John Rustad Tells All!
Exclusive Interview with MLA John Rustad on Resigning as Leader of BC Conservatives
John Rustad joined Nuanced with a clear objective: explain what, in his view, actually happened inside the BC Conservative Party—and why the leadership situation unraveled so quickly after the party’s historic breakthrough.
Rather than offering a single-villain narrative, Rustad describes a party that grew at warp speed, recruited candidates under intense time pressure, and became a home for competing groups that never fully agreed on what the party was supposed to be. The result, he argues, was an internal struggle that eventually turned into a coordinated push to remove him—even as the party’s polling and electoral positioning looked strong on paper.
What follows is a focused account of Rustad’s claims about the party’s internal dynamics, the flashpoints that accelerated the conflict, and how he thinks the resignation has changed the party’s vulnerability heading into the next political window.
A party that scaled faster than its internal cohesion
Rustad’s central argument is structural: the BC Conservatives expanded faster than their internal systems could handle. He says he believed the NDP might call an early election, which created a rush to nominate candidates and lock in organization sooner than the party was ready for.
That speed, he argues, came with trade-offs—especially around candidate selection and internal alignment. In his telling, the party became a “big tent” in the most literal sense: people arrived with different political instincts, different expectations about discipline and messaging, and different long-term agendas for what the party should become.
Rustad frames the party as containing three broad factions: a “pure conservative” wing (a label he questions as difficult to define), a more centrist wing he associates with federal Liberal-adjacent thinking, and an old BC Liberal/BC United-oriented faction with its own objectives. He claims these factions frequently fought, and eventually—even though they didn’t agree with each other—they aligned on one shared goal: removing him as the obstacle to taking control.
Vetting failures—and the vetters becoming part of the story
Rustad concedes that the vetting process was imperfect under the time constraints he describes. But he goes further, suggesting that internal gatekeeping itself became part of the problem. He makes the pointed remark that the party “should have vetted the vetters,” claiming that individuals connected to candidate vetting later went on to form 1BC.
In Rustad’s framing, this isn’t just a personal grievance. It’s evidence that the party’s early-stage internal machinery was not reliably oriented toward long-term cohesion. When the people managing entry points aren’t aligned with leadership and party-building objectives, internal fractures show up later—often at the worst possible time.
Free speech, free votes, and the price of internal independence
Rustad presents himself as a genuine believer in free speech and free votes. He argues that democratic legitimacy requires room for internal disagreement—especially in a party trying to build credibility as a grassroots alternative.
But he also describes how that model collided with political reality: MLAs voted their conscience and then faced intense backlash, not only from opponents but from their own ridings. Rustad’s view is that some members wanted the benefits of independence without understanding the costs of backlash, narrative framing, and media amplification.
This theme runs through the interview: the party was not only fighting over ideology—it was fighting over what kind of organization it wanted to be, and whether it could manage disagreement without turning every dispute into a public rupture.
The Dallas Brody and Lindsay Shepherd controversies as accelerants
Rustad draws a distinction between raising difficult issues and the manner in which those issues are framed. On controversies related to residential schools and the “215 anomalies” discussion, he says he did not oppose questions being asked. He says his line was crossed when he believed rhetoric drifted into incitement, hatred, or racial hostility.
He disputes the narrative that he “expelled” Dallas Brody, claiming she left caucus on her own and refused a follow-up meeting. On Lindsay Shepherd, he frames the decision as one of employment discipline and contract expectations: staff, in his view, cannot publicly advance positions that conflict with the party’s stance while under contract, and he argues that repeated posting demonstrated intent rather than a one-off error.
Whether viewers agree with these judgments or not, Rustad’s broader point is that these controversies became flashpoints inside a party already struggling to keep factions aligned and messaging stable.
Leadership review, internal opposition, and the atmosphere of distrust
Rustad points to his leadership review result as a key moment: he met and exceeded the threshold, and he views that outcome as a clear mandate from members. Yet he claims internal opposition remained active, including within the party’s management structures, and that pressure did not diminish after the review.
He also describes an internal environment defined by suspicion—membership-signup disputes, a breached database, and concerns about rule-breaking around signups. He says the party took corrective steps once violations were identified, including refunds and reporting obligations.
That broader environment feeds into another controversy he addresses: phone searches in response to leaks. Rustad portrays this as the result of caucus anxiety about internal leaks and describes the idea emerging in a heated context where caucus wanted action. The takeaway is less about the tactic itself and more about the degree to which trust inside the caucus had eroded.
“Professionally incapacitated” and the politics of narrative
Rustad dismisses the “professionally incapacitated” phrasing as invented language designed to create a veneer of legitimacy for replacing him. He treats it as political messaging rather than a meaningful procedural standard.
The deeper issue he raises is reputational: when internal disputes rely on extreme labels to win the narrative war, the party may succeed in removing a leader—but it risks looking unstable, unserious, or consumed by infighting in the eyes of voters.
The election-timing vulnerability: why he thinks the party is now exposed
Rustad’s most strategic claim is that the resignation has created a political opening for the NDP. He argues the party was positioned well in polling and could have been competitive if an election was called, but leadership uncertainty changes voter psychology quickly: people ask who is in charge, what the party stands for, and whether it can govern itself—let alone the province.
He adds a practical point: leadership races often freeze party fundraising because donations shift toward individual campaigns, while the party infrastructure becomes secondary. If an election window tightens, that can be a real disadvantage.
In Rustad’s telling, this is the central risk: internal conflict has created external vulnerability at the exact moment electoral timing could become opportunistic.
Why he stepped down: avoiding a prolonged internal civil war
Rustad says he had avenues to fight the party’s internal moves, but chose not to pursue them because it would escalate into a drawn-out internal battle—competing claims, competing structures, and constant media oxygen. He frames his resignation as a decision to prevent the party from becoming trapped in a public civil war that would eclipse the issues the party exists to contest.
This is the key piece of his rationale: he presents stepping aside not as surrender, but as an attempt to limit institutional damage during a period where the province may be heading toward another major political moment.
What Rustad wants supporters and observers to understand
Rustad’s message is that the BC Conservatives are now at a fork in the road. He argues the party can either stabilize—clarify identity, unify caucus, and present a coherent governing alternative—or it risks being consumed by the same internal patterns that have derailed conservative projects in B.C. in the past.
In that sense, this interview is less a farewell speech and more an internal post-mortem delivered publicly. Rustad is making a case that what happened was not merely personal conflict. In his view, it was a fight over control and direction inside an organization that grew faster than it could consolidate trust.
And if the province does move into an early election scenario, his warning is straightforward: parties do not lose solely because of policy disagreements. They also lose when voters conclude the party cannot govern itself.