Preventive Health Measures Should Not Bend With the Political Wind
For the past decade, synthetic opioids such as fentanyl have driven most overdose deaths. Against this backdrop, a simple, evidence-based tool—the fentanyl test strip—has become both a lifeline and a hot-button political target. On April 24th, the Trump administration unpredictably sent a letter to public health departments and grant recipients that fentanyl test strips, and other types of life-saving test strips, would no longer be considered fundable through federal dollars. While not explicitly stated in the letter, this stance is part of a larger strategic retreat from harm-reduction practices based on the misconception that prevention tools such as test strips ‘condone’ or ‘encourage’ drug use.
Does this road seem familiar? Public health experts have proven time and time again that policies intended to lead Americans toward ‘abstinence’ (think avoidance of condom education in the 1980s, prohibition-era alcohol avoidance, Just-Say-No campaigns) rarely eliminate risky behavior. They simply make it more dangerous. Critics often argue that overdose prevention tools tacitly condone drug use, but this framing misunderstands both human behavior and public health.
Fentanyl test strips do not encourage drug use. A growing body of research shows that when people know fentanyl is present, many change their behavior—using less, not using alone, or avoiding the substance altogether. Information, in this case, saves lives. Removing access to that information does not prevent use; it increases the likelihood of death.
I wish we lived in a world where no one used illicit drugs, but wishing does not make it so. In today’s drug landscape, where fentanyl contaminates everything from counterfeit pills to cocaine to methamphetamine, even occasional or first-time use can be fatal. The margin for error has disappeared.
In 2021, my son Eli died from an accidental fentanyl ingestion. With every inch of my being I wish he hadn’t chosen to take that pill before heading out for the evening with his college friends. With all of my being, I wish he’d had access to a fentanyl test strip. Countless parents feel just as strongly about the dear children they’ve lost. His death catalyzed the founding of BirdieLight, a nonprofit dedicated to drug safety education and overdose prevention; our singular mission is to reduce risk wherever possible. Since Eli’s death, we have educated thousands of young people about the dangers of drug adulteration and how to prevent overdose—and yes, we have distributed 1000s of fentanyl test strips since their legalization in Ohio in 2023.
A multitude of real experience stories have been shared with us. After one campus visit, a student reported that a friend had discovered fentanyl in a substance and warned others, likely preventing multiple overdoses. Another person wrote that a test strip stopped them from using methamphetamine, stating that if they’d moved forward alone, they most likely would have died. These aren’t anecdotes of recklessness rewarded; they are stories of lives preserved.
Policies that restrict access to drug testing strips are not just misguided—they are dangerous. They prioritize ideology over evidence. At this point in time, when overdose deaths continue to devastate families and communities, we should be expanding access to every proven tool at our disposal, not limiting them.
Harm reduction is not the end of the story nor is it a substitute for treatment in the case of a substance use disorder, but it is a bridge that keeps people alive long enough to reach recovery, when they are ready.
Eli Weinstock’s legacy and BirdieLight’s work is a reminder that behind every overdose statistic stands a person whose life mattered and whose death may have been prevented. Honoring that legacy means embracing strategies that work, even when they challenge our assumptions.
