Enjoy! On “Not Obeying the Care”

1. Alcohol is Fun and You Can Still Be Responsible and Have Fun with It

With legal drugs (i.e., “controlled substances”) we understand that recreational, pleasure-inducing use is totally fine. In fact, such use for the sole sake of enjoying the feelings or affects induced by the drug is encouraged—not only by legal drug-producers and -pushers like the companies that craft, advertise, sell, or otherwise profit from people taking those drugs, but also by various drug-user cultures that are normalized within our society.

Thus, for example, all kinds of alcohol are marketed to all kinds of groups and various cultures arise in relation to various brands. If someone wants alcohol that comes from grain malt mash, or grapes, or distilled spirits, that says something about who they aspire to be. Working men drink cheap, patriotic beer. Wine moms drink wine. Hipsters drink IPAs. Rich men and boss women drink Scotch. People who hunt ducks drink Bourbon. I’m sure you can add other drug-use cultures to this list.

All of this occurs even though we are aware that these drugs can be dangerous and harmful. This is why they are controlled substances. Bars are supervised consumption sites for alcohol and they are widely available and easily accessible; businesses are required to ensure that they do not sell alcohol to those who are below the legal drinking age; people are legally forbidden from drunk-driving; alcohol products not intended for consumption aren’t sold alongside of Sherry, and so on.

However, despite these various controls, harms still occur. Yet this does not lead to full criminalization or a total ban on the pleasurable use of these substances—such things have been tried in the past (the USA tried this with alcohol from 1920 to 1933), but these efforts always end disastrously and the harms caused by criminalization are vastly greater than the harms that persist when harm reduction is applied to alcohol and other substances and their use is both encouraged and regulated (countries like Switzerland and Portugal, as well as various studies done in Canada, Australia, the US, Germany, France, and a host of other countries demonstrate that this conclusion basically applies to all controlled substances that people also use recreationally). However, alcohol is the most widely available and taken-for-granted controlled substance. Therefore, because drinking alcohol can be a fun but not risk-free activity, the saying “enjoy responsibly” is ubiquitous in the drug-user culture associated with alcohol.

Observe: Nobody is saying that you shouldn’t drink for fun. They’re just saying that, when you do drink, you should try to do that in ways that don’t hurt yourself or others. Importantly, we’ve structured our society in such a way so as to institutionalize and legalize safer forms of controlled substance use (for this substance).

Read more: Enjoy! On “Not Obeying the Care”

Drug users whose drug of choice is alcohol have a good deal of fun with this responsibility-oriented sloganeering. The Chicago-based company Malört plays with the observation that the bitters they produce actually taste, well, really fucking bitter and really fucking gross and so they created the following ad:

In fact, the whole injunction to drink “responsibly” is an easy target for all kinds of jokes (especially after you’ve had a drink or two!). Here are a few examples:

And this one makes me lol:

There is also a brand of beer “devised by [a] wacky entrepreneur” (according to the Daily Mail) that allows you to drink as much as you want while still drinking ResponsiblyTM:

You get the idea: (a) people drink for fun; (b) they are supported with this via harm reduction methods that have been tried and found to be far superior to criminalization; (c) and people who drink often laugh at the discourse that urges “responsible use” because, hey, sometimes people just want to get fucked-up; (d) and, hey, it’s okay to laugh at other people’s notions of “responsibility” (especially given the ways in which neoliberalism uses individual “responsibilization” as a way of depoliticizing our understanding of our context and as a club to bludgeon the oppressed); (e) and, hey, nobody is being treated like a shit-stain on the community just because they joke about how “drinking responsibly” means using a coaster and not spilling their drink; (f) and, hey, having kids is hard fucking work and if you want to get together with other moms and cry-laugh about how the only thing that sustains you is alcohol while sipping a glass of White Zinfandel, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom and you can totally do that.

2. Taking Medication is a Less Fun Way to Do Drugs but Sometimes Meds Really Help

In light of this, it’s interesting to observe how well-intentioned advocates of harm reduction, decriminalization, and care for people who purchase, possess, or use controlled substances in ways that have been criminalized, don’t talk too much about how using these drugs can also be a really fun experience (I include myself in this critical observation and what I say here relates to what I wrote in my recent post, What Do We Talk About When We Talk About “Addiction”?, so I won’t repeat here what I said there). This is because of the ways in which people whose possession or consumption of drugs has been criminalized are frequently portrayed as irresponsible, immoral, vice-ridden, lazy, ne’er-do-wells. Consequently, when talking about drugs, these advocates (again, myself included) tend to talk about drugs as medications.

For many people who have been forcibly impoverished, abandoned, oppressed, and pushed-out, access to healthcare simply does not exist in the same ways that it does for upper-middleclass members of dominant populations. It’s not hard for university students to get Adderall (which, as Carl Hart shows, is both chemically and experientially all-but-completely indistinguishable from crystal methamphetamine). It’s not hard for rich families to get Ritalin for their kids with ADHD. When you have money, it’s not hard to find doctors who take your pain seriously, who aren’t overly concerned about what you do with your pills (heck, you probably went to school with a number of other folks who became doctors and have them in your peer group), and who are willing to put up with you during appointments when you are ill-tempered, grumpy, “hangry,” or just acting like a White Man in PublicTM.

It also didn’t used to be hard for anyone to get opioids. Thanks to Purdue Pharma, the Sackler family, and tens of thousands of family doctors, a lot of low income folks, blue collar workers, and folks with various forms of temporary or chronic pain, could access opioids via their doctor or the Emergency Department at the local hospital. But the narrative shifted about opioids once it became clear that Oxycontin (remember Oxy80s? Heaven in a pill!) was very addictive and also rather more dangerous when it came to overdosing (Oxys, like the host of opioids that came before and after them, were first marketed as a low-risk, non-addictive alternative to other pain medications). So the regulators get more heavily involved and started threatening the doctors. The Sacklers were also dragged before the courts but they mostly got away with it and still have billions of dollars while amassing billions more—much of which comes from other companies they own outside of the USA selling both opioids and the drugs that are used to treat opioid addictions (and guess who holds the patent for Naloxone? Richard Sackler!).

