political party called OneBC (which is a far right-wing/populist party).  
• She had been serving as interim leader of OneBC, but on or around Dec. 13-14, 2025, she was removed as leader by the party’s board amid internal conflict.  

Why Jas Johal might be mentioning her: Johal tweets a lot about British Columbia provincial politics, especially controversies involving small or new parties like OneBC and its leaders, including Brodie’s leadership struggles and the party’s policies. 

The Current Chad Dashly

Contrasting Styles in Hockey and Politics Reveal Deeper Truths About Leadership

Introduction

At first glance, it may seem that the Vancouver Canucks, an NHL team battling for relevance on the ice, and the federal Conservative Party, Canada’s perennial political opposition, have little in common. One navigates the literal slippery surface of the rink, while the other faces the figurative slipperiness of Parliament’s question period. However, their destinies appear curiously linked when examining the approaches of their respective captains: Quinn Hughes, leading from the blue line, and Pierre Poilievre, striving to steer a restless caucus. Their contrasting leadership styles reveal much about accountability, identity, and how to handle adversity in high-pressure Canadian arenas.

Quinn Hughes: Understated Confidence and Quiet Accountability

Quinn Hughes epitomizes the modern vision of a sports captain. His leadership is marked by understated competence, quick pivots, and a refusal to indulge in drama. When a play breaks down, Hughes does not lash out at teammates, officials, or fate. Instead, he intensifies his efforts skating back to thwart a potential breakaway or making a smarter pass on the next possession. The Canucks’ captain understands that progress is best measured by results, not rhetoric. If the team collapses defensively, he is among the first to backcheck, demonstrating personal responsibility and a focus on solutions rather than scapegoats.

Pierre Poilievre: Command by Volume and the Politics of Blame

By contrast, Pierre Poilievre’s leadership style is anything but understated. Known for his combative tone and relentless messaging, Poilievre often equates volume with vision. When things go awry for the Conservatives whether it’s a dip in polling numbers or a failed policy pitch the Conservative leader is quick to assign blame. Targets include the media, rival parties, central institutions, and sometimes even abstract forces like the “elites.” If Poilievre were an NHL captain, his post-game interviews would likely focus on how the referees, the league, or the ice surface itself are conspiring against his team, rather than accepting that the other squad simply played better.

Organizational Identity Crisis: From Rinks to Question Period

The Vancouver Canucks have, over the years, weathered their fair share of identity crises. Are they rebuilding, contending, or simply treading water waiting for a clear direction to emerge? The Conservatives find themselves in a similar quandary. Are they a government-in-waiting, focused on credible alternatives, or an opposition party more invested in amplifying grievances than in proposing solutions? The clarity of self-understanding that Hughes brings to the Canucks stands in stark contrast to Poilievre’s sometimes ambiguous approach, where it is rarely clear whether the aim is victory or simply making the loudest noise in the arena.

Handling Pressure: absorb or amplify?

Pressure is inescapable for both NHL captains and political leaders. Hughes exemplifies the ability to absorb stress and adapt, making real-time adjustments during a game, both physically and mentally. He pivots, recalibrates, and encourages those around him to do better. Poilievre, on the other hand, seems to thrive on amplifying tension, frequently declaring a crisis and hoping that the intensity of his message will overshadow the lack of concrete alternatives. This approach may energize a base, but it risks alienating those seeking calm, constructive leadership in turbulent times.

Accountability and Results: Accepting Reality versus Deflecting Blame

Perhaps the starkest difference lies in how these two captains confront failure. When the Canucks lose, Hughes accepts responsibility; he sees setbacks as opportunities to improve. For Poilievre, setbacks are more easily attributed to systemic bias whether it’s the scoreboard, the Bank of Canada, or the supposed hostility of the media. For Hughes, reality is a space in which to operate and improve. For Poilievre, it often appears as an adversary to be denounced or redefined.

Conclusion: The Real Test of Leadership

Both the Vancouver Canucks and the federal Conservative Party are desperate for a return to sustained success. The difference lies in how their captains approach this challenge. Hughes seems genuinely interested in winning games with quiet, continuous improvement and a willingness to take accountability. Poilievre appears more focused on winning arguments and building a narrative of adversity. Yet, whether in hockey or politics, the scoreboard eventually defines success. The Canucks may continue to break fans’ hearts, but their captain’s commitment to progress is evident. In politics, as on the ice, true leadership means moving forward, not circling endlessly around the same talking points in your own zone.

