Harm Reduction Without Decriminalization: A Well-Intentioned Farce

 

“Show me where I supported decriminalization. I am for harm reduction.”

This is the kind of flowery language people use to explain away disasters.

British Columbia has become a living case study in the failure of good intentions. For years, harm reduction has been the sacred cow of drug policy — a politically fashionable mantra that promises compassion, evidence, and humanity. Safe injection sites. Needle exchanges. Free naloxone kits. Drug testing strips. All publicly funded, all aimed at reducing the harms associated with drug use without necessarily reducing drug use itself.

Despite this elaborate harm reduction infrastructure, BC is the epicentre of one of the deadliest drug crises in North America.

Let’s remember the timeline. Harm reduction programs were well established long before January 31, 2023, when BC launched its controversial pilot program to decriminalize possession of small amounts of certain hard drugs. The overdose crisis was declared a public health emergency in 2016 — **a decade after harm reduction had already become entrenched** in provincial policy. Between 2010 and 2015, roughly 2,000 people died from overdoses. Since the emergency declaration, that number has exploded to over 16,000.

If harm reduction was working, why was there an emergency in the first place? Why did the province feel compelled to shift toward decriminalization if the existing approach was effective?

Supporters of harm reduction often speak as if compassion alone can outsmart a poisoned drug supply. They argue that treating drug use as a health issue rather than a criminal one will reduce stigma and save lives. That’s the theory. But in practice, harm reduction in BC has functioned less like a ladder out of addiction and more like a soft cushion at the bottom of a cliff — it doesn’t stop the fall, it just makes the landing less messy for society to manage.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: harm reduction and decriminalization are two sides of the same policy coin. You can’t champion the former while disavowing the latter. Safe injection sites, naloxone distribution, and drug-checking programs exist to facilitate ongoing drug use, not end it. Their entire logic depends on accepting that people will continue to use hard drugs — openly, repeatedly, and often fatally.

Meanwhile, taxpayers are squeezed to fund services that make drug consumption “safer,” even as communities grapple with rising public disorder, overdoses in parks and libraries, and a generation of young people exposed to normalized hard drug use.

Some argue that letting users face the full, unsoftened consequences of their choices would deter others. It’s a brutal suggestion — but the grim reality is that the deaths are already happening, despite billions spent trying to cushion the impact.

BC’s overdose crisis is not merely a tragedy; it’s a **policy contradiction**. The province declared an emergency because harm reduction failed to stem the tide. It then doubled down with decriminalization, hoping that removing the last legal barriers would finally fix what softer measures could not.

Twenty years into this grand experiment and billions of dollars later, the results are in plain sight: more deaths, more despair, and more people clinging to slogans instead of confronting hard truths.

Harm reduction, without the courage to either enforce or fundamentally reform, has become a farce — a moral shield politicians and advocates wield to avoid admitting that the system isn’t working. BC doesn’t need more euphemisms. It needs honesty, coherence, and the political will to choose a direction and own its consequences. 

On October 3, 2025, during a recent interview (circulated in clips and news coverage), British Columbia Premier David Eby explicitly admitted that the province's drug decriminalization pilot—launched in January 2023—was a misstep. In a direct quote from the interview, Eby stated: "I was wrong."