NIMBYism in Vancouver: Progress Delayed or Communities Defending Themselves?

The former CEO of BC Housing, Shayne Ramsay, was recently heckled during a public hearing about a redevelopment project in Kitsilano, and it wasn’t just an isolated moment, but rather a reflection of something deeper. In recent weeks, an ongoing and intensifying conflict has emerged at the heart of Vancouver’s housing crisis, where the battle between urgent development and neighbourhood resistance has become increasingly apparent. 

Point Grey and Kitsilano, two of Vancouver’s most iconic and affluent neighbourhoods are victims of this tension, as the city struggles with record-high housing costs, increasing homelessness, and a worsening affordability crisis. Long-time residents are rising up not against housing but against how it’s currently being built. 

City staff and pro-housing advocates in the area see these movements as emblematic of a powerful, quiet force stalling progress: NIMBYism, or “Not In My Backyard.” 

From the perspective of those who organize and join these neighbourhood resistance groups, the “NIMBY” label is believed to be overly simplistic and dismissive of what they believe are legitimate concerns.

They argue that their opposition is not based on a fundamental desire to exclude others but rather on a more defensive effort to protect their community’s existing quality of life and to hold developers accountable. A common concern is often surrounding the preservation of “neighbourhood character,” which includes the community’s unique aesthetic or overall feel. Many residents invest their savings into a home precisely because the area might be quiet or low-density with lots of surrounding nature. They see new large-scale developments, particularly those that are out of scale, as a direct challenge to this character that makes their community different. 

 Beyond aesthetics, these groups raise practical objections about livability and infrastructure. They argue that densification without commensurate investment in public services will inevitably strain the community. Common concerns include a predictable increase in traffic congestion on local streets, insufficient parking for new and existing residents, and overcrowded schools and community centers that are already at capacity. They see their activism as a necessary check on pro-development forces, ensuring that there is a proper, holistic planning process that considers not just the need for more housing units, but also the long-term sustainability and functionality of the neighbourhood for the people who already live there. They contend that their goal is not to stop progress, but to ensure that growth is responsible, sustainable, and respectful of the community it joins.

However on the other hand, those who disagree with these neighbourhood resistance groups, argue that such justifications serve as a convenient or more socially acceptable veil for more exclusionary motivations. Pro-housing advocates contend that “preserving neighbourhood character” is used as a proxy for maintaining the existing demographic in those neighbourhoods in the status quo. This opposition disproportionately targets denser, multi-family housing projects, which are more accessible to renters, young people, lower-income families and racial minorities. 

A significant amount of research also points to economic self-interest as a driver of the “NIMBYism” movement. This is often explained by the “Homevoter Hypothesis,” a theory that posits homeowners, whose largest financial asset is their house, act as a rational and motivated political faction to resist new housing supply. This is based on the common belief that scarcity would increase their property values. From this perspective, their political engagement is not about protecting abstract community ideals, but protecting their personal wealth. 

Finally, critics point out that while concerns over livability, such as increased traffic or strained public services, are legitimate issues, they are often weaponized to create a blanket opposition to any new development. These are fundamentally solvable urban planning challenges, yet they are presented as insurmountable barriers to justify a no-growth agenda. This stance ignores the broader societal consequences: when high-opportunity neighbourhoods block new housing, it exacerbates the regional affordability crisis, increases carbon emissions by forcing people into longer commutes, and limits economic mobility for the entire community.

The Safeway Site

The redevelopment of a derelict Safeway site in Point Grey has become a symbol of this citywide debate. Located at the corner of West 10th and Tolmie, the site sits in what was once a vibrant village-like shopping district. But today, boarded-up storefronts and vacant shops tell a different story—one of decline, delay, and uncertainty.

To address both the site’s economic stagnation and the city’s broader housing shortage, a developer—BGO, backed by Sun Life Financial—proposed a bold plan: two rental towers (19 and 21 storeys), 571 homes, 20% of them below-market units, along with a new grocery store.

For housing advocates, this was a clear win. More rental homes in an underutilized, transit-accessible space. A mix of incomes. New commercial vitality. But for Friends of Point Grey Village (FPGV), a residents' group formed to influence the development, the plan represented a loss.

They argued that the towers were too tall, the design too generic, and the benefits to the community too minimal. Where was the childcare? The public plaza? The widened sidewalks? The integration into the existing “village” feel?

City Council approved the project anyway in March 2025, but not without years of public hearings, letters, legal threats, and political fallout. And while the project is now technically approved, it’s far from universally accepted.

The battle over the Safeway site is just one front in a broader war. In Kitsilano, the Sen̓áḵw development, a Squamish Nation-led project that will bring over 12,000 new residents to reserve land adjacent to Vanier Park, has triggered a flurry of opposition. The Kits Point Residents’ Association (KPRA) even took the City of Vancouver to court over a services agreement it signed with the Squamish Nation, citing concerns about traffic, transparency, and safety.

In both cases—Point Grey and Kits Point—residents insist they’re not against development. They say they support rental housing, social housing, and even high density. They just want it done “properly.”

But critics argue that this qualified support often amounts to obstruction. The longer these projects are debated, delayed, or redesigned, the more unaffordable the city becomes. While developers and city staff navigate community consultations, housing costs continue to climb, and thousands of people are pushed further to the margins—or out of the city entirely.

In the popular imagination, NIMBYism is easy to caricature: wealthy homeowners protecting their views, their property values, and their peace and quiet. It’s often associated with older, whiter, more affluent residents resisting change in leafy enclaves.

And yes, there’s truth to that. Areas like Kitsilano and Point Grey are among the city’s most expensive and least dense. They benefit from premier amenities—beaches, parks, transit access, schools—and yet often resist proposals that would make those amenities accessible to more people.

However, Groups like FPGV and KPRA don’t speak in the language of exclusion. They talk about “urban design,” “traffic flow,” “infrastructure strain,” “neighbourhood context,” and “livability.” They cite planning documents, demand consultations, and critique the city not for building too much housing—but for doing it poorly.

These arguments are not entirely without merit. Vancouver’s planning process has been deeply criticized for being opaque, inconsistent, and overly developer-driven. Too often, projects are rushed through with minimal engagement or accountability. Community input, when it’s allowed, is often too little, too late.

So when residents push back, they see themselves not as blockers, but as stewards—trying to ensure the city grows in ways that are sustainable, inclusive, and thoughtful.

Even if these groups raise legitimate concerns, the effect of their activism is often the same: delay, revision, or abandonment of housing projects.

NIMBYism in Vancouver is no longer just about saying no. It’s about shaping what “yes” is allowed to look like. And unless that vision expands to include more people, more density, and more urgency, even the most beautiful streetscapes will mask a city that failed to build for the future.