Canadian Activists: Meth-Fueled Orgies Should Be Celebrated

Harm-reduction proponents support so-called “chemsex,” undermining their supposed commitment to helping addicts.

Crystal meth [Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons]

By Adam Zivo

[This article was originally published in City Journal, a public policy magazine and website published by the Manhattan Institute for Policy Research]

Most reasonable people would agree that meth-fueled orgies are a bad thing, and that having sex with groups of strangers for days on end should be discouraged. Yet some “harm reduction” advocates have suggested that these orgies should be tolerated, perhaps even celebrated. This demonstrates that the harm-reduction movement is more interested in normalizing drug use than mitigating its negative consequences.

Meth-fueled orgies emerged as a policy issue in the mid-2010s, following the popularization of so-called “chemsex” (also known as “party and play” or “PnP”) within the gay community. The term refers to having sex while under the influence of strong psychoactive drugs—typically crystal meth, GHB, or ketamine. Chemsex is associated with riskier behaviors (e.g., group sex, BDSM) and is particularly popular among HIV-positive men.

We don’t have reliable data on the prevalence of chemsex. A series of Canadian and American studies have estimated that between 3 percent and 29 percent of gay men use chemsex-associated drugs, but did not ask participants specifically whether they used the drugs during sex. These studies also have methodological flaws—they recruited their research participants through addiction and STI clinics, or through online surveys, and their subjects were not necessarily representative of gay men as a whole.

But within the gay community, it is common knowledge that chemsex is rampant in some circles. The harms of this practice cannot be overstated: chemsex drugs, particularly meth, can trigger psychosis, homelessness, overdose, or death. Men who pass out at these orgies are sometimes raped by fellow participants. Public-health experts have warned that chemsex parties are fueling a surge in HIV infections among gay men throughout Europe.

One would imagine that taxpayer-funded organizations that specialize in gay men’s health, along with the activists and academics in their orbit, would vociferously oppose chemsex. But they don’t. Instead, many glorify it under the guise of “harm reduction.”

This is particularly true in Canada, where I live. Back in 2019, a handful of the country’s leading harm-reduction activists penned a joint op-ed suggesting that, while “[t]here is no shortage of shitty prejudices against meth use,” the drug can be perfectly safe. “You never hear the stories about how much fun your friend had at his chemsex hook-up because the fear surrounding crystal meth use has created an echo chamber,” they wrote. “To speak casually or in a positive light about using such a vilified drug immediately creates a panic in those who care about you.”

Things have only gotten worse. The AIDS Committee of Toronto (ACT), for example, promotes a chemsex awareness campaign called “Hi My Name Is Tina” (“Tina” is slang for crystal meth) that describes meth-fueled sex as “incredible” and “mind-blowing.” The project website makes almost no effort to dissuade visitors from engaging in such activity and suggests that it can be enjoyed responsibly so long as one gets enough food and sleep. “Tina Sex can be the most amazing sex we’ve ever had, in terms of piggy-ness, being nasty, feeling liberated, wild and unconditionally accepted by your self and others also using Tina,” it explains.

In 2023, ACT published “Safer PnP: From Dusk ‘til Dawn,” an instructional brochure glorifying chemsex. “Loading syringes and prepping in front of others can be difficult and take away your play time, especially if you’re already high. Try to load syringes and premeasure doses earlier than the party,” it advises. Disturbingly, the document is filled with images of healthy-looking men who do not reflect the typical aesthetics of habitual meth users.

That same year, the Gay Men’s Sexual Health Alliance, which includes many publicly funded organizations, published its own similarly framed brochure, called “Your Party & Play Field Guide.” The guide glorifies chemsex and downplays the risk of drug use, effectively comparing it with caffeine consumption:

When you think about PnP, crystal meth and GHB are the drugs that come to mind. These two have a bad reputation that follows them around. Yet, guys still love to party with them — why? Well, sex on these drugs can be hot and intense, not to mention it can last for hours. You feel more connected to people and better about yourself. Of course, there are downsides like dehydration, losing sleep, and increased anxiety.

Last year, I attended a chemsex presentation at a conference geared toward Canadian addiction professionals. The presenter, who worked in gay health care, portrayed meth-fueled orgies as a normal phenomenon that gives people a sense of belonging. He urged clinicians to focus on harm reduction and recognize the positive aspects of drug use. Thanks to meth, he claimed, old and ugly men can hook up with guys who are out of their league—conveniently ignoring the fact that many of these young men trade sex for access to drugs.

While Canada is a global leader in chemsex apologia, it is not alone. An international academic movement called “critical chemsex studies” uses the frameworks of harm reduction and queer theory to glorify meth-fueled orgies.

This movement first emerged in the mid-2010s, after a British documentary on the chemsex underworld sparked public concern. Harm reduction advocates and queer theorists subsequently denounced this “moral panic” in a series of op-eds, asserting in one article that meth-fueled orgies constitute a “form of resistance” and “way of surviving assimilation.”

Scholars who adhere to this view have since argued, across numerous academic papers and books, that chemsex is a “technique of ‘wild self-care’” that can produce “an ethics grounded in our inescapable interconnectedness.” Crystal-hazed condomless gangbangs are, apparently, a “life-affirming cultural practice” that can ensure gay men’s “symbolic and even material survival.” Meantime, activists denounce opponents of chemsex as agents of “moralizing pathologization” who perpetuate “heteronormative” values and “neoliberalism.”

Collectively, these materials provide a glimpse into the soul of the harm reduction movement. Harm reductionists, who have a stranglehold over the HIV/AIDS sector, have articulated their real principles in these documents. Many aspire to enable, even glorify, self-destructive drug use, rather than responsibly manage associated harms.

While the “critical” approach to chemsex has had less traction in the United States, American policymakers should nonetheless be wary of these international developments. Harm reduction radicalism is dangerous—for both gay men and the general public.