The Price of Progress? Vancouver’s Woodward’s Redevelopment Project

For decades, the Downtown Eastside has been home to some of the city’s most vulnerable populations, with some of the country’s highest rates of homelessness, addiction, and mental health issues. But as much as community development is needed in the DTES, there are two sides to the apparent progress that’s been made in recent years. When does this redevelopment actually help, and when does it push out the very people it’s meant to support? How do you distinguish between the redevelopment of a rundown area versus the erasure of a historical community hub? Can both occur simultaneously, to good and bad outcomes?

The History of Woodward’s

Vancouver’s Woodward’s redevelopment project is one of the best illustrations of these dynamics. Founded in 1903, the original Woodward’s department store was a central Vancouver landmark and a popular community hub for the city’s working class. However, as the city began to change, so did the store's fortunes. By the early 1990s, the rise of chain stores and shifting economic conditions slowed business. The store filed for bankruptcy in 1993, and the site stood vacant for years. Eventually, as Vancouver’s real estate market grew rapidly, the Woodward's building became a focal point for redevelopment. Community advocates, including residents and activists, protested for the site to be used for social housing, while city planners and developers were eager to build high-end condos and commercial buildings.

The original Woodward's building - Heritage Vancouver

“Woodsquat”

All of this discussion culminated in the Woodward’s Squat, or "Woodsquat,” in September of 2002. This was a protest that created a three-month tent city, broadly considered to be one of the most prominent acts of civil disobedience ever in Vancouver. Beginning as a protest by activists and community advocates against then-Mayor Gordon Campbell and the BC Liberal government, it culminated in violence and mass arrests. Their primary aim: to see the Woodward’s site be redeveloped into social housing. While the city initially agreed, demands for the entire site to be used for social housing were eventually diluted during redevelopment, and none of the protesters were involved in the consultation period. 

Modern Day

In 2003, the City of Vancouver purchased the Woodward's building from the provincial government and began planning for the redevelopment of the site. Completed in 2010, the result was a massive mixed-use development—part luxury condos, part social housing, and part commercial facilities. It boasts over 530 market and 200 non-market residential units (around 27% social housing), as well as various retailers and public services. The architecture was intentionally focused around creating inclusive public spaces. This project was certainly meant to provide new opportunities and bolster economic growth in an area that needed it. Planning was done with the area’s vulnerable residents in mind—a lot more than can be said for some other developments in the area. In practice, however, the redevelopment of Woodward’s has still come with an array of issues. The creation of Woodward’s has significantly driven up the area’s property values and brought in the types of businesses that don’t cater to the community’s most vulnerable residents: affluent restaurants, large retail stores, and recreational services. The original demands from local residents that the area be used entirely for social housing were eventually reduced.  

This is where the debate around Woodward’s gets complicated. On paper, it looks like a perfect solution—a blend of market-rate condos and social housing, with public art, open spaces, and community services mixed in. It was meant to be more than another soulless luxury development thrown into the middle of the Downtown Eastside. And yet, the unintended consequences can’t be ignored. The rapid influx of higher-end goods and services has made life for surrounding residents more and more expensive. And while 200 non-market housing units might seem like a solid effort, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to the thousands of low-income residents who call the DTES home. Social housing doesn’t exist in a vacuum—when everything around it becomes more expensive, so does the cost of living for those in subsidized units. Many of the DTES’s most vulnerable residents rely on nearby affordable stores, restaurants, and support services. When those disappear, the few housing opportunities available aren’t enough to keep some residents in the neighborhood.

There’s also the reality of social displacement. When the demographic of a neighborhood shifts—when wealthier residents move in and businesses start catering to them—the cultural fabric of the community changes. Even if long-time residents are still physically there, they might not feel like they belong anymore, and the original identity of the neighbourhood is eroding. 

So, was the redevelopment a good thing or a bad thing? Woodward’s showed that even well-meaning redevelopment projects can accelerate gentrification. If Vancouver wants to avoid the DTES becoming another case of complete displacement in the name of "revitalization," future projects need to go beyond just including a few affordable housing units. They need to protect existing residents from being priced out. They need to ensure that community services and businesses catering to low-income residents aren’t lost in the process. And finally, they need to involve as many local residents and community advocates in the consultation period as possible. At the end of the day, it is their input that will do the most good for the community. 

The DTES isn’t just another neighborhood—it’s a historically significant, deeply complex community that deserves more than surface-level solutions. If Vancouver wants to call projects like Woodward’s a success, the city needs to make sure that “revitalization” doesn’t become replacement. They need to keep in mind local businesses and communities. They need to place the needs and voices of local citizens at the forefront of the development process, not the profit motives of developers and planners. That’s what real revitalization looks like, and that’s what a neighbourhood like the Downtown Eastside needs. 

The iconic Woodward's 43 sign.