Stick, meet Carrot. How Portland police and activists teamed up to fight addiction.
| Portland, Ore.
Tera Hurst and Aaron Schmautz found themselves sitting side by side in a van zipping through Portugal. Close quarters. They鈥檇 long been accustomed to sitting on opposite sides of Oregon鈥檚 State Legislature, battling over drug policy. Would the two longtime adversaries spend the drive exchanging polite pleasantries about the Iberian Peninsula scenery?
Ms. Hurst is the executive director of the Health Justice Recovery Alliance, which represents over 100 addiction recovery groups. Her organization opposes incarceration for drug use. It鈥檚 a cause that鈥檚 deeply personal to her. As a teenager, she was diagnosed with alcoholism.
鈥淢y mom got to a place where she didn鈥檛 think I would live past 20, and I didn鈥檛 want to,鈥� she recalls. One night, at 3 a.m., she was contemplating suicide. At that lowest of moments, she entered rehab. 鈥�I actually had a friend drive me around for four hours waiting with me, because I knew if I went to sleep, I wouldn鈥檛 go. I wouldn鈥檛 go, and I probably wouldn鈥檛 have survived,鈥� she recalls.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onPortland became famous for a failed drug decriminalization measure. But on a fact-finding trip, the two sides found themselves doing something they rarely did: talking. Out of that, a promising pilot program was born. Part 1 of a series.
Mr. Schmautz is president of the Portland Police Association. He doesn鈥檛 want to incarcerate drug users, but he believes public drug use should qualify as a misdemeanor. 鈥淲hen you talk to a lot of people who are suffering from addiction, many of them will tell you that their pathway to sobriety was through the justice system,鈥� he says.
During his 20 years on the job, the second-generation police officer has seen it all. He recounts seeing a man bathing himself in the contents of a port-a-potty that the city provided for homeless people.聽
鈥淭he question becomes, what is compassion for him?鈥� Mr. Schmautz asks. Do you just let him carry on? 鈥淥r is it compassionate to take away his freedom and put him in a place where he can actually get help? And honestly, like this is where the conversations are hard.鈥�
Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz previously clashed over the voter-approved passage of Measure 110, which effectively decriminalized drugs for three years. This year, following a wave of public discontent, the Legislature rolled back decriminalization.聽
Last November, Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz were among 24 Oregonian lawmakers, treatment specialists, and police on a fact-finding mission to Portugal. Ms. Hurst鈥檚 organization financed the trip to observe the European nation鈥檚 20-year-old drug decriminalization program. Oregon, like so many other parts of North America and the rest of the world, is trying to figure out how to lower deaths from drug addiction.
Inside the confines of the van, Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz did something they hadn鈥檛 really done much of before. They started talking and listening to each other.
The pilot program that resulted from that trip offers promise for a new path forward, one in which both sides are working together. Treatment providers are teaming up with law enforcement to patrol high drug-use areas in Portland. When police intercept drug users in dire situations, rehabilitation specialists are on scene to offer a lifeline. The two groups have long disagreed over the most effective way to get people into treatment. Stick, meet Carrot.聽
What made the two sides open to change? Answer: Oregon鈥檚 drug policy hit rock-bottom. In 2020, voters approved Measure 110. Voters turned against that experiment because crime remained high. Tent encampments proliferated. According to a new , drug deaths in Oregon spiked by 27% last year. The Pacific Northwest bucked an otherwise encouraging trend: the first nationwide decline in fatal overdoses in five years.
In April, the state recriminalized low-level drug possession.聽
Policy solutions to Oregon鈥檚 overlapping homelessness and drug addiction crises require rigorous debate. Here鈥檚 what Oregon is discovering about overcoming mistrust between various stakeholders. First, in-person relationship building is essential. Second, when two sides have to solve a problem they each care about, a desire for cooperation can override old feelings of competition. Third, find a common point of agreement as a grit of sand to make the pearl.
