A podcast and a comment on a London Tube line one morning made me acutely aware of the disconnect in how we discuss addiction.
The podcast was an episode of featuring mental health and addiction specialists compassionately exploring the struggles and death of Rolling Stones member Brian Jones through the lens of his childhood, environment and trauma. The comment was a muttered word, 鈥渏unkie鈥�, directed at a man asking for money in our carriage. That word overshadowed the more profound questions in the podcast: What led this man to his situation? How was a complex tangle of societal issues reduced to a tale of personal failure?
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I wondered if the passenger would have said the same to me because, technically speaking, I鈥檓 a 鈥渏unkie鈥� too 鈥� I鈥檓 just one of the lucky ones that got sober.
With September dedicated to , we need to reconsider how every headline, film and celebrity scandal shapes our understanding of addiction, especially when claiming to tell 鈥渢rue stories鈥�.
Take biopics. These films, marketed as reflections of reality, wield enormous influence over public perceptions of addiction. This is borne out by a 2023 showing the content we consume shapes how we view and treat the condition. It highlights the effect of media in solidifying societal attitudes, and suggests repeated exposure to these portrayals can make it increasingly difficult to shift entrenched opinions.
Back to Black, for example, reduces Amy Winehouse to the 鈥渢roubled artist鈥� stereotype, ignoring the complexities of her addiction and mental health. Bohemian Rhapsody depicts Freddie Mercury鈥檚 addiction as a personal failing.
The issue isn鈥檛 just what鈥檚 shown on screen, but what鈥檚 left out. By neglecting to address root causes, films often reduce addiction to a series of poor choices, lack of values and weakness. This kind of framing not only reinforces damaging stereotypes but also contributes to a cultural landscape that dehumanises those who have problems with drug use. Worse yet, it influences policies that focus on punishment rather than rehabilitation, ignoring the more complex realities of addiction.
These films are just one part of an overwhelming messaging machine of misinformation. Tabloids turn struggles to clickbait; government campaigns, such as the UK鈥檚 initiative, which included scenes of a girl vomiting, stoke shame; schools dish out outdated and simplistic education materials. It鈥檚 a relentless flood of warped ideas, leaving the public adrift in a sea of misconceptions.
This misalignment has real-world consequences. The US opioid crisis shows how impacts policy, with one study finding that racial bias disproportionately hindered harm reduction strategies in Black and Hispanic communities. In the UK, high addiction rates in and focus on over prevention about misallocated funding, leaving mental health and ongoing support deprioritised.
The and have advocated for a holistic approach to addiction treatment, one that addresses underlying issues like poverty, social isolation, mental health and trauma, rather than merely treating symptoms. The aim is to break the cycle and support long-term recovery.
Of course film-makers aren鈥檛 responsible for public health, but choosing to tell the whole story of addiction could alter perceptions. While the stories of celebrities and the person on the tube may seem worlds apart, they are threads in the same tapestry. And prioritising truth over drama can save lives.
Anna Wolfe is a freelance聽journalist based in London