Unfortunately (but not surprisingly, recalling that shit never flows upstream), going after doctors for “over-prescribing” just ended up producing a whole bunch of people who were physically and mentally reliant on opioids, often with chronic pain (and a higher sensitivity to pain due to regular opioid use—which was the drug-use schedule prescribed to them by their doctors) who could no longer access safe, pharmacy-grade medications. The very same doctors who created those chemical dependencies suddenly stopped providing the drugs.[1] As a result, people have needed to find alternative ways to medicate their pain, to address their withdrawal symptoms, and to try to and continue with wellness plans that, for many people, had worked just fine for years.

Knowing this, when people speak about “drug addicts,” or “people who use drugs,” or “substance abusers,” or “people who misuse substances,” advocates such as myself have been more inclined to replace all references to “drugs” and “substances” with the language of “meds” or “medications.” Hence, when it comes to the harms we associate with those drugs—like the mass number of deaths we associate with fentanyl and the so-called “opioid crisis”—comes down to having a safe supply—i.e., getting a guaranteed dosage of a guaranteed chemical cocktail from a reliable source (like a pharmacy) without any impurities mixed-in. Of course, a safe supply is what occurs when decriminalization occurs.

3. But Drugs Can Also Be Really Fun and That’s Great Too

Now, while I support this discourse, frequently employ it, and believe that it is an effective way to highlight biases that hide in plain sight based upon what we do and do not take for granted about different groups of people, I think it’s also important to emphasize that meds like opioids and other controlled substances can also be used recreationally and this is also totally fine! Sometimes the discourse of meds and its expansion into the domain of “illicit substance use” can end up being a form of respectability politics. Respectability politics, as Wikipedia handily summarizes it:

is a political strategy wherein members of a marginalized community will consciously abandon or punish controversial aspects of their cultural-political identity as a method of assimilating, achieving social mobility, and gaining the respect of the majority culture.

In this instance, the issue with respectability politics isn’t that it works to restore an inherent dignity and respect to certain drug users—that’s all well and good; rather, the issue is that this restorative work is done at the expense of other drug users, and is achieved by assimilating to oppressive cultural notions about what we are and are not allowed to do for fun, what the law is or is not allowed to tell us to do, and what it means to be responsible within a context where the notion of individual responsibility is commonly used as a tool for enforcing oppression. In fact, the picture below, while amusing (which is great—let’s be amused as we work through hard things, homies!), is also a very real presentation of one form of responsibility that applies to many people:

I was thinking about the joy of drugs and how advocates (like me) who talk about “meds” often inadvertently reinforce stigmas related to status quo values when I encountered the following piece of graffiti in a local stairwell (fetty = fentanyl):

Funny, right? But it also should make the passerby stop and wonder: “Hey, wait a minute, why do we take that stance with some substances that can be enjoyable-but-potentially-harmful but not others? Why do we draw the lines where we do? We do we take this slogan for granted when it comes to alcohol but not fentanyl?”

Well, large numbers of people are dying because they have accessed a toxic supply of fentanyl. As I have already argued here and elsewhere, this is because their access to this substance has been criminalized. However, the primary group of people who are fatally harmed by fetty-use are the fetty-users themselves. But, if we look again at alcohol-users, we cannot make the same argument. Not only are ~55% of fatal car accidents in Canada caused by impaired driving (with alcohol being the leading cause of impairment and recalling that the drunk driver is more likely to survive than others involved in the crash), but a 2021 report from Corrections Canada demonstrates that, of all drugs that people use, alcohol is the one that is most likely to be involved when violent crimes occur:

One could argue that the ubiquity of alcohol causes it to be over-represented here but: (a) we know that the harms it causes are less now that it is legal than when it was illegal; and (b) we don’t have to worry about something similar happening with opioids since a safe supply of fetty isn’t going to make you want to beat your spouse, crash your car into a family of four, or fight that annoying dude at the bar—it’s just gonna make you have one the best naps you’ve ever had in your life.[2]

Fetty, then, like a host of other drugs, is something that we should not stigmatize if it is used recreationally for the euphoria, relaxation, and sense of peace and well-being it offers (I mean, who doesn’t want to feel euphoric, relaxed, peaceful, and well?). However, because of the risks currently associated with its use (again, which are largely but not exclusively related to criminalization), the message to “enjoy responsibly” is an important one. By all means, enjoy the drug, but let’s try to be careful with it so that we do not harm ourselves or end up doing things we might regret because of how much we enjoy it (i.e., “do the drugs, don’t let the drugs do you”).

4. Unfortunately, It’s Hard to Enjoy Drugs When the Police Are Trying to Kill You for Doing Them

The problem, which should be apparent by now, is that criminalization, stigmatization, vilification, greed, cruelty, and the smug self-righteousness of those who are greedy and cruel, make it difficult for people to enjoy a lot of drugs responsibly. John Hardwick gets to the truth of this when he urges people not to do drugs because “if you do drugs you’ll go to prison, and drugs are really expensive in prison.”

In fact, we are currently witnessing a major assault upon people who enjoy drugs as supervised consumption sites across the province are being shut down and municipalities are shifting from talking about funding harm-reduction-based hubs to funding abstinence-based hubs (with many social services merrily going along with this in order to continue to lionize the funding). Due to this matter, and concerns about “open-air substance use,” massive increases to police budgets are being justified even though this means cutting other services to oppressed folx.

