By now the statistics are familiar: Fentanyl is killing Americans at an unprecedented rate—around 73,000 annually.
For those aged 18 to 45, it is the leading cause of death.
And it’s everywhere—tainting counterfeit pills, poisoning children and adults, addicts and first-time users, overwhelming any potential response. As a deluge of pills and powder flows across the southern border, authorities regularly seize enough fentanyl to kill everyone on earth, several times over.
Into this carnage, a windfall.
This money will now largely go to abating illicit fentanyl—the third wave in an opioid crisis that began with prescription pain medication in the 1990s.
But some wonder if another obvious lesson from the fight against Big Tobacco—in which stigmatization, graphic warnings about the dangers of cigarettes, and enforcement led to a radical decrease in smoking—is missing from the state’s approach to the fentanyl crisis.
“In general, there is a strange contradiction between [California] Public Health trying hard to stigmatize tobacco smoking while destigmatizing fentanyl use,” Keith Humphreys, professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford University, told The Epoch Times.
By now, Humphreys said, the lessons from Big Tobacco are clear.
“Disapproving of smoking has been a life-saving thing. And we should not be afraid to say to people that using fentanyl is incredibly dangerous and you shouldn’t do it.”
Harm Reduction Movement
Harm reduction is a social justice movement that seeks to reduce drug harms without judging, punishing, or even interfering in drug use. It is an explicit pendulum swing away from the War on Drugs of past decades, which state leaders continue to criticize as a “failed” approach.Where people tend to disagree is whether hard drugs should be decriminalized and destigmatized, whether those using and selling them should be penalized when they break the law—and especially, whether treatment can be coerced or, as many harm reduction advocates insist, can only happen when and if the person who uses drugs decides they are ready.
“Twelve percent of people are likely to be dead from their addiction within 12 months of getting the Narcan,” he said.
There are no photos of children who died from a single dose, no acknowledgement of the people suffering what amounts to a living death on the streets, no testimony from people who have recovered from their addiction.
“I don’t see one ad in here that says anything about treatment,” noted Gina McDonald, co-founder of Mothers against Drug Addiction and Deaths (MADAAD), a San Francisco-based nonprofit critical of California’s permissive approach to fentanyl.
“I eradicated my risk of overdose by stopping doing drugs—it’s the only foolproof way to prevent overdose. You would think that would be in at least one ad,” said McDonald, a former addict.
Nationally, only Illinois has a higher rate of untreated substance use disorder than California.
McDonald co-founded MADAAD with other mothers who have lost children to the streets—mothers with children currently addicted to fentanyl in places like the Tenderloin and Skid Row.
McDonald, like most everyone, wants to see Narcan everywhere—in every school and workplace and store—and knows what the shame of addiction feels like.
“I’m not saying we need to stigmatize drug users,” she said.
“But how many times are people going to be Narcan-ed and go back to die another day? It’s usually what happens,” she said. “I don’t know too many people who’ve been Narcan-ed on the street and went into treatment after being resurrected. ... Narcan isn’t dealing with any root cause of why people are using drugs.”
An Empathetic Conversation
Robert Marbut, the former executive director of the U.S. Interagency on Homelessness and producer of the forthcoming documentary, “Fentanyl: Death Incorporated,” says the government is under reacting to an existential and continually evolving threat.“We absolutely have to get into drug education and prevention at a level that we did with cigarettes,” he told The Epoch Times, pointing to the nearly 75-percent reduction in smoking since 1965, when nearly half of Americans smoked; now around 12 percent do.
“[Those campaigns] said cigarette smoking is not cool—it’s dirty, it’s ugly, it’s awful. If you go look at the PSAs, they didn’t go into a sort of kinder, gentler thing. It was hard. It was direct—it was: ‘This is nasty. It’s horrible.’ And governments backed it up with real fines,” Marbut said.
“The state strongly believes—and we are very much in line with them—that our job is to engage in empathetic conversation and ultimately reduce harm,” he told the industry publication.
Mixed Messages
But when does de-stigmatization become de facto normalization of extremely addictive drug use?While the state’s new fentanyl awareness campaign omits the billboards’ encouragements to “change it up” and “try smoking and snorting instead” of injecting, or “do it with friends,” it shares a tone and aesthetic lineage with these advertisements.
This is a stark contrast from the foreboding tenor and embrace of abstinence in its ongoing anti-tobacco campaign.
In the latter, a spot that takes inspiration from contemporary horror films, a voiceover narration tells you, “In Big Tobacco’s fantasy land, the deadliest industry is your friend.” Vaping won’t lead to smoking, it says, “if you ignore the research that says otherwise.”
Its other anti-tobacco ads are more direct, with slogans like, “Wake up,” and “Nicotine = Brain Poison.”
California acknowledges it has a problem getting minorities to fully accept its enthusiasm for a harm reduction approach to hard drugs, which the fentanyl awareness ads are meant to correct for.
“Any creative and communications approach must meet people where they are at and reflect a nuanced understanding of their lives and cultural realities,” Robin Christensen, head of substance and addiction prevention at the California Department of Public Health, said in a statement last year of the fentanyl awareness campaign, which was designed for “Latine, Black/African and Asian Pacific Islander” audiences.
The “culturally relevant” messaging, she suggested, is meant to increase receptivity to harm reduction strategies among these populations.
