If Vancouver Repeats 2001, Here’s What 2026–2031 Could Look Like π¬ππ
When I look at Vancouver’s 2026 budget — a property tax freeze, $50 million more for police ππ°, and huge cuts to arts, sustainability, planning, and community services — something inside me twists.
Because I’ve lived this before.
I survived the 2001 cuts.
And what I’m seeing now gives me the exact same dread. π’
If this city repeats that history, here’s what the next five years could look like — based on real consequences we already lived through.
1. Community Programs Fade Away One by One π§‘➡️π³️
At first, it looks small:
“Reduced hours.”
“Temporary pause.”
“Low enrollment.”
Then, the reality hits:
- π¨ Art programs vanish
- π€ Youth mentorship stops
- π§ Summer programs get cancelled
- π« Community centres shrink
- π Sustainability workshops die
- πΌ Staff burn out and quit
This is exactly what happened after 2001.
Without these supports, people become isolated, anxious, invisible.
A quieter crisis.
2. Housing Gets Worse… Much Worse π️πΈ
Cut planning & sustainability and you cut the very people who:
- Fast-track affordable housing
- Oversee tenant protections
- Keep developers in check
- Enforce climate-safe building rules
The result?
More luxury towers π️
Fewer affordable homes
More rent hikes π₯
More evictions
Exactly like 2001.
But now, with inflation? even more devastating.
3. Poverty Deepens — Out of Sight Until It Can’t Be Ignored ππ
Cut support services and poverty blooms in the shadows.
What we saw last time:
- More people couch-surfing π️
- Seniors struggling quietly π΅π
- Disabled people facing crisis π©π¦½
- Food bank lineups growing π₯«
- More survival sex work
- More hidden homelessness
This will all happen again.
4. Police Move Into Spaces Where Community Used to Be π➡️π️
When you remove helpers and add police, enforcement fills the void.
Expect more:
- Street sweeps π§Ή
- Ticketing of poor people ❌π΅
- Over-policing youth π¨
- Responses to mental health crises by force instead of care π
Not because police are “bad,”
but because everything else was cut.
5. Vancouver’s Creative Heart Starts to Die ππ
Cutting arts and culture never looks catastrophic at first.
Then suddenly:
- Festivals disappear π❌
- Grants dry up
- Studios close
- Murals stop
- Music programs end πΆπ
- Young creatives leave the city
A city without art is a city without soul.
We lost a whole generation in 2001.
We risk losing another.
6. The City Feels Colder, Lonelier, Meaner π₯ΆπΆ♀️
When community spaces shrink, people withdraw.
Neighbourhoods feel different.
Sidewalks feel tense.
People stop making eye contact.
Isolation becomes normal.
Fear replaces connection.
Anger rises.
This is exactly what I remember from the early 2000s —
Vancouver felt hollowed out.
7. Mental Health Crises Rise With No One Left to Catch People π₯π§
In 2001, mental health cuts destroyed lives.
Now Vancouver is repeating that pattern by removing the roles that keep people stable.
The future looks like:
- More ER crowding π
- More untreated crises
- More burnout
- More preventable tragedy
- More police becoming the “default responders”
We lived this already.
It was awful.
8. Vancouver Gets More Expensive — While Feeling More Broken πΈπ
A tax freeze doesn’t make a city cheaper.
Cuts do not:
- Lower rent
- Lower groceries
- Increase wages
- Improve transit
- Support seniors
- Help families survive
Cuts only take away the supports that make survival possible.
9. Inequality Explodes — Again ππ
This is who gets hurt, every single time:
- Renters π
- Low-income families π½️
- Indigenous residents π§‘
- Disabled people π©π¦½
- Seniors π΅
- Youth π§π
- Artists π¨
- Single parents π©π§
And this is who benefits:
π° Wealthy homeowners
π° Developers
π° Police budgets
π° Corporations
We’ve seen this movie before.
10. Five Years From Now, People Ask: “How Did Vancouver Get So Dark?” ππ₯Ί
And the answer will be simple:
Because we cut everything that made the city bright.
We cut community.
We cut connection.
We cut creativity.
We cut climate action.
We cut care.
We cut hope.
And we funded enforcement instead.
This Isn’t Drama — It’s Memory. π’
I lived the last wave of cuts.
I remember the fear.
I remember the service closures.
I remember the poverty.
I remember the isolation.
I remember how long it took to recover — and how many people didn’t.
When I say Vancouver is in danger of going dark,
I’m not exaggerating.
I’m warning you.
Because I’ve seen what happens when a city turns its back on the people who need it most.
And I don’t want to watch it happen again.
Not to us.
Not to Vancouver.
Not now.
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