Thus, at the same time as safe, indoor spaces are being defunded and essentially banned via absurd regulatory strategies, the roaming gangs of cops in London (increasing from 2-4 officers to 6-8 officers with an embedded social worker from CMHATV) are becoming a much more regular presence on the street. This is a part of the law enforcement crackdown on “open air substance use.” Mostly, based on reports I have received from those who have nowhere safe to go in order to receive shelter, housing, and care, it sounds like the cops are telling people to “move along,” taking away their drugs, looking for reasons to detain them, and generally terrorizing them. The despair on the street right now is palpable.

What’s remarkable is that all of this is being justified with the language of care. To be clear, it’s not remarkable that this language is being used—justifying oppression by calling it care has been around for ages (from White Saviours, to White Benevolence, to White Feminism, to White Social Working… wait, it’s almost as if there is a racialized and racializing element to oppression in our context…), and this tactic is alive and well today. What’s remarkable is that it still has any traction. People are still falling for this shit? That’s wild, because the ideology of care being administered by state-based violence workers leads to some truly outrageous and utterly laughable statements. For example, when asserting that increased policing is the solution to public drug use in our community, the chief of the local force had the following exchange with a journalist:

What a line! If you do not do as the police command you to do, you are “not obeying the care” and deserve to be punished with whatever amount of force the police deem necessary (I think even the chief, himself, realized the absurdity of his line which is why he kind of stuttered when he said it—he dove too deep into his own ideology and accidentally revealed how ridiculous it is)!

Thus, we can now add this line to a trifecta of fucking stupid things the police say when they brutalize community members:

And:

And then we can imagine the following:

That said, it’s also worth noting that we, as a community, feel compelled to do things like address “open-air substance use.” Why does it feel like “common sense” to all be talking about this? Why aren’t we looking at creating roaming gangs of cops and social workers to address “off-script Adderall-use at Western University,” or “cocaine-use in bars,” or “bowls full of every kind of drug imaginable at house parties in Old North”? If the police focused on any one of those areas, let alone all three, I’m absolutely certain they would bring in far greater amounts (both by weight and by dollar value) of drugs and I’m sure they would bring in higher level dealers. But the issue here really isn’t illicit drug use. It’s about helping the hoarders of (stolen) land and wealth move into neighbourhoods they deliberately impoverished so that those neighbourhoods can be gentrified, the already-impoverished folks can be forced to go elsewhere (“OBEY THE CARE!”), paying customers can move in and feel at home, and rich pricks can get a whole lot richer.

Therefore, when “care” looks like you getting your teeth kicked in by cops behind a dumpster because you were moving too slow while packing your things because you are in pain from withdrawing from meds you used to get from your doctor… when “care” looks like having to spend the weekend in cells and not being able to notify work and losing your job and then losing your housing because you couldn’t make rent, and then losing your kids because you lost your housing… when “care” looks like the outreach worker using their personal relationship with you as a form of “soft power” that enforces private property bylaws and moves you along (while the “hard power” of the police lingers in the background)… when “care” looks like not being able to receive medication for pain when you go into hospital with a spine infection that threatens your life, even though you have a considerable amount of pain but you’ve been flagged as a “pill chaser” and so you have to white-knuckle through the pain or self-discharge against the doctor’s orders… when “care” looks like being forced to go to places that are more and more removed from the general public and which afford a vulnerable person less and less safety and put you at greater risk for dying of an overdose from a toxic drug supply or being assaulted by a property owner who doesn’t want you in the woods by their house (homeless folks are assaulted by housed folks far more frequently than housed folks are assaulted by homeless folks)… well, it’s no wonder that graffiti like this is everywhere you look downtown:

I expect to see people saying more things about CMHA now that they’re part of foot patrol (CMHA already exploited the Black Lives Matter movement to launch their other police-CMHA collaborations and increase their funding—as a result, they currently have 15 executives on the Sunshine List [i.e., 15 executives earning more than $100K of public sector funding dollars]—but their presence on the street has been exceedingly minimal so they don’t get mentioned much by wall-writers) but the main thing one sees over and over, given that the primary organization that has been doing Bylaw Enforcement work for the City is called “London CARES” is the statement: “London Doesn’t Care.” This is just one playful variation on that theme:

Not surprisingly, when the carceral state and the discourse of health and care blur into a single entity (a process that has gone hand-in-hand with the secularization of so-called Western nations), people can respond by having a laugh at the norms that brand them as deviant, the policies and regulations that exclude them, and the laws that kill them. Instead of taking on shame or guilt for being branded as deviant or as a failure, one can embrace that identity, play with it, and be proud of it. Just like alcohol-users can laugh at the idea of “enjoying responsibly,” so also other-drug-users can celebrate their use.

This happens all the time in pop culture (Car Seat Headrest sings, “Drugs are better with friends are better with drugs” and it’s very easy to sing along!), and everyone loves a good-hearted outlaw (or even just a badass, “I did it my way” motherfucker) and, yes, there really is jouissance to be found in doing what some ding-dong authority figure tells you not to do—especially when all that ding-dong authority figure really CARES about is making the poor fuck-off so that the rich can get more rich.

So, look, if this is care then, hey, I’m not obeying the care and I’m having the best time doing that.

5. Taking Drugs from Homeless People is Soul Murder—So Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em!

In light of the above, I find myself returning yet again to Henrik Ibsen’s observation that depriving another person of the ability to experience joy in life is “soul murder.” I think soul murder is a term that captures what happens when people with money and power force other people into a joyless existence, defined by serial abandonment, unrelenting pain, and total immiseration, and culminating in premature, preventable, grinding, and altogether shitty deaths. In Toronto, the average age of death for homeless men is 50—for homeless women the average age of death is 36. This isn’t just soul murder, it’s soul genocide.

