Life on the Drug Beat

I’ve been on the drug beat for over five years now, and the experience has turned me into something of a crusader, trying to dislodge drug journalism from the sensational crime vertical and inject (no pun intended) empirical rigor and moral humanity into news coverage.

In 1980, the Washington Post ran a harrowing story about an 8-year-old Washington D.C boy addicted to heroin. The story described “needle marks freckling the baby-smooth skin of his thin, brown arms.” The reporter’s assistant managing editor, Bob Woodward, submitted the story for a Pulitzer Prize, and it won. There was only one problem: the 8-year-old boy didn’t exist. The story was fabricated. 

In the 1990s, the media sparked a racist panic about “crack babies” that became a pretext to severely punish Black women who used drugs. In the days of underground raves, the idea that MDMA melted holes in your brain was reported as scientific fact. Based on dubious science and moral panic, then Senator Joe Biden drafted a bill known as the RAVE Act (Reducing Americans’ Vulnerability to Ecstasy) to punish concert promoters as drug dealers. 

When it comes to drug reporting, the media has astounding power to spur misguided and reactionary policy at all levels of government. Long before “fake news” and “alternative facts” entered the media’s lexicon, journalism about drugs and addiction was the province of hyperbole, pseudoscience, and outright lies. 

I’ve been on the drug beat for over five years now, and the experience has turned me into something of a crusader, trying to dislodge drug journalism from the sensational crime vertical and inject (no pun intended) empirical rigor and moral humanity into news coverage. Now, during a historic overdose crisis, problems in drug journalism persist. Seemingly every week,  a police officer “overdoses” on fentanyl from merely touching it — which is not a thing. Or some menacing drug dealers lacing marijuana with fentanyl — also not a thing. Stories about the evils of opioids do not quote doctors who treat pain or disabled patients who regain function thanks to pain relief. 

Just this month, right wing media stirred up a racist smear about the federal government funding the distribution of “crack pipes.” The pressure campaign worked and the White House caved, assuring some of the cruelest people that their tax dollars will not be spent on “crack pipes.” And like clockwork, media coverage allowed politicians to draft bogus legislation with a ridiculous acronym. Senators Marco Rubio and Joe Manchin teamed up to pass the PIPES Act (Preventing Illicit Paraphernalia for Exchange Systems… whatever that means), barring the federal government from funding the purchase of crack pipes and syringes.   

What accounts for such flawed coverage? Or what gives with the lack of compassion for those struggling with a mental health condition? It’s not simply the case that some reporters are just bad at their jobs. I think the problem is much bigger than individuals. 

For one, most news outlets do not have health and science reporters dedicated to drugs. NPR hired its first ever “addiction correspondent” in 2019. Moreover, research shows that local news outlets are more prone to reporting stigmatizing stories about addiction. 

Generalists diving into the story may not have the wherewithal to consult the scientific literature — if they’re even aware it exists. Local news outlets also tend to have cozy ties with the local police. Instead of tracking down a local physician or public health bureaucrat, the county sheriff or police chief is on speed dial. Needless to say, police tend to lack the requisite medical and scientific knowledge to accurately comment on the matter. In the view of policing, drugs are a crime, and drug users are criminals. 

The broader culture we are unconsciously stewing in each day informs our assumptions. Sensational TV shows like Dr. Phil and Intervention are rife with prejudiced information, yet reach millions of viewers. Meanwhile, DARE officers have been giving anti-drug propaganda lectures to young pupils for decades. Google search results are also tainted by for-profit treatment centers that hire SEO marketers (see veteran Study Haller Cat Ferguson’s reporting on that disaster). The American ethos is “tough love” rather than empathic harm reduction. 

Finally, there’s the history of racism. Drugs are a highly malleable political signifier that has long been used to whip up fear and panic about racialized minorities. This dates way back to the sinophobic days of “yellow peril,” casting Chinese migrant workers as opium peddlers corrupting young white women, which spurred The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. This vicious pattern has repeated itself for well over a century.

The weight of America’s history and culture accrues. It took me years of reporting to spot the traps and avoid the landmines that litter the field. Even with years on the beat, I still make mistakes and errors. 

Freelancing on the fringes of a national emergency can be extremely taxing. Over the years, I’ve learned phrases like “moral injury” and “vicarious trauma” to better understand the psychic toll. But the simple act of giving the public solid information and a better understanding of the world is also highly rewarding. I love doing this. 

I’m also entering a new phase of beat writing. For the past couple years I’ve mostly worked with magazines like The Nation, The New Republic, New York, and New York Times Mag. Last January, fellow freelancer Tana Ganeva and I started Substance, a substack dedicated to pushing back against crime and drug panics. As of now we have 450 subscribers, and in March we plan to start putting some articles behind the paywall. Even if it doesn’t pay off, the experience has been invigorating. Tana remarked that it feels like she’s on staff again. We scour the news, chat with sources, and write fast. The newsletter business obviously reaches a smaller audience, but it feels like a great way for beat writers to experiment with style and stretch our legs. 

Sure all this gets tiring. And I have doubts if I’m ever really helping anybody. But the problems of drug journalism are perennial, evergreen. It feels good to be needed.

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