Dream of — and Stand Up for — Human Rights
My newly released book, Cover My Dreams in Ink, tells the story of the life and the fatal overdose of my son, Paul. Even though it recounts our journey, I wanted to impart more than a knowledge of the struggles and hardships that we faced. In truth, I hoped the book would provide a deepened understanding of the intersection of drug use and human rights and the implications for injustices suffered by so many.
As I now read early reviews, my hopes are exceeded by statements that include:
“There are few books I have read that have totally changed the way I think about an issue. This is one of those books.”
“Multiple systems failed Paul... Jessie Dunleavy brings this to light and hopefully saves lives by doing so.”
“‘Cover My Dreams in Ink’ inspires us to become better informed about these issues so that we can help bring about needed reforms.”
“Dunleavy's work is an essential read for parents, educators, counselors, and maybe most importantly, for policymakers. Dunleavy describes her son's journey through the tangled systems of education, healthcare, various institutions—and the downward funnel that can swallow people who cannot escape suffering and addiction.”
Learning about the many systems that failed Paul, along with the ways in which he was marginalized by his disabilities, clarifies the source of despair that can lead to self-medicating—a choice that initially offers needed relief, and then tragically escalates misery to a degree otherwise unknown. As readers travel the journey alongside this endearing and gentle soul, I believe they internalize compassion over scorn and instinctively reject the knee-jerk habit of rushing to judgment in regard to disabilities, substance use, or any other way in which fellow humans may struggle to cope. With this insight, which also defies labeling Paul as a moral failure, comes a universal truth: Good people can fall victim to circumstances beyond their control, calling for compassion rather than shaming and self-condemnation. While Paul’s story paints a picture of his unique path, it also conveys a reality shared by countless others: His suffering was compounded by societal attitudes—subjecting him to mistreatment, humiliation, exploitation, and even hunger.
What I came to know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, and am determined to share in any way I can, is that the war on drugs sanctions abuse and is, at its core, an insidious violation of human rights. I am far from alone in this understanding. In addition to national organizations such as the Drug Policy Alliance that work tirelessly and brilliantly to advance the values of a just and humane society, there are international forces at work.
Just last year, the United Nations issued a position report, summarizing a ten-year analysis of drug-related matters and culminating with the unequivocal declaration that punitive policies are wrong in every way. “Abusive, repressive, and disproportionate drug control policies and laws are counterproductive, while also violating human rights, undercutting public health, and wasting vital public resources.” Mirroring the conclusions of research scientists throughout the world, this United Nations report advocates for health care over punishment and champions harm reduction initiatives that are patient-centered and humanistic.
In tandem with the World Health Organization and a coalition of the world’s leading experts, the UN subsequently published the International Guidelines on Human Rights and Drug Policy that urges action to reduce the harms of current policies. Then, in the spring of 2020, Amnesty International sounded an alarm, prompted by investigations of governments from Cambodia to the Philippines, clarifying its long-awaited stance: “Across the world, the so-called war on drugs has failed. But there are clear alternatives based on scientific evidence that better protect human rights . . . authorities must consign the abusive policies of arbitrary detention and criminalization to history, and embrace a compassionate and effective new era of drug policy.”
These unrivaled human rights organizations have broken the silence. So have other modern countries to a greater degree than the U.S. When will we stand up for the principle of human rights and support health care over the current practices—fueled and perpetuated by the war on drugs—that sanction abuse of those who suffer? As we recognize the responsibility to promote compassion over punishment, we could start by releasing those incarcerated for non-violent drug offenses, devoting the resources to much-needed medical care and harm reduction services.
Paul’s death was preventable. He fell victim to senseless regulations and ignorance. As portrayed throughout Paul’s story, and clarified in the Epilogue of Cover My Dreams in Ink, a factual understanding of addiction—from the science to the legislation and the current state of treatment options—is of life-saving importance and essential for needed reform.
In honor of Paul and all those lost to accidental overdose fatalities—and in recognition of the other aims of the upcoming International Drug Overdose Awareness Day on August 31st—let’s stand up for human rights and end the war on drugs.