It seems, when it comes to forcibly impoverished folx, three things are held to be true. First, they don’t own enough goods to be good people (Bylaw Enforcement officers make sure of this by constantly going around to people’s tents when they’re not home and throwing all their belongings into the trash—a regular, everyday, normalized and accepted form of robbing the poor to satisfy the rich). Second, they are not permitted to be in shared public spaces (you have to be a paying customer or, if you’re on the sidewalk, you have to be at least a potentially paying customer for the businesses that are nearby and you should never be present in such a way that you cause the slightest discomfort to other potential paying customers which, alas, simply being poor in public does). Third, the forcibly impoverished are absolutely forbidden to have any kind of fun at all. So they are vilified, pushed out of everywhere, told that this is all their fault, and not permitted to have any kind of fun or spend their tiny bit of money on anything but the bare necessities (which, it turns out, the tiny bit of money they receive from social assistance doesn’t cover adequately), and if they dare to enjoy themselves, engage in recreational activities, have fun, spend a weekend getting high in a hotel room with a locked door, a shower, and clean bedding, they are branded as the absolute worst kind of sinner “living a high risk lifestyle” and ultimately deserving the premature, preventable, grinding, and shitty death that comes for them. That’s soul murder, too, and it culminates in literal, physical, bodily death.

In One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This, Omar El Akkad writes: “Forget pity. Forget the dead if you must, but at least fight against the theft of your soul.” He’s writing as an Egyptian-Canadian reckoning with the ongoing genocide in Palestine but I think his words also apply to the class war that is raging and escalating all around us everyday, across the globe and in the smallest local communities.

Getting high on fetty is a risky activity these days. It might kill you. But if enjoying that high and the pleasure it gives you is the only thing that is stopping the rich from stealing your soul—after they have already stolen your home and your land and your labour and your health and your children and your sense of belonging—then enjoy! And if you want to live, then try to enjoy “responsibly.” Try not to use alone. If possible, have Narcan and a sitter. If it’s available, use sterilized gear. Remember that smoking is a lot less risky than shooting (and, given all the deaths we’ve seen in the last few years, a lot of people have stopped shooting and only smoke now). And, with those things in mind, have the best time ever! You fucking deserve it.


[1] Although, N.B., as of 2023, there were still approximately 125,000,000 active opioid prescriptions dispensed in the USA. Similarly, in 2022 approximately 1 in 8 Canadians received an opioid script at some point. This highlights two important elements: (1) the class factor I have been addressing and the ease at which those who hoard (stolen) wealth are able to access these meds via the legally-mandated channels; and (2) the fact that only 10-20% of people who use any drug end up getting “addicted” (so way more people are taking opioids all the time and never getting “addicted” or ending up using them long-term).

[2] The legalization of cannabis is a good parallel here. Not that long ago, the government and the police were promoting the notion of “reefer madness” and, as they’ve done with innumerable other substances, arguing that smoking pot makes you sexually violent, monstrous, out-of-control, and so on (the FBI built itself up from a nothing organization into what it is today based on this). Of course, it’s all nonsense and the legalization of cannabis has not resulted in any spikes in violence or crime—in fact, as with the end of prohibition, it has created some real losses for organized crime.

WHAT DO WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT “ADDICTION”?

