“The best Environment Minister B.C.’s ever had,” declared CKNW’s Rafe Mair. The Victoria Times Colonist called him “one of the most effective opposition politicians in recent years,” while the Financial Post described him simply as “one of the party’s bright lights.”
The words come from old election pamphlets carefully kept by Munmohan Singh Sihota—better known to British Columbians as Moe Sihota—slightly aged now, but still carrying the story of a young politician beginning to make his mark on the province.
This October marks 40 years since Sihota’s historic election to the B.C. Legislature in 1986. It was a win that made him the first Canadian of South Asian descent elected to a provincial legislature, and one that would eventually lead to another first: becoming Canada’s first South Asian provincial cabinet minister.
Yet, speaking to Sihota four decades later, it is clear that the “firsts” were never quite how he measured his own journey. In fact, he admits that talking about himself makes him uncomfortable. Even now, when people ask him to write a book about his life in politics, he hesitates. Perhaps, he jokes, a collection of interviews around this 40th anniversary will have to substitute for one.
Born in 1955 and raised in Lake Cowichan, Sihota’s politics began long before he ever entered the legislature. His grandfather arrived in Canada in 1907; his father and father-in-law followed in the 1930s. Lake Cowichan was a small, working-class forestry community, and the stories Sihota heard growing up were those of immigrant men who worked difficult, often dangerous jobs while facing discrimination.
“I was born into a working-class family and a working-class community,” he says, “but I was also born into a working-class political ideology.” That perhaps explains much of what came later. After studying social work at UBC and law at the University of Victoria, and practicing law in Esquimalt, Sihota entered municipal politics before winning Esquimalt-Port Renfrew for the BC NDP in 1986.
He remembers that election night vividly, but not because he knew he was making history. His constituency was overwhelmingly Caucasian, with, as he recalls, perhaps only a dozen Indian families. When he arrived at the hall to deliver his victory speech, roughly 1,500 people were waiting. As the cheering continued, Sihota looked around the room and noticed something along its edges: elderly Indo-Canadians, some he recognized from Vancouver Island. It was in their faces, he says, that the meaning of the night finally registered: “This was just more than an election of an individual.”
There had, of course, been barriers. During the 1986 campaign, former B.C. premier Dave Barrett advised Sihota to get on the radio early. Once people heard him speak about working-class issues, Barrett told him, “the color evaporates.” Sihota says the advice proved right. But he is also quick to put his own experience into perspective: whatever he encountered, the generations before him had endured far worse: “My obligation was to make sure that what they endured was not repeated.”
Over the next 15 years in the legislature, Sihota built a political career that went well beyond representation. As Environment Minister, he helped create more than 200 new provincial parks, changed the way B.C.’s forests were managed and introduced some of the country’s strongest clean-air regulations. As Labour Minister, he extended workers’ compensation coverage to farm workers—something he felt strongly about because so many South Asians worked in agriculture without the same protection if they were injured.
But ask what people from the community still stop him to talk about, and another achievement comes up repeatedly: bringing Punjabi instruction into B.C. schools. For Sihota, language was never merely academic. “The protection of language is so important to protecting your culture and your traditions and maintaining your sense of identity,” he says. The policy extended to Punjabi, Mandarin and Japanese, recognizing both the cultural importance of those languages and Canada's growing relationship with Asia.
And at home, there was Jessie. Sihota makes a point of mentioning his wife and the support that sustained a demanding life in public office. “There is no way you can succeed in political life if you don’t have a partner who provides you the support,” he says. “I’ve been blessed in that.”
Four decades on, perhaps the most striking thing is how little Sihota talks about legacy as something belonging solely to him. Today, South Asians occupy cabinet tables, legislatures, courtrooms and boardrooms across Canada. Sihota sees a connection, but never claims the road began with him. His generation, he says, simply “pierced the veil”—benefiting from those who came before and creating more room for those who followed.
Politics remains part of his life. He still offers advice, follows public affairs closely and, despite years away from elected office, is pleasantly surprised by how often people remember him.
But these days, another role brings him a very different kind of joy: being a grandfather. Away from cabinet tables, campaigns and the weight of being “the first,” time with his granddaughter, Maya, has given Sihota the chance to rediscover something much simpler. After a life spent opening doors for others, perhaps there is something wonderfully fitting about Moe Sihota finding his greatest joy today not in looking back at history, but in experiencing the world anew through the generation ahead.