Duncan Channon declined to comment about the fentanyl awareness and anti-tobacco campaigns designed for the Department of Public Health. Since 2014, California has paid the boutique advertising agency $876 million for anti-tobacco messaging, as well as $76 million for COVID-19 vaccine public service announcements, and $40 million for opioid awareness campaigns, according to records reviewed by The Epoch Times.
In an email, the department said it had been billed $446.5 million during this time by the agency, its subcontractors, and associated vendors for media and production services related to anti-tobacco work. It said 83 percent was spent on media placement and 17 percent on “production, billable hours and other services,” and 95 percent of it was funded by tobacco taxes.
A Double Standard?
The same harm reduction principles that dominate drug policy in California are vilified in relation to tobacco use.“They’ve done something that is truly outrageous,” Dr. Robert Jackler, a professor emeritus of otolaryngology, told the blog about Big Tobacco’s infiltration into continuing medical education courses. One, titled, “Harm Reduction from Tobacco,” taught that the health goal of all smokers should be “smoke-free, not tobacco/nicotine abstinent.”
“Only purveyors of tobacco products would assert that sustaining a nicotine addiction should be the primary goal in optimizing health—addiction is not wellness,” Jackler said.
In the absence of an obvious villain like Big Tobacco, the same logic—that “addiction is not wellness”—does not seem to apply to hard drug use.
The dissonance is further illustrated in West Coast cities, where Marbut points out you can get ticketed for smoking a cigarette within a few yards of an office building, while the government subsidizes fentanyl use through the distribution of paraphernalia.
“Call it what it is—it’s promotion of fentanyl use when you provide all the supporting materials that are way more expensive than the active ingredient,” he said, referring to government-funded harm reduction programs that distribute syringes, foil, and pipes to addicts on the street.
“Why in the world would we use opioid settlement money that’s supposed to correct the mistakes of the past to fund the mistakes of the future? We’re going to use [that] money to keep consumption going?” he asks.
“You can’t put lipstick on this pig.”
The Department of Public Health did not respond to specific questions about its different approaches to tobacco and opioid messaging. In an emailed statement, the department said its public education campaigns are designed using “research-driven, multi-layered approaches” to address “unique and complex” issues like tobacco use and opioid overdose.
“While our goals with each effort may vary, we universally engage community-based organizations, health care providers and other partners to provide education, resources and prevention information that helps empower Californians to make informed decisions,” the department said.
“This in turn helps improve awareness, reduce stigma, and prevent harm, injuries and deaths—and provides a gateway to more detailed information and resources provided by the state and its partners.”
‘The Last Mile’
Sam Chapman has spent years researching how to stop fentanyl from killing American children.His son, Sammy, was fatally poisoned after a dealer who’d found him on SnapChat delivered the drug to him at home, “like a pizza,” when his parents were sleeping.
He has put up his own awareness campaigns, including billboards with images of his son. Regarding the state’s approach, he said, “levity is hardly the answer.”
But even with great messaging, there are limits to education and awareness.
“This thing is so addictive—it’s not about education, it’s about stopping the delivery mechanisms. It’s about taking social media out of the equation. The last mile.”
Social media platforms help dealers and traffickers reach young customers, and a new wave of bills is chipping away at the issue.
But Chapman also thinks opioid settlement money—of which there is plenty, he said, sitting collecting interest—should be used to staunch the flow of fentanyl.
Bill Bodner, former special agent in charge of the Los Angeles Field Division for the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) notes street drugs are an evolving threat that change according to the whims and wiles of the cartels who produce them.
“People get violently angry with me when I say this—but supply reduction is actually the most statistically supported form of harm reduction there is,” he said, pointing to CDC data showing harms from prescription opioids increasing or decreasing with availability.
“Supply reduction is harm reduction when you’re talking about all that mountain of synthetic drugs.”
Authorities can seize drugs, but prosecution is necessary to stop the cycle, he said, and California’s Prop. 47 has reduced or eliminated penalties for many drug-related crimes.
Bodner gives the example of a case in which a drug dealer sold drugs that caused seven overdoses and three deaths over a single weekend. What happens when the dealer is released, he asks. “More deaths. We have to decide as a society, are we OK with that?”
A Perfect Storm
In California and in the United States, data show the rate of increase in drug overdose deaths finally beginning to subside. Meanwhile, those who work with addicts on the streets in San Francisco say a combination of interdiction and a weakened fentanyl supply is having a remarkable effect.“We’ve been seeing a big drop in potency here, and the cost of a gram on the street right now is $80 as compared to $5 to $10 last year at this time,” McDonald said, explaining the expensive, degraded high is pushing more people to seek treatment.
It could also be increased pressures on China’s precursor market, the crackdown on cartel trafficking, or any number of factors impacting availability and quality of supply. McDonald cares less why it’s happening, and more what can be done before it shifts again.
“All I know is, in California we are completely unprepared for the perfect opportunity that has come from all of that to move people into treatment. There are no beds.
“We get calls all the time saying, ‘can you help my kid?’” she said.
Like state programs, counties and cities in California have largely prioritized harm reduction projects with the first arrival of opioid settlement money. A few, including Los Angeles, have allocated funds for treatment infrastructure.
All municipalities were required to submit updated expenditure reports for this fiscal year at the end of September, which the Department of Health Care Services has said it will eventually make public.
Prop. 36 would increase penalties for fentanyl and give those caught with the drug a choice between treatment and prison.
“That would be a start,” Chapman said. “Why not direct opioid settlement funds to those beds?
“That’s restorative justice.”