  1. People who experience oppression, marginalization, criminalization, vulnerabilization, and vilification, are frequently discussed by the bureaucrats who are paid to manage them, the researchers who are paid to study them, and the social services who are funded to better them.
  2. All of these people—the bureaucrats, researchers, and social service workers—operate under the more-or-less sincere belief that they approach the populations they manage, the cases they study, and the clients they support, in a caring manner.
  3. Because of this, the people doing the talking are always coming up with new ways to talk about people that appear to be more sensitive or woke or humanizing, and less judgemental or derogatory. However, because the oppression, marginalization, criminalization, vulnerabilization, and vilification all continue despite the deployment of new labels, stigmas and biases then attach themselves to new seemingly-more-value-neutral terms. This cycle creates an ever-expanding market for new terms.
  4. Folks like Peter Conrad and Joseph Schneider have tracked some of this in their explorations of how hegemonic social discourses moved from speaking about deviance to speaking in medical terms in the mid-to-late twentieth century. Things previously considered badness under the Christian morality that dominated Canadian society were rebranded as sickness in the post-Christian secular state. Thus, the immoral, vice-ridden sinner was rebranded as the “alcoholic” and the same became true of the “drug addict.”
  5. The transition from the language of sin and vice to the language of addiction resonated a great deal with kind-hearted people who were trying to emphasize the human dignity and worth of the people they cared for and about. Instead of being a value judgment about a person’s character, addiction became a medical condition requiring the same kind of sensitive care and treatment as other medical conditions.
  6. However, the medicalization of deviance was, simultaneously, the medicalization of social control. The transition from Christianity to secularism (ever-always an incomplete transition and one that may yet prove to be a temporary blip in Western statecraft) created a crisis for state power. Previously, Christian morality provided the moral underpinnings required to justify the use of force on the bodies of those who were considered problematical to the trajectory of the racial-capitalist state. The police, and other violence workers of the state, were justified in using force upon deviant bodies. After Christendom, the discursive apparatus of health replaced that of Christianity to justify forcing those considered deviant (now sick or ill or addicted) to do what they did not want to do, to go where they did not want to go, and to be where they did not want to be.
  7. What vanishes from the now hegemonic dispositif of health is any kind of serious analysis of or engagement with oppression. Hence, also, its model of care lacks any truly liberatory praxis. I don’t want to overstate this—there is, of course, a continual process of subversion, co-optation, and hybridity (as per Homi Bhabha), taking place here. Nonetheless, it remains true that healthcare replaced Christianity as the moral discourse justifying the use of force on others, and the structures of oppression more generally, because it was more not less effective.
  8. As a result, the same stigma began to accumulate around the language of “addiction” and “the addict” that had previously accreted around the terms used to describe “sinners,” “boozehounds,” and “junkies.” Consequently, “addiction” language quickly and easily became the discourse deployed by carceral Christianity and the forces of state violence.
  9. As stated above (point #3), this inevitably occurs when people change their words but do not change their praxis. Social service organizations that have proven beneficial to maintaining the trajectory of the racial-capitalist status quo are particularly adept at constantly changing their language to reflect whatever cotemporary “evidence-based best practices” are trending—without modifying their polices, procedures, and actual practices in a meaningful way. Here, Gramsci’s notion of the “passive revolution” is relevant. Apparatuses are transformed due to pressure from below, but they are transformed in such a way that the power and priorities of the ruling classes are maintained or strengthened.
  10. Research into the dynamics of what we call “addiction” have highlighted how much of our response to “addiction,” is unhelpful or even actively harmful. We now know that “the opposite of addiction is connection,” that harm reduction approaches are more successful than abstinence-based programs, and so on.
  11. Therefore, instead of speaking about “drug addicts” or “drug addiction,” a lot of healthcare-oriented service providers began to use the language of “substance abuse.” This raises the odd philosophical question regarding if it is possible for a substance, like Adderall, to be “abused” but, more to the point, it still makes care-providers view the people they claim to care for as abusers. Consequently, healthcare providers now speak of “substance misuse” and “people who misuse substances.” They do this to try and avoid the not-so-subtle hint of moral condemnation that keeps creeping back into their language (because it turns out that a lot of what people thought was Christian morality is simply the bourgeois morality of racial capitalism).
  12. Speaking of “people who misuse substances” raises the not-so-easily answered ethical question of what counts as the proper use of a substance and inevitably requires us to examine the power dynamics that determine who has the authority to decide what counts as use or misuse (the violence workers of the state? The doctors who prescribe medications under the law? people with lived and living experience?).
  13. Is it misusing a substance to purchase and then smoke fentanyl because you have chronic pain and used to receive a prescription for Oxy-80s from your family doctor but now doctors will not prescribe narcotics like that for your pain and you have been flagged as “pill-seeking” because you continued to try and receive that medication (on which you now have a biochemical dependency—see point #18 below—which was created by a family doctor)?
  14. More to the point raised above (see point #10), is it misusing a substance to take it to soothe your pain and briefly experience the kind of comfort, reprieve, and feelings of self-confidence or belovedness you have not been able to experience anywhere else? Perhaps there is a cost to seeking a reprieve via that substance… but does that mean I am misusing that substance? After all, most everything under the regime of racial capitalism comes at a cost to us (something sex workers have continually reminded us about when they have highlighted how sex work is work).
  15. Therefore, care providers who are also more engaged with anti-oppressive practices (although see #7 above for how even this language is deployed in social services), have stopped using the language of “addiction” and instead speak of “self-soothing behaviours,” or “compulsively self-soothing behaviours.”
  16. At this point, it’s important to observe that we all engage in self-soothing behaviours and do so, more-or-less compulsively, depending on what other supports and avenues we have to being adequately soothed by other people or a diverse number of things or activities.
  17. To say that “the opposite of addiction is connection” is to highlight how much more compulsive our self-soothing becomes when we not only experience loneliness but are also abandoned by others—and most especially by those who should have cared for us or who explicitly profess to care for us (see point #2 above) but who fail to do so or who actively harm us instead.
  18. To highlight this now is not to take away from the fact that biochemical dependencies can develop in very material, embodied ways, in relation to what we refer to as “addiction.” However, the language of “addiction” is selectively employed in such matters. I do not, for example, speak about being addicted to my anti-depressant, although a biochemical dependency exists in relation to this chemical intervention. I am urged to take my medication regularly to (amongst other things) avoid a painful, difficult, and mentally distressing withdrawal process; but people “who take drugs” are said to be addicts in the throes of addiction because they, too, seek to maintain regular doses of their meds. In my case, regular use is mandated by a doctor. In the second case, the use is said to be a compulsive craving. Often, it should be noted, for the very same chemical.
  19. To this point, it is interesting when we speak of chemical interventions as “medications” and when we speak of them as “drugs” or, more generically, as “substances.” What often makes a chemical a “drug” instead of a “medication” is not the actual substance of the drug but whether it has been produced or acquired in a criminalized manner. For example, Adderall and Vyvanse, being virtually indistinguishable from crystal meth, are regularly acquired via both legal and criminalized channels. But if I get them from my doctor, I am taking medications. If I get them outside the Salvation Army, I am using drugs. Why are medications things that are “taken” but drugs are things that are “used”? I believe this subtle linguistic difference reveals a moral judgment.
