When the Rules Get Bent: Unpacking BC's Land Sale Fiasco

Honestly, you'd think selling off chunks of the province, especially prime real estate, would be a pretty straightforward affair, wouldn't you? Dot the i's, cross the t's, make sure everyone knows what's going on. But alas, as a recent BC Supreme Court ruling has starkly reminded us, things aren't always so simple—or, dare I say, so transparent—when the provincial government is involved. And that, my friends, is precisely what landed them in a bit of a pickle.

Turns out, two significant property sales, one involving a sprawling piece of agricultural land in Cowichan and the other a collection of much-needed affordable homes in Richmond, failed rather spectacularly to follow the proper, established procedures. This isn't just a minor administrative oversight, either; we're talking about a judge, Justice David Masuhara, explicitly stating the government fumbled the ball. Big time. It's a ruling that certainly raises an eyebrow, making us wonder just how these sorts of deals are typically handled, or perhaps, mishandled.

Let's talk about the Cowichan deal first, because it's a doozy. Here, the province decided to sell a rather sizable parcel of Agricultural Land Reserve (ALR) land—you know, the stuff meant to be protected for farming—to the Cowichan Tribes for a cool $8.5 million. Now, normally, selling public land, particularly ALR land, to anyone requires a resolution from the local government or, get this, actual public assent. Common sense, right? But the provincial government, in what you could charitably call a creative interpretation of the rules, argued it was merely an "internal transfer" or a sale to another level of government. As if that magically makes the public interest or local input disappear. Justice Masuhara, however, wasn't buying it. Not for a second. He made it crystal clear: this was a sale, a commercial transaction, and therefore, those local government hoops absolutely needed jumping through.

And then there's the Richmond situation, which, if anything, only reinforces the pattern. Eight homes, previously part of a social housing project, were offloaded to a developer for a staggering $22.7 million. Again, the province's argument was, in essence, 'these homes weren't needed anymore.' Yet, once more, the crucial step of securing local government approval or public assent was conspicuously absent. It’s almost as if the standard operating procedure was, well, to skip the procedure. The court's verdict here mirrored the Cowichan case: the proper steps simply weren't taken.

The legal challenge itself, interestingly enough, was spearheaded by former BC Green Party leader Andrew Weaver, alongside some other concerned citizens. Their whole point revolved around Section 26 of the Community Charter, a pretty vital piece of legislation that says, quite plainly, that land dispositions exceeding $10,000 need either a local government resolution or public assent. Unless, of course, a very specific exemption applies. The government tried to lean on these exemptions, but the court found their arguments, shall we say, unconvincing.

Justice Masuhara's ruling isn't about whether the sales themselves were good or bad, or if the prices were fair. No, the core of his decision, and frankly, its power, lies in its insistence on process. On transparency. On accountability. He emphasized that the government has a duty to the public to follow the rules, especially when dealing with public assets. And when those rules are bypassed, it undermines public trust. It really does.

So, what now? The ruling doesn't automatically unwind these sales; the properties aren't suddenly back in the government's hands, not yet anyway. But what it most certainly does is cast a very long, very uncomfortable shadow over the way the provincial government conducts its land transactions. It's a powerful reminder that procedures, even if they seem cumbersome, are there for a reason: to protect the public's interest. The government, for its part, is currently reviewing the decision. One hopes they take this as a genuine opportunity to tighten things up, ensuring that the next time they sell off a piece of our collective property, everyone—and I mean everyone—knows exactly how and why it's happening. Because, in truth, that's really not too much to ask.