Beyond Knowing Drugs are Dangerous
This morning, I discussed the materials for an online anti-drug education and counselling session with my wife. The theme of the event is quite familiar: “Upgrade Your Llife, Not Drugs! Protect Yourself, Achieve Your Future.” The event is organised by the Jameatkheir Islamic Institute in collaboration with the National Narcotics Board (BNN).
There were two speakers, and my wife was appointed as the keynote speaker. There was Zoom, a schedule, and all the usual components of an official event. However, our conversation stopped at a simpler question: if children already know that drugs are dangerous, what else should we teach them?
This question is vital because, so far, anti-drug education has often functioned like a lesson on fire. Children are told that fire is hot, can burn houses, damage bodies, and even kill. We then hope that if someone one day approaches them with a lighter, the child will automatically shout, “No!”
The problem is, humans are not textbooks that always act according to memorised answers.
Almost all children have heard that drugs are dangerous. They know drugs can damage health, education, families, and even the future. They may have also seen images of damaged brains or heard stories of people losing their lives to drugs. However, knowledge of the dangers does not automatically translate into the ability to refuse.
This is where anti-drug education needs to level up. Cutting-edge research is increasingly pointing towards prevention that does not stop at providing information, but rather builds emotional regulation, self-resilience, pressure-handling skills, help-seeking abilities, and social competence.
A recently published systematic review and meta-analysis found that school prevention programmes that combine mental health with substance use prevention yield better results regarding several alcohol-related behaviours. This includes the integration of emotional regulation, resilience, stress management, coping, and help-seeking.
This finding changes our fundamental question. We should not only ask, “Does the child know drugs are dangerous?” We should also ask, “What does the child do when they are under pressure, lonely, angry, failing, wanting to be accepted by peers, or offered something ‘cool’?” Because the temptation of drugs rarely arrives with a message saying: “I am drugs. I will destroy your future.”
It can arrive in much simpler sentences: “Just try a little.” “Don’t be afraid.” “Everyone is doing it.” “If you are my friend, join in.” In that moment, the child is not taking a knowledge test. They are facing social pressure.
Therefore, the ‘Say No to Drugs’ slogan on anti-drug flyers is actually only half of the education. Children must indeed be able to say no. But we need to teach them how to say no when friends continue to press them, when they fear being ostracised, or when they themselves are seeking an escape.
We could even conduct simulations during counselling sessions. One participant plays the role of a friend offering drugs, while another practices refusing. The friend mocks them; they continue to refuse. The friend offers again with a more subtle approach; the participant finds a way out. With such practice, education does not remain merely a beautiful poster on a wall. It transforms into a skill that can be utilised when circumstances demand it.
The figures in Indonesia make this issue too significant to be treated as a minor matter. A collaborative survey by the BNN, BRIN, and BPS for the 2023–2025 period recorded the prevalence of narcotics abuse at 2.11 per cent, or approximately 4.15 million people aged 15–64, an increase from 1.73 per cent in 2023. The BNN also identified the 15–24 age group as the most vulnerable, with a prevalence of 2.53 per cent.
However, there is a part of the data that is even more interesting than the total numbers. The BNN noted that the social environment is one of the primary factors linked to the increase in abuse. Consequently, their prevention strategy now focuses not only on enforcement but also on families, schools, universities, villages, and communities.
This means that children do not live in a sterile laboratory. They live in families. They attend school. They make friends. They live in communities. They carry mobile phones. They join chat groups. They consume digital content. They seek recognition. They experience failure. They can feel lonely even while having hundreds of friends on social media.
Therefore, we cannot treat children like computers that simply need an antivirus named “counselling.” Counselling is important. But counselling is only one link in the chain. The first line of defence remains the human connection between person and person.