  20. Furthermore, the study of how our biochemistry changes in relation to our compulsive forms of self-soothing tends to focus almost entirely on matters related to chemically-induced forms of self-soothing and have less to say about other forms (although diet may be an exception—we know, for example, that our gut microbiome can learn to crave high-fat and high-sugar foods—foods regularly consumed as a form of self-soothing—so that we, ourselves, end up craving more and more food of that sort once we eat a certain amount of it because the bacteria in our gut craves those foods and tells us to crave it, too).
  21. This is largely because some forms of compulsive self-soothing are socially accepted, sanctioned, and encouraged, while other forms are not. Workaholics, for example, are generally rewarded not only with wealth and power but also with high status. They accumulate both goods and goodness.
  22. In 2000, The Onion published an editorial with the headline, “I’m Like A Chocoholic, But For Booze,” and this satire succeeds, like other brilliant forms of satire, because it reveals something true that we often overlook.
  23. Whether or not a compulsive form of self-soothing is considered an “addiction,” has a lot to do with how that form of self-soothing impacts a person’s ability to function in ways that are deemed appropriate for them within the place they have inherited in racial capitalism.
  24. In fact, our society has a high tolerance for compulsive forms of self-soothing that may cause problems for someone in their personal life, but which don’t interfere with that person’s ability to contribute to, or not interfere with, the trajectory of our status quo. Workaholics and Chocoholics have already been mentioned (points 21 and 22 above), but one can also think of people who compulsively watch pornography, or “wine moms,” or hardcore fitness freaks, or, more generally, our cultural dependence on caffeine (capitalism makes me wake-up feeling like shit… caffeine helps me perk up and makes me more functional as a wage-labourer).
  25. Porn and alcohol are good examples that illustrate this point. Porn viewing, no matter how compulsive, is accepted if it doesn’t interfere with your work time and your ability to pay your bills. But if it interferes with those things, then it becomes an “addiction.” Same for drinking alcohol. Drink as much as you want, as long as you contribute to the system and don’t become dependent on the system. If you become dependent, well, now you’ve got a drinking problem.
  26. This is also why the very same drugs, even when they are criminalized, are treated very differently depending on if people who hoard wealth or if impoverished people use them. Rich people take massive amounts of cocaine but, for the most part, this does not interfere with their ability to accumulate capital and advance the trajectory of the status quo. However, when impoverished people take the same amount of cocaine, this can genuinely disrupt their ability to work for wages, pay their bills, and accumulate credit-debt via the designated channels. Thus, the police focus on impoverished cocaine use and the rich are, by and large, left alone.
  27. In other words, under racial capitalism, “substance misuse” or “addiction” more generally, is taken to be a form of compulsive self-soothing that interferes with one’s ability to perform the role one is expected to take in relation to one’s race, class, gender, ability, culture, and nationality.
  28. More specifically, “addiction” and “substance misuse” are labels that are applied liberally to forms of compulsive self-soothing that transform a person into a real or potential obstacle to the smooth functioning of the trajectory of the status quo of racial capitalism.
  29. This is part of the reason why, on the ground, people frequently choose to proudly claim labels that sensitive workers avoid. They recognize that the prettier sounding names that care providers give them are just masks covering the same old oppression. And so, just as feminists sometimes reclaim the “B” word and Black folks sometimes reclaim the “N” word, sometimes those whose medications or means of producing and procuring their medications have been criminalized, reclaim names like “junkie” or “crackhead,” or “waste case.”
  30. Ultimately, this reminds us, liberation is less about labels and more about praxis. Which isn’t to say that words don’t matter—words, after all make worlds—but if the world that those words are making or remaking is the exact same world that abandoned us to die in the first place, well, that’s a problem that we can’t just talk our way out of.
  31. In summary, the language of addiction (just like the language that came before and after it) is morally judgmental language deployed in an inconsistent, selective, and biased manner. It masquerades as a form of care but, in actual practice, further strengthens the hold of racial capitalism over our lives. But, just as the opposite of addiction is not abstinence but connection, so also the road to wellness is not recovery but liberation.
  32. A good first step on that road to liberation is decriminalization. As the Adderall/crystal meth example reminds us (see point #19 above), most of the harms we try to reduce in relation to “street drugs,” are produced not by the substances themselves, but by criminalization. This has also been demonstrated in countries that have decriminalized drugs that are criminalized in Canada (Switzerland, Portugal), and it has also been demonstrated in innumerable studies, including several that have taken place in Canada.
  33. The opposition to decriminalization, despite the overwhelming amount of evidence that supports it, reveals the extent to which “addiction science” and abstinence-based programs are still rooted in bourgeois Christian notions of “right” and “wrong.” The transition from “badness” to “sickness” (point #4 above), did not change anything fundamental about how oppressed people are treated, viewed by others, and made to feel about themselves. It did not change anything fundamental about how they are disciplined, punished, oppressed, and abandoned unto death.
  34. This abandonment unto death is explicitly encouraged in abstinence-based programs that deliberately withdraw support from people so that they can “hit rock bottom.” For many people, rock bottom is six feet underground in a pauper’s grave. This is a vivid example of how the language of care is applied to death-dealing practices.
  35. If our way of caring for people is killing them or exacerbating their suffering and contributing to them dying premature and preventable deaths, then we need to find other ways to care for people.
  36. If I am trying to understand how to engage in a truly liberatory praxis, then I need to understand why I think the way I do about morality, about ethical issues, and about what I consider to be “right” and “wrong,” “okay” and “not okay.”
  37. If I am trying to understand how to engage in a truly liberatory praxis, then I need to ask others (and myself!): What gives you life and affirms the life that is within you? What contributes to your sense of self-worth and belovedness? What eases your pain? What comforts you? What do you know that I don’t? (And what do I know that others don’t?) Where do you feel like you can relax? Where do you feel connection and belonging? Where do you feel at home? How have you been betrayed? What can I do that would make a meaningful difference to you? How can we get through this together?
  38. Asking these questions doesn’t mean I cede my own agency to others. It doesn’t mean I just agree with everything that anyone says to me. It doesn’t mean that I refuse to set any boundaries. It just means that I come to others with a genuine openness, with a transparency about my own values and preconceived notions, with a willingness to learn and be transformed in ways that sometimes feel uncomfortable (or even wrong!) to me, with a faith in others and their abilities to identify their own areas of need, and with a genuine desire to be useful in ways that others identify as useful.
  39. Note that this is very different than coming to people and saying, “You have (or are) a problem and I have (or am) the solution!” (The view expressed by countless White saviours and addiction workers.) The fact of the matter is that the oppression manufactured by and for racial capitalism is a problem for all of us. Mutually liberating solidarity—which is something we can only create together—is, in my opinion, the most hopeful way out of the mess that we all find ourselves in.
  40. If this feels like I have drifted rather far from my thesis question (what do we talk about when we talk about “addiction”?), that’s kind of the point. Go and do likewise.

