Drugs During Collapse

During periods of stress, people reach for drugs. Alcohol, cannabis, opium, stimulants, antidepressants, substances that numb, fortify, or alter the mind have always pacified people during crises. In an age of climate-driven collapse, should drugs be embraced as relief?

This discussion is intended as analysis only. Nothing here should be taken as instruction or encouragement to use illegal substances. Any description of drug effects or withdrawal is informational. Use of medications should be done legally and under medical supervision.

Substance use in crisis is nothing new. History shows drugs can sustain and destroy in equal measure, and have been used to stoke aggression and suppress depression.

Nazi Germany gave troops methamphetamine to fuel blitzkrieg. The Allies handed out amphetamines too. Fear and fatigue were pushed aside, but addiction and breakdown followed, and there is evidence that amphetamine abuse among Nazi leadership clouded judgment and contributed to increasingly poor and erratic decision making. Japan’s wartime meth stockpile led to a postwar epidemic among its war-torn population.

Alcohol has been a battlefield staple from Roman legions to Soviet soldiers. Vodka rations boosted morale but also made troops violent and unpredictable. In 1945 Berlin, drunken soldiers committed mass atrocities, including widespread rape, looting, and violence against civilians. During the U.S. Civil War, morphine eased battlefield agony but left thousands addicted. In 19th century China, Britain flooded the country with opium, weakening society and making it easier to dominate. American traders used whiskey against Native Americans in much the same way. These examples show that drugs relieve pain or give short term strength, but often leave individuals and societies weaker.

Individual Coping

Not all drugs are the same. Prescriptions like SSRIs can stabilize mental health, but they depend on fragile supply chains. Withdrawal can bring dizziness, insomnia, brain zaps, and crushing depression, often leaving people unable to function for days or weeks and making survival tasks almost impossible.

Alcohol is easy to make and familiar, and a drink can ease stress or bring people together. But excess impairs judgment and can fuel violence. Cannabis can reduce anxiety, help with sleep, and ease pain. It can even be grown locally, though heavy use can dull focus or motivation.

Opioids are unmatched for pain relief, vital for injuries or hospice-level suffering, but they are also highly addictive and dangerous when unregulated. Stimulants like amphetamines or meth can push endurance for a while, but they come with paranoia, aggression, and crashes that few can afford.

Coffee or tea may be the only safe stimulants.

When the world faces terminal destruction, who is to decide when pros outweigh the cons? Who determines what is "safe"?

One way to think about collapse in comparison to hospice care. And as in hospice care, an alternate set of rules preside.

In hospice, comfort replaces cure, and drugs like morphine ease suffering even if they shorten life. If climate collapse is terminal, shouldn't societies and individuals be allowed to adopt the same stance, relax prohibitions, and let people face the end with less pain.

Denying relief when survival is no longer possible seems cruel. But declaring hospice too early risks surrender when survival is still possible.

Wide use of intoxicants can strip away dignity and the ability to adapt, even if temporarily. Comfort is humane, but sedation on a large scale risks becoming control (or lack of control). A middle ground might be to allow substances where suffering is severe while encouraging resilience for those who can continue.

Again, who is to determine this?

Suppressing Feelings Pre-Collapse

There are already signs of collapse for those paying attention, but day to day life is still normal enough. However, those anticipating the worst may require medication to cope with the knowledge. Many in this community take prescribed anti-anxiety medicine, which works for today.

What happens when supply of this medication runs out? Someone on SSRIs might be functional one day and incapacitated when supply is cut off.

Similarily, heavy drinkers forced into sudden withdrawal can suffer seizures or even die without medical care. Opioid withdrawal brings fever, vomiting, and convulsions that can push people to desperate measures.

History shows what happens when supply is disrupted. After World War II, Japan faced a meth epidemic as military stockpiles flooded the streets, then collapsed into shortages, leaving hundreds of thousands addicted and forcing authorities to impose harsh crackdowns that jailed many and drove others into black markets.

During Hurricane Maria, disrupted opioid supplies in Puerto Rico led to overdoses and medical emergencies, often because people turned to unfamiliar or adulterated substitutes to avoid withdrawal when regular supplies were cut off. During COVID-19, drugs became scarcer but also deadlier, as people turned to tainted substitutes. Dependence is fragile, and in collapse the harder a society leans on substances, the worse the fall when they vanish.

Political scientist Peter Andreas, a professor at Brown University who has written extensively on the politics of drugs and conflict, calls drugs in crisis a double-edged sword. They extend human limits and ease pain, but they also corrode discipline and erode societies.

Public health researchers warn that disasters, from hurricanes to pandemics, fuel spikes in substance use. Trauma drives people to drink and drugs, while disruption makes drugs more toxic. Their advice is harm reduction. Maintain substitution therapies when possible, provide safe access, and keep mental health supports alive. Of course, over time the ability to do this will deteriorate leaving people on their own to plan.

Ethicists looking at extinction medicine argue that if collapse is unavoidable, easing suffering may matter more than prolonging life. But until that point, resilience and non-chemical coping, such as exercise, meditation, storytelling, and building strong community bonds, should come first.

But how does one know when suffering outweighs resilience?