Why Did Á’a:líya Warbus Choose the BC Conservatives?
An Interview with the MLA for Chilliwack-Cultus Lake and the Official Opposition House Leader
For much of her life, Á’a:líya Warbus believed conservatives weren’t allies of Indigenous people. Growing up in the Stó:lō territory, the prevailing wisdom was that Indigenous votes belonged to the NDP or Liberals. That was the “mold” she saw, and breaking it would come with judgment, questions, and no small amount of pressure.
But in 2024, Á’a:líya decided to do something few expected: she ran for office with the BC Conservatives.
Entering Politics
Á’a:líya’s decision to pursue politics didn’t begin with partisan loyalties. It started with frustration. While working on the treaty process for her community, she watched progress stall. The process was slow, technical, and often left community members disengaged or confused. What worried her most was how little access Indigenous leaders seemed to have to provincial decision-making. Too often, communities were “waiting for government” rather than directly shaping outcomes.
“I kept asking: how do we get knowledge, direct involvement? How do we get our perspectives and voices heard so these systems aren’t so inaccessible to us?”
That question grew into a realization: to change the system, Indigenous people needed to be inside of it.
The Perception of Conservatives
For Indigenous voters, the NDP and Liberals were seen as natural allies. Conservatives, by contrast, carried a reputation—sometimes fairly, sometimes not—of being dismissive of Indigenous rights and reconciliation. Á’a:líya admits she carried that same perception.
“What I grew up seeing and hearing in my community was that conservatives didn’t support Indigenous people. And that was the only real understanding I had.”
But as she examined the NDP’s record—particularly on drug policy and harm reduction—her doubts grew. BC was in the grip of a toxic drug crisis. Indigenous families were bearing the brunt of it, burying nieces, nephews, brothers, and aunties.
“Our communities are suffering. Our kids are dying. These policies are not working.”
That was a turning point. Her heart aligned with social issues the NDP championed, but when it came to policy outcomes, she couldn’t reconcile the gap between rhetoric and results.
Meeting John Rustad
When colleagues connected her to Conservative leader John Rustad, Á’a:líya agreed to a meeting—but she was skeptical. Online, Rustad was painted as hardline, even extreme. She went in “armored up,” expecting to clash.
Instead, she found him disarming.
“I actually found John to be very open and willing to hear me. He wasn’t patronizing. He listened. And even when we didn’t agree, we could have a real conversation.”
That respect made the difference. Politics, she realized, didn’t have to mean total agreement—it meant being able to keep talking.
The meeting convinced Rustad to greenlight her candidacy. The harder decision was Á’a:líya’s: to say yes.
The Issues That Drew Her In
What convinced Á’a:líya to embrace the BC Conservatives wasn’t blind loyalty—it was alignment on pressing issues. Housing affordability, crime, the healthcare crisis, and above all the toxic drug epidemic became the shared ground. For her, these weren’t abstract debates. They were personal, lived realities in Indigenous communities.
And when Rustad appointed her as House Leader for the Official Opposition, it confirmed her role wasn’t tokenistic. She would help shape strategy, hold government accountable, and push for policies she believed could save lives.
“You’ll never agree 100% with any party. But on the core issues—like the drug crisis and public safety—I saw a path to better results.”
The 2024 Election and the Collapse of BC United
When Á’a:líya entered the race, the BC Conservatives were barely a blip. Most assumed the real contest was between the NDP and BC United. Even Kevin Falcon, BC United’s leader, promised publicly that his party would never fold into Rustad’s.
But within months, Falcon resigned. BC United collapsed. And the BC Conservatives surged.
Suddenly, what looked like a protest party was leading in the polls. On election night, the Conservatives emerged as the Official Opposition, reshaping BC’s political map.
“There were predictions but nothing certain… We aimed for a mark, but it was like the weather—sometimes you forecast 20% rain and it pours.”
Navigating Party Divisions
The rise wasn’t without turbulence. MLA Dallas Brodie, who had been elected alongside Á’a:líya, broke away to form her own party. Brodie often posted online that Indigenous people received “too much” government support—a position Á’a:líya rejected.
“We need to be in those rooms to weather those storms. Not with hate, but with knowledge and kindness. Because if we’re not there, those conversations just keep happening without us.”
A New Kind of Conservative
Á’a:líya Warbus doesn’t pretend that joining the Conservatives was easy. It meant internal conflict, external criticism, and the challenge of explaining to her family why she was wearing the Conservative shirt while knocking on doors. But she insists it was the right choice.
“Indigenous people are diverse. We don’t all belong in one box, one party. I’m here because our people deserve to have a voice everywhere decisions are made.”
In a province where politics is shifting faster than anyone predicted, her journey represents something new: the possibility of Indigenous leadership breaking partisan molds—and reshaping what it means to be conservative in British Columbia.