Under Law/Under Grace

Downpression

To say “I am cold” needn’t mean “I am suffering,” I told myself ten years ago while pushing a double-seated stroller along unplowed sidewalks and over barricades of ice and slush thrown up by the plow. I was on the way to school and daycare before turning the opposite direction and walking a few more kilometres to work. The wind, it seemed, was always in my face in those days, except when it rushed in from the North like a wild thing carrying a storm. However, to say that I knew which way the wind was blowing, didn’t mean that I knew anything at all about the wind. For, as I learned once I started being cold without suffering, the winter wind is an especially mischievous, exuberant, and amoral being. The winter wind loves to play. He revels in being himself.

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2024 Reviews in Review

Well, my monthly reviews fell by the wayside this year, but I did continue to track my reading and viewing habits. In 2024, I read 125 books, watched 60 movies, and watched an additional 33 documentaries. The full list is provided below but first, the “best of the best” and the “worst of the worst”!

THE BEST OF THE BEST

BEST BOOKS

The last few years, instead of picking a single book as the “book of the year,” I’ve picked an author whose multiple books had a profound impact on me. This year, however, there really is one book that has influenced me and stayed with me more than the others. That book is The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power by Shoshana Zuboff. It’s a thorough and damning study of the rise of the big, big tech companies (specifically: Meta, Apple, Microsoft, Amazon, and Alphabet or MAMAA as they’re now sometimes called). Not only this but it looks at the consequences of the hegemony achieved by MAMAA and the impact this has on us collectively and as individuals (although, granted, some to the more Marxist or anarchist Left have criticized Zuboff, fairly enough, for being too focused on a liberal defense of free individuals rather than looking at things from a more communal, mutualistic, or collective perspective). I’ve read a few different books on the history and impact of these corporations but Zuboff’s was by far the most well done of all of them. In fact, I believe that Zuboff’s book is as close as we can come to essential reading for providing us with the contextual information we need in order to understand the world we live in. Specifically, Zuboff shows how the transition from liberal democracy to techno-feudalism is being (or has been?) accomplished. A lot of people have proclaimed the end of capitalism as we know it (specifically, the end of neoliberalism) but none of the arguments I have read in this regard have been very convincing to me. Things that people said were ending neoliberalism appeared, to me, to be things that actually strengthened and deepened neoliberalism’s hold on us and its ability to have us all live according to its core values. In fact, going as far back as 2004, I’ve always surmised that the end of capitalism, pace Marx first and foremost, would not result in communism—it would result in a return to feudalism. What Zuboff shows us is precisely how that transition takes place and what that new model of 21st-century feudalism looks like (something also explored by Yanis Varoufakis, Cédric Durand, and Malcolm Harris in books I also read this year—all good books, but none as significant, imo, as Zuboff’s book). This is a longer book but it reads quickly. Very highly recommended.

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Love Words

It was 9pm on December 25th and we were closing down from our dinner drop-in. A lot of homeless folx don’t have anywhere to go on Christmas day. And nothing really reminds you of just how homeless you really are as hunkering down in a nest of wet blankets in a doorway while the temperature drops below freezing and the shop windows behind you glow with pictures of happy families eat turkey and opening presents. So, we stayed open on Christmas Day and the staff members who had the day off even stopped in with their families for awhile. Sometimes that’s the difference between being a member of a community and being a human resource in a workplace.

So, yeah, it was 9pm on December 25th and we were closing down, but I was on my back on the bathroom floor holding the hand of a man who had stopped breathing and collapsed in the stall.

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Encounters 1

These encounters are full-to-the-brim with subtleties related to affect, presentation, nonverbal and paraverbal communications, and vibes that are hard to translate from brief but profoundly intimate face-to-face encounters to words that are written on a computer and read on a screen. I’m attempting to engage in this act of translation because so much of the heart-work and life-affirming and -transforming interactions we have occurs at this level. Plus, I’m a big fan of developing an ongoing communal reflection on our praxis so I’ll do my best to contribute to that here.

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On Distress

WHAT DO I DO WITH MY DISTRESS?

In my own life and thoughts, I am sometimes prone to catastrophizing or doom spiraling. Something difficult, painful, or simply uncomfortably unexpected occurs in an area of my life that I care about deeply, and suddenly my mind is racing through the next twenty awful things that are going to result from this until I arrive at the worst possible outcome. I become distressed, I ruminate, I catastrophize and suddenly the absolute worst thing imaginable has gone from being considered a highly improbable outlier to being treated as an inevitability that looms over everything.

This is a very uncomfortable experience. It results in an increased feeling of agitation and distress. And yet, when I sense myself initiating the spiral—i.e., when I am aware enough to observe that I am making a choice to initiate this process of catastrophizing—I learn that part of me really wants to throw me whole-heartedly into this distressing experience. I sense that I am beginning to spiral, I move to stop myself from doing so—and then something very strong within me says, “No! We are going into this and nothing can stop us and we are going to obsessively ruminate about everything awful and catastrophize until we feel absolutely annihilated and overwhelmed by it all!”

That’s kind of weird, right? Well, not really, because so many of us do that with behaviours that we experience as undesirable or painful and which we tell ourselves we want to avoid at all costs. It’s actually pretty normal to compulsively, obsessively, and sometimes rather forcefully do things that, on average, we say we really don’t enjoy doing at all. So instead of calling this weird, let’s call that a very curious thing. This part of me that refuses to allow this other part of me to stop me from doom spiraling, this part of me that wants to doom spiral and catastrophize, isn’t that a curious thing? What’s up with that?

