Freedom’s Price Tag: Why America’s Rushed Liberalization Leaves Lives in Ruins

 

Rushing into liberalization without safeguards is as American as apple pie—and just as likely to crumble under pressure. Simply put, America’s addiction to instant reform is like prescribing surgery without an anesthetic: bold, but ultimately disastrous.

America’s knack for rushing into liberalization before building the necessary safeguards is as predictable as the seasons. Oregon’s recent experiment with drug decriminalization is a glaring example of this trend. When voters approved Measure 110 in November 2020, the idea was to move drug addiction away from the criminal justice system and treat it as a public health issue. At first glance, it sounded compassionate, even revolutionary. But here’s the catch: while the state jumped into decriminalization with zeal, it forgot to build the critical framework for addiction treatment and prevention first.

I must argue that this lack of preparation has had devastating consequences. By 2023, Oregon had recorded a nearly 33% increase in overdose deaths from the previous year, reaching an alarming total of 1,833 fatalities. These numbers aren’t just statistics; they represent real lives lost because the infrastructure to address addiction simply wasn’t ready. Nationally, overdose deaths during the same period began to decline, yet Oregon’s numbers soared, laying bare the tragic consequences of prioritizing policy over planning.

When Measure 110 passed, there were promises aplenty. The legislation decriminalized small amounts of hard drugs like heroin, methamphetamine, and cocaine, and it redirected cannabis tax revenue to fund addiction recovery services. The vision was noble: treat drug addiction as a health issue rather than a crime, reduce incarceration rates, and expand access to care. But as the saying goes, “A promise is a cloud; fulfillment is rain.” While the state moved quickly to decriminalize, it took years for funding and treatment programs to catch up.

By the end of 2022, Oregon had allocated only a fraction of the funds intended for addiction treatment programs. Worse still, many treatment centers struggled to launch because of bureaucratic delays and inadequate oversight. In some cases, funds were mismanaged, leaving vulnerable communities without access to critical services. The Oregon Health Authority, responsible for overseeing the rollout of these programs, was criticized for its disorganized approach. For a policy meant to save lives, the lack of urgency in setting up treatment facilities was nothing short of catastrophic.

Let me put it bluntly: Oregon became a case study in how not to implement drug reform. Without adequate treatment centers, decriminalization effectively turned into a free pass for drug use. Public spaces, especially in urban areas like Portland, became overrun with open drug use and its associated challenges. Neighborhoods that had once supported the idea of Measure 110 began to feel betrayed as they witnessed rising crime rates and a deterioration in the quality of life. Even Portland Mayor Ted Wheeler admitted that the public’s tolerance for the policy was wearing thin as drug dealers brazenly congregated in front of schools and libraries.

Oregon’s story underscores a broader issue in American policy-making: our tendency to embrace idealistic reforms without adequately considering their real-world implications. We’ve seen it before. The rapid deregulation of the banking industry in the 2000s led to the 2008 financial crisis. The swift expansion of charter schools, without proper oversight, has left public education systems in disarray in several states. And now, with drug decriminalization, we see the same pattern: a rush to liberalize without first building the structures needed to support and sustain the change.

As an American, I can’t help but wonder why we don’t learn from these mistakes. It’s not as if history doesn’t provide clear warnings. Take Portugal, for instance, often cited as the gold standard for drug decriminalization. When Portugal decriminalized drugs in 2001, it paired the policy with a massive investment in treatment and harm reduction services. The country created a network of support systems, from mobile outreach units to counseling programs, ensuring that people struggling with addiction had somewhere to turn. The result? Drug-related deaths and HIV infections plummeted.

In contrast, Oregon’s approach was akin to planting a tree without watering it. The promise of treatment was there, but the resources and infrastructure were not. And so, instead of reducing harm, the policy created new harms of its own. By the time funding for treatment centers finally began to flow in earnest, the damage had already been done. Communities had lost faith in the system, and the human cost was undeniable.

Earlier this year, Oregon lawmakers took the unprecedented step of rolling back parts of Measure 110. Critics of the rollback argue that it’s a step backward, undermining the progress made in treating addiction as a public health issue. But I would argue that this course correction was inevitable. Policies can’t exist in a vacuum; they need to be accompanied by practical measures that address the realities on the ground. When overdose deaths are rising, and public order is collapsing, something has to give.

There’s a proverb that says, “Hindsight is 20/20.” Looking back, it’s clear that Oregon’s experiment with decriminalization was a cautionary tale, not a success story. It’s not that the idea was wrong—on the contrary, treating addiction as a health issue is the right approach. But the execution was fatally flawed. Without guardrails, even the best-intentioned policies can spiral out of control.

As Americans, we need to ask ourselves why we keep falling into this trap. Why do we keep rushing into liberalization without first building the necessary foundation? Is it a lack of political will? A failure of imagination? Or are we simply too impatient to wait for the slow, hard work of implementation? Whatever the reason, the consequences are clear: lives lost, communities fractured, and trust eroded.

The rollback of Measure 110 should serve as a wake-up call. If we are to pursue ambitious reforms, we must do so with the patience and foresight to get them right. Otherwise, we’re just setting ourselves up for failure, one rushed policy at a time. After all, as the satirical writer Ambrose Bierce once quipped, “A reformer is a mystic who sees what isn’t there and acts on it.”

And with that, I leave you to ponder: how many more experiments like Oregon’s can we afford before we finally learn to plan before we act?