Recent commentary regarding Newport’s proposed public health vending machine at Fire Department Headquarters has characterized this initiative as a program that simply “manages addiction.” I believe that characterization misses both the purpose of the program and, more importantly, the people it is intended to help.
At its core, this is about something much more fundamental: the value we place on human life and the kind of community we want Newport to be.
Substance use disorder, homelessness, mental-health challenges, and poverty are complicated issues. There is no vending machine, ordinance, resolution, treatment program, police response, or social service that will solve them alone. But the complexity of these problems should never become a reason for us to do nothing when there are practical steps we can take to protect someone’s health—or potentially save someone’s life.
The public health vending machine 1-year pilot program, that the majority of Council passed earlier this year, is not intended to replace treatment, recovery services, mental-health care, outreach, or personal accountability. Those efforts remain critically important. Harm reduction and recovery should not be viewed as competing philosophies. Sometimes keeping someone alive and healthy today is what gives that person the opportunity to seek treatment tomorrow.
It is also important for residents to understand what this machine actually represents. This is not simply a “drug vending machine” as was recently misrepresented by a local “influencer”. The public health program was designed to potentially provide access to a range of basic health, hygiene, and harm-reduction resources. Those could include soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste, feminine hygiene products, hand sanitizer, first-aid supplies, socks, gloves, blankets, rain ponchos, Narcan, fentanyl testing strips, and educational information about treatment and recovery.
Think for a moment about what some of those items mean to a person who does not have a home, a medicine cabinet, reliable transportation, or even enough money to purchase basic necessities.
A toothbrush may seem insignificant until you do not have one. A pair of clean socks may seem ordinary until you have spent days walking outside in wet shoes. Feminine hygiene products are not a luxury. Neither is first aid. And Narcan can mean the difference between someone having another opportunity at recovery and a family planning a funeral.
That is the humanitarian side of public health.
Newport should be a city that recognizes the dignity of every person who lives here. When we talk about improving quality of life, that commitment cannot apply only to certain neighborhoods, certain income levels, or people whose lives are generally going well. A healthy community is measured in part by how we respond to people when they are at their most vulnerable.
Providing basic health resources does not condone addiction. Compassion does not mean ignoring personal responsibility. And saving someone’s life does not mean giving up on recovery.
Quite the opposite.
It means recognizing that recovery cannot happen if someone does not survive long enough to reach it.
The City Council initially approved this pilot program with the understanding that it would involve collaboration among City Administration, public safety officials, the Newport Prevention Coalition, AIDS Care Ocean State, and other community partners. The program is also intended to be evaluated using actual usage information and community feedback. That is how responsible public policy should work: identify a need, implement a measured response, collect data, evaluate the results, and determine what should happen next.
There will always be legitimate questions about how public programs operate, where they are located, what they cost, and whether they are effective. We should ask those questions. But we should also be careful that disagreement over policy does not cause us to lose sight of the human beings behind the policy.
Newport is one community. Our responsibility is to work toward a city that is safe, healthy, compassionate, and livable for all of our residents.
Sometimes improving quality of life means major investments in housing, education, infrastructure, public safety, treatment, and economic opportunity.
And sometimes it begins with something as simple as making sure a neighbor has clean socks, basic hygiene supplies, access to lifesaving medication, and the knowledge that their community has not given up on them.
Steph Smyth
Newport City Councilor At-Large