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February Reviews

Because I am so far behind on these reviews, I will not be reviewing everything in my usual (and still not really adequate to be called a review) way. Instead, some titles will be mentioned and not reviewed. Then maybe I can catch up to where I’m at in the year. In February, I read or watched: 18 books (The Evocative Object World; Mourning and Melancholia; Mourning Diary; Hope Without Optimism; Slime; Wanderlust; Life in the City of Dirty Water; There There; Alphabetical Diaries; Either/Or; Diary; Trailer Park Shakes; Be Holding; Love’s Last Number; Best Canadian Poetry 2024; O; I Am Only a Foreigner Because You Do Not Understand; and We Are On Our Own); 3 movies (The Zone of Interest; The Dark and the Wicked; and Night Swim); and 6 documentaries (Fine Lines; Lover Stalker Killer; The Other Side of the Wind; Life Overtakes Me; The Soul in Peril; and Fungi).

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And Did You Get What You Needed From This Life, Even So?

AND DID YOU GET WHAT YOU NEEDED FROM THIS LIFE, EVEN SO?[1]

1. Maslow’s Doctrine

Over time, the need to translate complex needs into depoliticized programs that posture as caring while actually further entrenching the core trajectories of the status quo of racial capitalism—the need, in other words, to orient and justify care-work within the language, ideology, and commonsense perspective of a governance model that increasingly revolves around austerity, efficiency, value for money, and return on investment, wherein so-called service providers are compelled to bid on contracts designed by municipal bureaucrats who work largely on behalf of real estate developers and business associations and whose metrics of success are designed accordingly—has led to the formulation of certain core beliefs or models that now function as something like Scriptures within social services.

One such doctrine is Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. After staying with the Siksiká (Blackfoot) Nation in 1938 (more on that in a moment), Maslow developed a five-stage model of human need. At the base are physiological needs, then safety needs, love and belonging, esteem, and at the peak, the need for self-actualization.

Critically, according to Maslow’s doctrine, lower-tier needs have to be met before higher-tier needs can be adequately addressed. If a person is starving and exposed to the elements, it doesn’t make sense to focus on helping that person “become the most that one can be.” Instead, one should provide them with food, water, shelter, and clothing. A person can’t be their best self if they’re dead, right? Furthermore, and very importantly within Maslow’s doctrine, the individual who is experiencing unmet physiological needs is called to act responsibly by prioritizing basic needs over all others so as, to the best of their abilities, not be a burden on the community.

Interestingly, Maslow observes that of the Siksiká he met in 1938, approximately 80-90% were living at a stage of self-actualization that only 5-10% of Europeans attained (by “self-actualization” Maslow means, “the desire to become more and more what one is, to become everything that one is capable of becoming”). Maslow observes this about the Siksiká despite the fact that John A. MacDonald and the Canadian occupation had already cleared the plains (i.e. deliberately decimated buffalo populations and used mass starvation to drive Indigenous nations away from their own territories and ways of living onto reserves that basically operated as open-air prisons for people who were forcibly impoverished).[2] Furthermore, the Canadian state was already actively removing Siksiká children from many homes and communities (the first “Indian Residential School” for the Siksiká was opened in 1886).[3] White supremacy and racism was rampant in the nearby White communities. Maslow himself observes that the local Whites “were the worst bunch of creeps and bastards I’d ever run across in my life.” In other words, the Siksiká were already going through significant genocide-related traumas, were being targeted by well-armed colonizers intent on their destruction, were being deprived of basic needs, had their safety jeopardized, and were still living (according to Maslow) with 80-90% of their people self-actualizing in ways that 90-95% of Europeans (including Canadians of European descent) were not.

What is going on here? Well, as Cindy Blackstock and other Indigenous scholars and knowledge-keepers have emphasized, Maslow’s doctrine is a mis/appropriation of (part of) the Siksiká worldview. Blackstock provides the following illustration (which she acknowledges is a major simplification of both sides):

What Maslow places at the top of his pyramid is actually the foundation of the Siksiká teepee. This is the case, in part, because unlike the European perspective regarding the individual who must be responsible for himself [sic], the Siksiká believed that the community, as a collective, was responsible for covering everyone’s basic needs.[4] The individual who chose to enter into this life was thus, from birth (or before birth in some Indigenous ontologies), entering into a process of self-actualization. This was then carried forward from birth through the collective sense of kinship that was exhibited in practices of mutual care (community actualization), and the perpetuation of a culture that prioritized the meaningful and active interconnectedness of kin, clans, and nations (from other Indigenous nations to plant and animal nations), to a sense of home that was rooted in a sense of being of the land (rather than being owners of the land—belonging not belongings being what is at stake here). Thus, a person is born into self-actualization and then, rather than maturing into “rugged individualism” or “developing oneself as a competitive unit of human capital in a limited goods economy populated by winners and losers,” one matures into caring for oneself along with others. This is done in the present, with attention to the past (via one’s elders and ancestors) and extends into the future (for the next seven generations).

Significantly, drawing on the work of Terry Cross (Seneca), Blackstock argues for a non-hierarchical interconnectedness of human needs based upon a medicine wheel, rather than a hierarchical structure (be that a pyramid or a teepee).[5]

This is a profoundly different understanding of human need, the inter- and intra-connectedness of being, and how we go about caring well for ourselves and others than that offered by Maslow’s doctrine. Critically, depending on what is happening at any given moment, a different quadrant of the wheel may take priority. Some things are worth starving for. Some things are worth dying for. And some things are not. It all depends on how a people understand their situation, what values they hold, and what they believe is the best way forward. Maslow’s doctrine forecloses this complexity, denies these possibilities and, ultimately, enforces a very Eurocentric conception of personhood, wellbeing, care, responsibility, and individuality, while making that conception appear to be a universal truth or fact.

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