Is harm reduction the primary goal, or acceptable only in the service of eliminating drug use? Mike Ashton examines two very different sets of beliefs
Drugs are an evil, and with evil you can’t give way or compromise.’ For Pope Francis, harm reduction in the form of prescribing substitute drugs is just such a compromise: ‘drugs are not defeated with drugs!… Substitutive drugs… are not a sufficient therapy but a veiled way of surrendering to the phenomenon.’ His words derive from a view of drug use as either inherently wrong, or so inevitably and extremely damaging that ‘no use’ is the only justifiable aim.
More temperate variants see harm reduction aims and services as permissible, but only as steps towards stopping drug use altogether. Others elevate harm reduction to an overriding objective which should never be sacrificed to an anti-drugs agenda. Between these poles UK policy has shifted, driven by the threat of HIV from its default anti-drugs base towards the harm-reduction pole.
When in the 1980s harm reduction emerged in Britain, what it was for was clear: to stop the spread of HIV among injectors, and even more so from injectors to the rest of the population. Sometimes reluctantly, its proponents accepted that prioritising this objective meant de-prioritising others, including treatment of addiction and achieving abstinence. The turning point came in 1986 in the report of a committee set up by Scotland’s chief medical officer. Using the new test for HIV, in 1985 an Edinburgh GP discovered that half his injecting patients were infected. Facing this frightening challenge was a committee drawn largely from outside the drugs field, led by Brian McClelland from Edinburgh’s blood transfusion service.
Looking through the eyes of infection control specialists, they relegated to side issues reservations deriving from treatment philosophies focused on abstinence. For them, saving lives was the name of the game. Since ‘Infection with HIV poses a much greater threat to… life… than the misuse of drugs,’ they straightforwardly concluded: ‘On balance, the prevention of spread should take priority over any perceived risk of increased drug misuse.’
What that meant was that injectors who won’t stop must be given clean injecting equipment, and that maintenance prescribing was a way to reduce injecting and maintain contact with injectors, not primarily a step towards detoxification and abstinence. Even enforcement was to be subjugated to the anti-HIV imperative: ‘Police policies in relation to individual drug misusers should be reviewed to ensure so far as possible that they do not prejudice the infection control measures recommended.’
The following year McClelland’s report was cited when the UK’s Conservative government announced pilot needle exchanges to test if they could combat the deadly infection. Also in 1987, harm reduction emerged as a coherent philosophy, not just an emergency response to HIV. It was ‘high time for harm reduction’, argued Russell Newcombe in Druglink magazine. Rather than a ‘deviation’ to be rectified, ‘In many cases, even “dependent” drug use can be reconstrued as just another example of the basic human desire to repeat pleasurable activities.’ Across drug policy, ‘controlled use (rational choice, care and moderation)’ would displace the focus on abstinence.
In 1988 government’s official drug policy advisers echoed McClelland, asserting that ‘The spread of HIV is a greater danger to individual public health than drug misuse.’ Though abstinence remained the ‘ultimate goal’, for the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs, ‘services which aim to minimise HIV risk behaviour by all available means should take precedence in development plans’. They urged that ‘The different goals for drug misusers must not be seen as in competition’, but in fact they were. HIV could only be curbed by accepting drug use rather than primarily trying to stop it.
Hedged about as it was, at first this reversal of priorities from tackling illegal drug use to tackling HIV was not fully embraced by government. But by 1989, on the streets of England a government campaign poster forefronted the risks of sharing needles. Only the small print sought to reduce injecting, miles away from the ‘Heroin screws you up’ campaign of a few years before.
By 2012 policy had definitively reversed back. The UK government’s ‘roadmap’ to recovery-oriented treatment subjugated ‘all our work on combating blood-borne viruses’ to the ‘strategic recovery objective’, arguing that ‘It is self-evident that the best protection against blood borne viruses is full recovery’. For the UK Harm Reduction Alliance and co-signatories, including the UK Recovery Federation, this was not at all self-evident. Their response transformed the government’s Putting full recovery first title into Putting public health first, challenging what they characterised as an ‘ideologically-driven hierarchy’ which places ‘full recovery’ at the top, with ‘any other achievement marked as inferior’.
Attacking the roadmap, the Australian Injecting and Illicit Drug Users League insisted that ‘harm reduction is the goal – not a step along the “road to recovery”,’ a formulation derived from their core belief that ‘all other approaches (eg demand reduction, supply reduction) can have validity only where there is strong evidence that they are appropriate, practical and equitable means of reducing drug-related harm.’
These polarities are endemic in debates about methadone maintenance, seen both as a treatment for dependence and a harm-reducing way to maintain dependence. In 2012 an expert group drawn largely from the UK drugs field attempted to reconcile these objectives. Complaining that ‘the protective benefits [ie harm reduction] have too often become an end in themselves rather than providing a safe platform from which users might progress towards further recovery,’ they were prepared to see recovery pursued even if this ‘potentially more hazardous path’ risked relapse. At the same time, ‘preservation of benefit’ was seen as a reason for continuing treatment. Again the attempt was made to mount horses galloping in different directions – possible at a clinical level, but at a policy level, choices have to be made.
For some, the harm reduction benefits of remaining on methadone are a clinching argument in its favour, and a warning that an evangelistic recovery agenda will cost lives. Others think the risks worth it, arguing that ‘Leaving the protection of methadone maintenance treatment may increase the risk of death. But it might also be the way to a brand new life beyond your wildest dreams, where you find jobs, homes and friends.’ Leaving methadone is a dangerous business, but a proportion of former patients will swim rather than sink, and for some on the banks, the sight of those ‘recovered’ swimmers leaving methadone and addiction behind seems worth the loss of others.
Peacemakers try to gloss over the divides with, ‘We are all in the same game in the end, aren’t we?’, posing harm reduction and abstinence-based recovery as ends of an unbroken continuum of helping the patient, to which all can sign up. But in reality these are different games, their rules and aims deriving from differences in what we value most and how we see drug use: as always bad, or only bad if it causes harm.
This article is based on the Drug and Alcohol Findings Effectiveness Bank hot topic, Harm reduction: what’s it for? Full text with links to documentation at here.
Mike Ashton is editor of Drug and Alcohol Findings, findings.org.uk.