Today we learned one captain Quinn Hughes was traded to another team.  The other captain doesn’t have that option.  But his players do.

BC Conservative Party Future After Rustad Resignation | The Current

Opinion: After Rustad’s Chaotic Exit, What Is the Future of the BC Conservative Party?

By Chad Dashly, The Current

The sudden resignation of John Rustad as leader of the BC Conservatives, after a single day of open caucus warfare, has exposed a harsh reality: the BC Conservative Party future is far from settled. The question is no longer just who leads the party. It is whether there is still a coherent party left to lead.

A Day of Chaos That Shattered the Illusion of Unity

For 24 hours, British Columbians watched a political spectacle that felt closer to a leadership mutiny than an orderly transition. On Wednesday, Rustad stood before reporters insisting that he remained leader, even as a majority of the Conservative caucus had reportedly signed statements declaring they had lost confidence in him and were appointing Trevor Halford as interim leader.

Rustad said he was “planning to stay on” and “not planning to step aside.” Less than a day later, he resigned as party leader, though he will continue as MLA for Nechako Lakes. The gap between his defiant public stance and his rapid exit captures the instability at the heart of the party.

Meanwhile, the caucus itself descended into open confusion. Some MLAs insisted there had been a proper vote on leadership. Others said no such vote existed. Some declared Halford the new interim leader. Others flatly rejected that, insisting Rustad remained the only legitimate leader.

A Caucus Speaking with Many Voices, Not One

On one side, MLAs like Harman Bhangu argued that change was necessary and that Halford could provide that fresh direction. On the other, MLAs such as Reann Gasper and Sharon Hartwell expressed unwavering loyalty to Rustad, calling the move against him out of order and insisting he should still become the next premier of B.C.

This was not a caucus calmly debating strategy. It was a caucus at war with itself. Even those trying to sound measured could not hide the uncertainty. Halford acknowledged the process was “fluid” and admitted he was still figuring out what exactly had happened and how to move forward.

When a party can’t even agree on who its leader is, it has a problem that goes deeper than a single personality conflict. It has an identity crisis.

Is the BC Conservative Party Dead—or Just Deeply Fractured?

The obvious question now is whether this chaos marks the beginning of the end for the party. Some will be tempted to write the BC Conservatives off as finished. That would be premature—but so would assuming they will simply bounce back.

The party is not dead. It retains real support among voters frustrated with the status quo, especially those who feel politically homeless after the collapse of the old BC Liberal brand. But the events surrounding Rustad’s resignation show just how fragile that support base could become if internal divisions continue to spill into public view.

Inside the caucus, there are fundamentally different visions of what the future of B.C. should look like. Some members lean toward a populist, anti-establishment, social-conservative movement. Others want a more traditional, business-friendly, centre-right party that looks like a refreshed version of BC United. They disagree on climate policy, resource development, social issues, and the tone the party should strike with voters.

When the only thing uniting these factions was opposition to the governing party, conflict was inevitable the moment real power and responsibility came into view.

Can the Next Leader Unify a Deeply Divided Caucus?

The next leader of the BC Conservatives will inherit more than just a title. They will inherit a caucus that has already chosen sides and a membership base still processing a bitter internal fight. The challenge will be nothing less than redefining what the party stands for—and getting people who barely agree on that question to move in the same direction.

Can the next leader unify the party? It is possible, but only under some demanding conditions:

• A clear, shared vision for B.C.: The party needs more than slogans. It needs a credible, detailed vision for the province’s future that can appeal to both its populist and traditional conservative wings.
• Firm but fair internal discipline: A leader who cannot enforce basic caucus discipline will be overrun by factions, leaks, and backroom organizing.
• Respect for democratic legitimacy: Membership votes, leadership reviews, and constitutional rules must be transparent and credible—something that has already been questioned within the party.
• Willingness to lose some members: True unity may require acknowledging that not everyone will stay. A smaller but coherent party may be stronger than a larger but constantly feuding one.

A Party at a Crossroads

What happened around Rustad’s resignation is more than a messy leadership change. It’s a warning. Without a unifying purpose and respect for process, a party that rose quickly on a wave of voter anger could fall even faster under the weight of its own contradictions.

The BC Conservative Party future now depends on whether its next leader can turn a caucus of competing visions into a team, convince members to accept internal rules they may not like, and present British Columbians with a clear, credible alternative government.

Right now, the party isn’t dead—but it is very much in triage. The next leader will decide whether this moment becomes the origin story of a mature provincial party, or the beginning of a slow, public unraveling.