鈥淎lthough there was real disagreement about what to do, there was agreement, for the most part, on the human worth of people who have this problem,鈥� says Keith Humphreys, a professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford University and author of 鈥淪o people were fighting, but they were all fighting for the same thing. They were all upset about overdoses. ... The idea of recovery is, I think, a unifying concept.鈥�
What happened after the 12th arrest
It took 12 arrests for Joe Bazeghi to finally surrender. The man with a heroin addiction was dying. He鈥檇 already spent three months in intensive care. Then his girlfriend died of an overdose. One of the cops who responded to that call recognized Mr. Bazeghi. They鈥檇 gone to high school together.
鈥淗e said, 鈥楯oe, I鈥檓 not going to let you go this time,鈥欌�� Mr. Bazeghi recalls. 鈥淚鈥檓 gonna do everything I can to hold you.鈥�
The police officer helped him enter a program to get help. For Mr. Bazeghi, it was a relief.
鈥淚 was treatment-ready long before I had access to treatment,鈥� says Mr. Bazeghi, now director of engagement at , a drug rehabilitation program. 鈥淢y case was desperate and I knew it. And, therefore, I was willing to accept treatment.鈥�
Today, Mr. Bazeghi is one of the co-founders of Portland鈥檚聽pilot program.
In Portugal, Mr. Bazeghi also spent time with Mr. Schmautz, whom he describes as a 鈥済reat guy.鈥� He recalls a pivotal conversation. Mr. Bazeghi, a representative from Portugal鈥檚 national institute on drug use, a leader from the Mental Health & Addiction Association of Oregon, and Mr. Schmautz all liked Portugal鈥檚 street-team partnerships between police and outreach workers.
鈥淲e said, 鈥楬ey, instead of waiting around, why don鈥檛 we pilot getting together?鈥欌�� says Mr. Bazeghi. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 wait for a legislature or a mayor鈥檚 office or anybody to sign off on it.鈥�
The following month, a police bike squad and treatment providers quietly began working together in the Old Town neighborhood. In April, to other areas with聽$683,000 in funding.
Which isn鈥檛 to say there isn鈥檛 still lingering wariness. Just ask Ms. Hurst and Mr. Schmautz.
鈥淲hat was important with going on that trip with Aaron, for me, was really understanding that his perspective comes from his job,鈥� says Ms. Hurst, who gained an appreciation for the pressure the police are under to keep a community safe.
In turn, Ms. Hurst shared her perspective that not all drug dealers are predators. Some are trying to feed themselves and, sometimes, a family.
A major fault line is over the most effective way to get people into treatment. Mr. Schmautz favors a tough-love approach; Ms. Hurst, a softer harm reduction that emphasizes creating a safe, humane environment for drug users. They can鈥檛 be forced into rehab. They have to be ready for it.
One point of agreement: Oregon can鈥檛 arrest its way out of its crisis. It鈥檚 a mental health and public health issue and should be handled as such. That鈥檚 the Portuguese approach. Oregon is still playing catch-up. Everyone agrees there鈥檚 . That鈥檚 why the provision in Measure 110 to fund shelter and drug treatment has been preserved.聽
The wealth of funding 鈥� 鈥� has facilitated cooperation among nonprofits that previously saw themselves in competition.
鈥淢easure 110 said, 鈥業f you want to take one cent from this money, you must coordinate across a system of partnerships that will make up the entire continuum,鈥欌�� says Mr. Bazeghi, sitting in Recovery Works Northwest offices, yards from a suburban house that鈥檚 been converted into a detox center. 鈥淚n order for us to make money here, we have to work with residential treatment providers, housing providers, support and employment providers.鈥�
The same goes for working with law enforcement.
Yet according to Mr. Schmautz, there are still some in the treatment ecosystem who won鈥檛 partner with members of law enforcement because they say they鈥檒l lose credibility with people on the streets.聽
鈥淟aw enforcement in our country has more touch points with people suffering from addiction than anybody else,鈥� continues Mr. Schmautz. 鈥淲hy would you not then want to be a partner with law enforcement to get people out of that justice system as soon as humanly possible, to give them hope, to give them a different pathway, if you truly care?鈥�
For treatment providers, suspicion of police is rooted in the war on drugs. For decades, it鈥檚 resulted in high levels of incarceration 鈥揺specially among Black people and Latinos.聽
鈥淭he actual culture of law enforcement is problematic because it is built in a kind of fear, militaristic 鈥榩ower over鈥� model,鈥� says Ms. Hurst. 鈥淭hey haven鈥檛 built that trust.鈥澛�
Those misgivings have been underscored by police brutality in the national news, from children being killed in home raids using deadly force to the murder of George Floyd, which sparked a 鈥渄efund the police鈥� movement.聽
Mr. Schmautz remembers that backlash in 2020 vividly. He recalls the more than in downtown Portland.
