A daring drug experiment in Sydney suburb

Dewi Anggraeni, Contributor, Melbourne

Kings Cross, an inner suburb of Sydney, is well known for its nightlife, though it is not exactly dull and deserted in the daytime either. It is a place where locals and tourists alike go for a good time. Nightclubs, discos and restaurants abound, many offering different types of shows, such as stripteases and lap dances.

Unfortunately where there is amusement, misery is usually lurking close by. To the dismay of its residents, for decades Kings Cross has also been attracting drug users. Having nowhere to go, they shoot up in public parks and on the sidewalks.

By May 2000 various steps to remedy the situation had been tried, but all had failed. The city council, trapped between the need to take action to minimize the harm done by the drug users and the outrage of the locals, seemed to do nothing right.

When it became clear that the drug users would continue to use the public parks, the council provided them special disposal bins for their syringes in order to prevent council workers from stepping on or having to pick up used needles.

However, this invoked the anger of the residents, who accused the council of condoning the use of illegal drugs. So the bins were removed, and to discourage the drug users from remaining in the parks, so were water faucets in the public toilets. Again, protests flooded in from residents, because the absence of faucets greatly inconvenienced them. And most of them blamed the drug users for the damage.

It became increasingly obvious that something very innovative and politically daring needed to be done. That was how the Reverend Ray Richmond of the Wayside Chapel became involved.

"The churches were more concerned than others about getting those people well. There were very few options for treatment. The community's only wish was to get rid of them.

"That simply isn't going to happen because of the nature of the businesses, nightclubs and the accompanying sex industries, which have gone on here for many years. The reality is, this is an attractive scene for drug-taking people," Richmond said.

At the beginning of May 2000, the Wayside Chapel decided to take a huge leap into the dark. They opened up a room in the church as a safe place for the drug users who otherwise would be injecting their drugs, and often dying, in the streets.

"We realized that these were people who were not going to get better tomorrow simply by making a new moral decision about their behavior," said Richmond.

As could be expected, such a controversial move was not unopposed. In less than two weeks, there was an outcry from various groups, demanding that the premier of the state stop the program and that the police arrest Richmond. The police duly raided and closed the room, though they eventually dropped all the charges against Richmond.

Instead of killing the issue, the outcry and the police raid raised the profile of the daring experiment, and led to heated discussions during the Drug Summit which took place shortly afterward.

Both sides of the issue were well represented. Among those who fought for the legalization of such safe places for drug users were health professionals and lawyers. One of them, Dr. Raymond Seidler, has a practice in the center of Kings Cross.

Seidler has been working in Kings Cross for 23 years and has seen thousands of drug users in that time. On his regular visits to his older patients, Seidler often saw people injecting drugs in the streets and in doorways, and some of these people would overdose.

"I'd have to either resuscitate them or call the ambulance, in the meantime injecting them with narcan. From a public health point of view, that was a hopeless situation. So with Dr. Alex Wodak from St. Vincent's Hospital and a number of others who were keenly interested in the welfare of drug-dependent people, we became involved in the safe injecting room initiated by the Reverend Ray Richmond," Seidler recounted.

Following the Drug Summit, the New South Wales state government made a politically daring decision. In August 2000, they passed legislation giving the project an official 18-month trial.

The safe injecting room was to be provided with medical and administrative staff, and a fully equipped drug-overdose and resuscitation center. A location was subsequently found, on Darlinghurst Road in the heart of Kings Cross.

Shortly after the opening of the Darlinghurst center, a group of local businesspeople took out a court action demanding its closure. However, since the trial was backed by proper legislation, the action was unsuccessful.

Unwilling to concede defeat, the owner of a photo shop near the center set up a camera and took photos of people who went into and out of the building. When this did not deter the users, the shop owner gave up.

From the outside, the center is plain and unassuming. Inside, visitors enter a reception area and are screened in an interview room, where they are registered. They are then taken to one of 16 booths, where they can use their drug of choice under supervision. After that they can remain for a half hour or so in a lounge and have a cup of coffee or tea before leaving. The booths are separated from each other to avoid contamination.

Both Richmond and Dr. Seidler believe the trial has been successful so far. Every day approximately 100 people use the center. It has also saved lives. Before its opening, the community witnessed about 140 deaths each year.

Up to 50 percent of the users who have frequented the Darlinghurst center have been successfully referred to rehabilitation centers. What is more, the funding is drawn from money confiscated from convicted drug dealers, so the Health Department budget is not touched.

"It is an important trial watched closely by the UN and the narcotics control boards in Europe and other countries," the Reverend Richmond said.