transmission. Meanwhile, the Glasgow City Alcohol and Drug Partnership (ADP) has established a working group to look at opening a facility in that city, along with plans for heroin-assisted treatment.
Children watching England and Wales matches during the group stages of Euro 2016 were exposed to alcohol advertising every 72 seconds, according to research by Alcohol Concern. Pitch-side adverts for tournament sponsor Carlsberg appeared an average of 78 times per game, says the charity, with around 14 per cent of the audience likely to be under 18. ‘Alcohol marketing drives consumption, particularly in under-18s, and sport should be something which inspires active participation and good health, not more drinking,’ said the charity’s campaign manager, Tom Smith.



Traditional thinking has relied heavily on training as a mechanism by which to achieve optimal service delivery, but while training is a necessary component in this complex picture, it is insufficient in itself. Research increasingly indicates major flaws in the ‘train and hope’ approach to knowledge transfer and innovation dissemination. That is, training often fails to deliver the ultimate expectation and goal – ie behaviour change. This is through no fault of the individual worker, as a multitude of factors are at play when attempting to change workers’ behaviours.
A partnership between Blenheim and Club Soda aims to change drinking habits













providing a safe, supported environment, which is inclusive, structured and fair. We offer an holistic programme which addresses the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual wellbeing of each individual. We have a professional, qualified and trained team, with good boundaries and good ethical practice.
This is achieved via voluntary work placements or training courses and allows clients to demonstrate greater responsibility and independence.