鈥淎 mob of people broke into an occupied jail and lit it on fire,鈥� he says. 鈥淲ith people in it.鈥澛�
Demoralized police officers quit in droves.聽
鈥淏eing a police officer is becoming sort of a shameful activity for families that are left-wing or centrist. And so police are [self-]selecting more conservative,鈥� says Stanford University鈥檚 Mr. Humphreys, who helped guide drug policy for Presidents George H.W. Bush and Barack Obama. 鈥淚f that continues, this gets a lot harder because, for health and public health and public safety to work together, they have to at least agree on some shared reality.鈥澛�
鈥淲e cannot ... arrest our way out of these issues鈥�
In an interview at her home, Ms. Hurst pushes back on the claim from some legislators that treatment providers aren鈥檛 willing to work with police. She says that if the police feel that way, law enforcement should invite treatment providers to morning roll calls at police stations to dispel their fears and preconceived notions.
鈥淎aron and I both know that that takes time and that takes buy-in, and he and I can only do so much,鈥� she says.
Mr. Schmautz has tried to model a path.聽He recalls inviting several treatment providers, who themselves had battled addictions, to the police station for a meeting about the pilot program. They were initially reluctant. Some had arrests and convictions, and they had bad memories of the place. But when the providers showed up, he ushered them into a meeting room that鈥檚 off-limits to the public.聽
鈥淭hat鈥檚 the level of access for people who historically haven鈥檛 had it,鈥� says Mr. Schmautz. 鈥淲hen you鈥檙e an addict, you feel like you鈥檙e just cast out. ... They were emotional. I鈥檓 like, 鈥榃e鈥檙e going to do this together. I鈥檓 not better than you. I鈥檓 just a guy doing a job, and you鈥檙e a guy doing a job. Let鈥檚 do it together.鈥欌��
That mutual recognition is already happening at a one-on-one level in the pilot program. Some treatment providers who were formerly incarcerated and living on the streets are now on patrols with law enforcement. When an officer comes across someone asking for help and then does what Ms. Hurst calls 鈥渁 warm hand-off鈥� to a treatment provider, they can witness firsthand what addiction treatment looks like.
At a leadership level, Ms. Hurst wishes that lawmakers would use their bully pulpit to convene constituents for more of the sorts of conversations that took place in Portugal. But she concedes that relationship building can鈥檛 all be incumbent on waiting for the other side to act.聽
鈥淎aron and I probably need to get back to talking again,鈥� she says. She鈥檚 appreciative that he was willing to go to Portugal and engage in dialogue despite the pushback he received.聽鈥淲e鈥檙e not out there usually advocating for the police. We鈥檙e advocating for thoughtful, effective strategies. Police have to play a role in this.鈥�
It may be difficult for the two sides to resolve fundamental philosophical disagreements. But the something that Mr. Schmautz told the statehouse: 鈥淎ddiction and mental health concerns are a health issue. We cannot and should not attempt to arrest our way out of these issues.鈥�
Mr. Schmautz says that the only way forward is cooperation. Ms. Hurst and Mr. Bazeghi both agree. They still share the common goal of reaching people when they鈥檙e at their lowest moment and ready to accept help.聽
During the winter months of the pilot program, Mr. Bazeghi recalls working alongside officers who鈥檇 found a fentanyl user freezing to death in a sleeping bag. The man had a realization: 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to do this anymore.鈥� That night, he entered a rehab facility.
鈥淚f we can make people not feel separated, not feel exiled, feel safe ... then eventually that window is going to present [itself],鈥� says Mr. Bazeghi. 鈥淢easure 110 made us work together. We still have a ways to go there. It鈥檚 gotten so much better than in 2021 when we started this off.鈥�
Part 2: 鈥極ur children would not be dead.鈥� Why these moms are advocating for safe drugs.
Part 3: How Portugal became a world leader in fighting drug addiction
