a day ago
Peter Krykant spoke from Scotland to the world – but work isn't done
Peter Krykant stepped into that void.
Peter first caught my attention when he openly dared to break the law by opening a safe consumption space. I was working to end the drug war in the United States at the time, lobbying Congress and the White House, and Peter's actions were galvanising.
'How a Man With a Van Is Challenging UK Drug Policy' was how the New York Times described Peter in a 2020 article. His actions were inspiring. I was reminded of the civil disobedience of the racial justice movement of the 1960s, of the ability to make the law – this seemingly entrenched part of society – look cruel, unjust, and stupid.
Peter Krykant in his safe consumption van"I obviously don't want to be arrested, but I'm willing to put myself in that position and I think it'll only reflect badly on the government if that happens," he told the BBC. His bravery was enlivening.
It was not just his boldness that caught my attention; it was also the other aspects that drove him. Peter never chose to work on drug policy. He had lived experience. He knew first-hand the stigma that comes with using drugs, where terms like 'junkie' or 'fiend' are common parlance, even in the media. His battle was not just with politicians; but with society itself.
He showed us all the value of centring people with lived experience when it comes to changing policy.
In a social media post a week ago discussing overdose death, Peter lamented: 'I lost my first family member when I was 15, my uncle. Then my cousin around 17 years ago. Another cousin December 2018, my aunt and uncle's only child, then in September 2021 the youngest death, my cousin who left a 5-year-old daughter.
'I carried his coffin. His daughter standing over the grave asking when daddy would be back, it doesn't get any easier.'
(Image: Twitter/Peter Krykant) The politicians feared him because he did not cower. Invites to meet with the first minister or calls with other leaders, attention from the media, a rise in profile, these things can often make someone play the political game of access, plaudits, and incremental change. Not Peter. He continued to speak truth to power and call them out for inaction. He didn't care who he offended or if an invite was rescinded. His was a crusade to save his friends and family.
When I started to write about Scottish drug policy, I felt a sense of imposter syndrome, as someone who was not living in Scotland. A good friend connected me with Peter, who was then always there to help guide me.
I asked him about what impacted people were asking for, what policy changes he wanted, and included them in my articles. When we finally met at the International Drug Policy Reform Conference in Arizona in October 2023, he was warm, full of banter and good chat, reminding me of friends I miss from back home.
READ MORE: Peter Krykant: Scotland must act on drug deaths even if the UK won't
Peter and I were not especially close, but in recent months, his social media posts revealed someone who was struggling and there is now guilt that I could have reached out to connect again amid his challenges. I am sure those closer to him feel similar.
His legacy is centring impacted voices in the drug policy debate and advancing a saner drug policy in Scotland, notably the opening of a legal safe consumption room in Glasgow. But his fight goes on.
Drug deaths are astronomical – and the day after he died one Scottish newspaper led its front page with the headline 'Safe drugs room sparks 175 complaints on needles litter'. Peter would have torn this newspaper apart for its NIMBYism, the stigma, and the desire to lambast a life-saving intervention because of litter complaints when drug deaths have just risen by a third.
Peter's legacy is strong, and he will be sorely missed across the globe, but the hard work remains.
Michael Collins is a native Glaswegian who lives in Atlanta. He is the former director for national affairs at Drug Policy Alliance.