expensive testing of the substances in specialised laboratories, and there is simply no budget big enough to carry out the work. A legal logjam awaits. Yet these drugs are not safe: users of synthetic cannabis are 30 times more likely to end up in the back of an ambulance than users of natural cannabis. Mike Power, Guardian, 10 May
MAYORAL PRIORITIES





UK governments agree that above all what they want out of treatment is ‘recovery’. Some of the most marginal, damaged and unconventional of people are to become variously abstinent from illegal drugs and/or free of dependence and (as Scotland’s strategy put it) ‘active and contributing member[s] of society’, an ambition which echoes those of the UK government dating back to the mid-2000s for more drug users to leave treatment, come off benefits, and get back to work.







STREETS AHEAD
discouraging their diversion for illicit purposes,’ says the Home Office. Documents at 

Aspire’s New Beginnings Recovery-Orientated Detoxification Service joined organisations around the UK to raise awareness of depression while removing stigma surrounding the condition.













Have you noticed the world is getting more complicated? It’s not just technology that’s stretching our capabilities but, in the addictions field, it’s the increasing complexity of our clients challenging us on a daily basis. The traditional ‘street’ addiction service was never set up to work with clients with learning disabilities, chronic pain disorders, personality disorders, over 75s – and so many more issues. In fact, these comorbidities are often exclusion criteria for many treatment services but then their substance misuse excludes them from the health services able to deal with their comorbidity. They can get stuck in a loop of rejection with no one prepared to take on their treatment for fear that they lack the necessary skills.
enough confidence in your own approach to be able to adapt it in a person-centred way.
The Third Way
First Szalavitz described her own experiences, experimenting with psychedelics, then becoming addicted to cocaine and heroin.
Johann Hari: ‘Usually when someone tells this publicly, they say “Society tells me what a disgusting wicked person I was – and then I discovered in fact I had a disease.” But part of the movement we’re part of is arguing that actually, there’s a third option, which is that you’re neither evil nor diseased. Can you talk about what the third option is?’
Maia Szalavitz: ‘When I got into recovery, the disease model was the only thing that was presented as the alternative to the sin model. And so I grabbed onto it. But one of the things that always bothered me was, everybody tells me it’s a chronic, progressive disease, and it’s destroying your brain. That makes me think of something like Alzheimer’s – and you can’t get into recovery from Alzheimer’s, sadly. Also it’s the case that research shows that people are more likely to get into recovery the older they get. So if it was a chronic, progressive disease, that should be the opposite. If you look at gambling addiction, and you look at sex addiction, there’s no chemical involved. There is no chemical changing your brain, and causing you to behave this way.
And if this can happen with no chemical, then the brain damage that people are talking about with chemical addiction must not be necessary to addiction happening. And so I began to realise that – and this is not original to me; the scientists have been saying this forever – that addiction’s a learning disorder. It’s defined as compulsive behaviour that occurs, despite negative consequences.
So that’s also what happens in these other processes. And it also means that when you are trying to kick addiction, it’s more like trying to get over the worst break up of your life than it is like having a serious disease – although in some instances, you can certainly have severe physical withdrawals and those kinds of things.
But those things aren’t the essence of a problem. I hear so many people talking about opioid addiction these days, and everybody’s like, “Oh well, they just are avoiding withdrawal – you just can’t bear withdrawal, it’s the worst thing ever.” I went through it like six times. It does suck. But it is not bad, like if anybody’s ever had any kind of serious illness. It is not anything compared to some of those things.
And it also isn’t the problem. Because every time I stopped using long enough to lose my physical dependence, I was fine for a couple of weeks – and it wasn’t that I was sick that made me want to get high. I wanted to get high, because I thought, “Oh, I can just do this on weekends now.” So it was the psychology that was driving the problem, and not the physiology.’
Unbroken Brain by Maia Szalavitz, published 13 October, St Martin’s Press.
Chasing the Scream by Johann Hari, published January 2016, Bloomsbury.