42nd & Grace

The frustration over the social disorder unfolding in communities is entirely understandable. People are angry. They are tired of being told they lack compassion or don’t grasp the complexities of what’s happening.

What they see is a system applying bandages to fractures that clearly need a cast to heal what is shattered.

This week in Kelowna, we saw business owners expressing outrage and a neighbourhood considering watch groups. Their message was consistent: invest more in public safety.

To their credit, municipalities have responded. They’ve increased public safety capacity – at a staggering cost.

Take Penticton. Between 2019 and 2023, the city’s protective services budget grew by 48%. That’s not sustainable. And they’re not alone. In Nanaimo, more than half of the 2026 tax increase is earmarked for public safety. The Vancouver Police Board is seeking another $50 million, pushing its budget close to half a billion dollars.

Police, firefighters, and bylaw officers are doing their best under incredibly difficult circumstances. But increasingly, the tasks they’re handed fall far outside the core duties we expect of them.

For local taxpayers, the danger is clear: municipalities are drifting into areas well beyond their traditional responsibilities. Councils have listened to residents and stepped up. But they’re paying a heavy price, financially and potentially politically.

As noted, local governments are applying bandages: moving people around, dismantling camps, launching “safe streets” initiatives. But the provincial government has failed to provide the cast needed to actually heal the wound.

Calls for treatment always follow the first request for public safety investments. But here’s the truth: in British Columbia, there simply aren’t enough treatment beds, especially government‑funded ones. If you’re living on the street and want help, you join a waitlist and hope a bed opens before you relapse. If you’re lucky, your family can afford a private facility.

Contrast that with Alberta, yes, Alberta.

“In 2020, the provincial government eliminated daily user fees at publicly funded residential addiction treatment facilities for Albertans. Previously, there was a $40 daily user fee, which was a financial barrier to treatment,” reads the Government of Alberta website. The province now funds more than 29,400 publicly funded addiction treatment spaces annually, including detox, residential treatment, and recovery spaces.

How many government‑funded treatment beds exist in British Columbia—the province that prides itself on progressive values and compassion? Good question. You’d likely need a forensic accountant to find out.

The only statistic the B.C. government provides is this: since 2017, it has added 682 publicly funded adult and youth substance‑use treatment beds, including 248 administered through CMHA BC. There is no consolidated total.

For all the talk about treatment, implementation has been tepid. Following Alberta’s lead on access would be a meaningful first step.

Another area desperately needing improvement is counselling. If people could access help before they tip into crisis, we’d see real progress. The BC Greens have long advocated for six fully covered counselling sessions per year under MSP. That makes sense.

And preventing people from sliding into homelessness – whether that’s couch surfing, sleeping in a car, or ending up on the street – also makes sense. Since 2019, the BC Rent Bank has helped keep more than 15,000 people housed, supported 7,200 households to avoid eviction or utility disconnection, and provided assistance to nearly 24,000 individuals.

It’s a program that works yet its future is uncertain because the province hasn’t confirmed ongoing funding. The only plausible explanation is that government is saving the announcement for Budget Day, leaving those who rely on the program to sit in needless anxiety.

The solutions are known. What’s missing is commitment.

Residents are exhausted. Businesses are worried or have given up. Municipalities are tackling challenges they were never designed – or funded – to handle.

The frustration is justified. Yes, some people deserve consequences and bail reform for repeat offenders needs examination.

But if we apply Occam’s Razor—the simplest explanation is often the correct one—the answer isn’t more police. It’s more prevention.

It’s time for provincial leaders to set aside partisan posturing and do what’s required: help people before they fall, and if they do, provide the tools to help them get back up.