Going Too Far

Decriminalization and Open Drug Use

A father and his nine year old daughter had just walked through a plume of secondhand meth smoke.

It was blown from a person using in the open, on a public sidewalk.

The father reacted:

“What the hell are you doing, blowing drugs in my kid’s face?”

“It’s legal now,” the smoker shouted back. “I’m exercising my rights!”

While his statement wasn’t entirely accurate, the man smoking meth had a point.

On Jan. 31, 2023, the government of British Columbia decriminalized (not legalized) possession of 2.5 grams of fentanyl, methamphetamine, and other illicit substances such as cocaine for personal use.

Drug addiction should be treated as a health issue, not a criminal one, said the BC government.

Under decriminalization, people were allowed to use drugs in certain public areas like sidewalks.

Conflict between those using illicit drugs in public, and those who do not, became more common following decriminalization.

Shouting matches occurred as passersby encountered people injecting or smoking drugs at bus stops, in front of cafes, parks, and in public washrooms.

I also heard stories of violent physical exchanges taking place.

Ironically, one of the stated goals of decriminalization was to alleviate the stigma around drug use.

Public heath officials stated that criminalization made it difficult for people who use drugs to access supports due to the stigma associated with addiction.

They also asserted that it increased the risk of fatal overdose — saying that when someone is trying to avoid arrest for personal drug use, they will often consume alone in a hidden place. When an overdose occurs in such a place, it goes unnoticed, thereby increasing the likelihood of overdose fatality.

Overdose has been a harsh reality in British Columbia for the past eight years.

In 2023, BC set a record of approximately 2,511 overdose deaths.

Just two months into 2024, 177 people had died of overdose in BC.

While those figures are lower than deaths reported for the first two months of 2023 (by approximately 12 percent for January, and 11 percent for February), it is still almost two times the rate recorded in 2016, when the overdose crisis was first announced (CBC News, April 5, 2024).

Recent data suggests fatal overdoses have increased by almost 5 percent since decriminalization.

Arguments about whether those deaths are a result of decriminalization itself, or the sad consequence of illicit fentanyl use, continue on both sides of the political spectrum.

Either way, what is clear is that the overdose catastrophe is ongoing.

When it comes to reducing stigma, decriminalization didn’t alleviate it.

Witnessing open meth and fentanyl use did not generate compassion from the public.

It inspired hostility.

This was certainly the case for the father who was now approaching me, upset. He saw me providing supports to the man smoking meth — giving him a Naloxone kit, some drinking water, and a bandage for an open wound on his arm.

As the father approached, I could see that he also needed support. He was angry and for a moment, directed it at me.

I have learned not to take it personally (my meditation practice helps with this immensely). As the father vented, I just breathed, and listened. After the initial charge dissipated, I offered my name and explained that I coordinate outreach services in the area.

“I understand why you are upset,” I said, genuinely.

These words helped ratchet down the father’s anger.

“My name is Thomas,” he said.

We shook hands.

Thomas told me he had been in favour of soup kitchens and supportive housing. He saw the importance of overdose prevention sites where people receive life saving supervision while using illicit drugs.

“But this…” he said, pointing back toward the man taking another hit from the meth pipe, “this open drug use, right on the street, in view of children…this is going too far. How is this helping the problem?”

I had been skeptical of the open drug use allowance since decriminalization began.

I asked people who use drugs what they thought of it.

“I don’t care if it’s allowed,” one street entrenched man told me. “I won’t shoot dope in the open. What if a child sees me and thinks it’s okay to use?”

“I’d rather the government help me get housing, instead making it easier to get high,” said a woman who lives rough and is wired to meth.

Still, others indicated that they appreciated decriminalization because their lives were already hard enough without having to worry about getting busted for a baggie of dope.

From the beginning I worried that allowing open drug use was going to backfire on the people it was supposedly designed to help.

I sensed a backlash would result, one that might impact the positive gains that had been made such as an increase in understanding and compassion toward people struggling with addiction, wider support for the installation of sharps containers in public places, and greater acceptance for the creation of overdose prevention sites.

Undoubtedly, open use would embolden some to use drugs in irresponsible ways — like blowing meth smoke in proximity to children, or those who leave used syringes on the street.

And then, last April, the BC Nurses Union announced its members reported unsafe conditions in the hospital workplace since decriminalization was enacted.

They cited incidence of weapons, open meth and fentanyl use, drug dealers, and hostile behaviour from people using illicit drugs in hospitals.

A leaked memo from the Northern Health Authority also appeared in April.

It was written to a hospital in Quesnel, BC back in July, 2023.

In it, health care workers were directed to tolerate illicit drug use, drug drop offs, and weapons in the hospital.

Of course this sparked push back and outrage.

In response, the federal government motioned to re-criminalize public drug use.

Under the new provisions, a person can still possess 2.5 grams of substances like fentanyl and methamphetamine for personal use in their home, but public use can result in seizure of drugs and possibly arrest.

Once again, people on the right and left are up in arms, pointing fingers and fighting over ideology while on the street, real human beings keep suffering from an existence of unaddressed childhood trauma, untreated mental illness, poor access to detox and treatment, abhorrent living conditions, homelessness, malnutrition, cellular distress, internal violence, sexual exploitation, and addiction to some of the most lethal and life destroying substances known.

While the allowance of open drug use made the day to day experience of people struggling with addiction “easier” by allowing them to do toxic drugs in public, it did nothing to make their lives truly better.

We still don’t have enough shelter beds; we still don’t have supportive housing; we still have long wait times to get into detox and treatment; we still have a lack of drop in support facilities and overdose prevention sites, and we still have an existencial crisis of unrealized human potential.

Until we adopt a more wrap around and wholistic approach that addresses the overall wellness of a person entrenched in street life and addition — one that includes basics like shelter, nutrition, and mental health support that goes beyond prescribing psychiatric drugs to attenuate problematic symptoms — we’ll continue to treat deeply infected wounds with nothing more than cotton gauze and tape.