Key Takeaways

By Chad Dashly, the Current

• John Rustad told reporters on Feb. 10 he remains undecided about running again, with a Feb. 15 deadline to file an application supported by 250 member signatures.
• His pitch centers on affordability pressures and a struggling forestry sector, positioning “kitchen-table” concerns as the priority.
• Rustad drew contrast with internal culture-war flashpoints, arguing many workers can’t afford to lead with social-issue fights when bills are rising.
• He presented himself as a unifier, praising rivals’ “skill sets,” rejecting purity tests, and pledging support for the eventual winner.
• If he runs, the contest becomes a referendum on whether the party chooses discipline and economic focus—or stays stuck in internal conflict.

The Deep Dive

John Rustad walked back into Victoria this week with a message that sounded less like a comeback tour and more like an attempt to pull his party back to ground level. At his Feb. 10 news conference, Rustad didn’t pretend the Conservative leadership question is simple. He said he’s still undecided about running again, and he put a hard date on the decision: Feb. 15, the deadline to file an application backed by 250 member signatures.

That hesitation matters because it reframes his potential return. Instead of projecting inevitability, Rustad cast the moment as a calculation—whether he can steady the movement or whether his re-entry sharpens the very tensions he says he wants to calm. In other words, is Rustad a reset button, or a new spark?

Affordability and forestry over faction fights

Rustad’s “why now” argument was direct: affordability is squeezing households, and forestry is faltering. He contrasted those pocketbook pressures with the party’s internal pull toward culture-war battles—debates about gender identity in education and competing narratives about residential schools. The most forceful line wasn’t a slogan; it was a reality check. Rustad said he’s hearing from mill workers who are focused on mortgages and paycheques, not the latest social-media dispute.

A bid to shift the center of gravity

That’s the strategic bet behind his appearance: that B.C. conservative politics can refocus on day-to-day economics, jobs, and housing. Rustad is effectively arguing the next leader has to be a kitchen-table opposition leader first, and not a permanent combatant in online cultural conflict. In a province where housing costs and economic anxiety touch nearly everyone, that’s not a niche position—it’s an attempt to claim the political middle of the conversation.

The brand problem he can’t dodge

Rustad’s challenge isn’t that his message is too moderate. It’s that his name is tied to the turbulence he’s urging the party to move past. He resigned in December saying he wanted to avoid a “civil war” inside the party. Over the last year, caucus fractures and discipline fights helped define the Conservatives as a movement still learning how to act like a government-in-waiting. When you’ve been the leader during the roughest stretches, you don’t get to return as a neutral referee.

Still, Rustad may be uniquely positioned to argue for a “back to basics” reset precisely because he’s already lived the costs of internal warfare. He praised other candidates’ strengths, dismissed factional purity tests about who qualifies as a “real Conservative,” and promised to support the eventual winner—even if that winner would prefer he “go golfing.”

Why It Matters

If Rustad runs, the race becomes bigger than one candidate’s comeback. It becomes a high-stakes choice about what the B.C. Conservatives want to be: a disciplined affordability-and-jobs operation that tries to broaden appeal, or a party locked in recurring internal arguments that distract from economic pressures. Either way, his Feb. 15 deadline forces a decision point—one that could clarify whether the movement is ready to prioritize seriousness over satisfaction and unify around a practical agenda.

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.