Should We Pity Addicts?

10 June 2026 Should We Pity Addicts?

10 June 2026 Should We Pity Addicts?

Bahar SabaBahar Saba

“For a bowl of rice ... you were made to crawl and bark.”

“For a bowl of rice... you were forced to crawl and bark”.

These words, spoken by Ahmad, a survivor of a drug detention camp called Shourabad in Kerman, painfully and vividly reveal the dehumanizing violence endured by people who, over the past decades, have been forced into such camps.[1] Although a significant number of people in Iran have passed through the justice system on drug-related charges, or have been compelled into rehabilitation camps, their suffering and their experiences of violence have scarcely been recorded.

These words by Ahmad, a survivor of a drug camp called Shourabad in Kerman, painfully yet vividly illustrate the dehumanising violence suffered by people who have been forced into these camps over the past decades.[1] While a significant number of people have passed through Iran’s Justice system in relation to drug offences or have been forced into rehabilitation camps, their suffering and experiences of violence have barely been registered.

Language and images construct the frames through which we apprehend others, perceive their suffering, and decide whether and how to respond to it. They are essential elements in the formation of the “notion of recognizable human”[2]: the human whose injury or death provokes moral revulsion, grief, and a demand for action. Dehumanizing language and representation often precede and accompany the mistreatment of groups of people, and even genocide and the annihilation of an entire people. They facilitate such destruction by first making the humanity, individuality, connectedness, and mutual dependence of those marked for destruction easy to ignore, even easy to deny. They make the work of those who oppress, torture, and kill easier; in their eyes, those upon whom cruelty is inflicted are not really, not fully human, while society as a whole loses its moral revulsion before such atrocities.

Language and images construct the frames through which we apprehend others, see their suffering and choose whether and how to respond to it. They are key components of how the “notion of recognizable human”[2], one whose injury or loss of life causes moral revulsion, grief, and a call to action, is formed. Dehumanising language and representations often precede and accompany mistreatment of groups of people and even genocide and the annihilation of an entire people. They facilitate such destruction by first making the humanity, individuality, interconnectedness and interdependence of those who are to be destroyed easily ignorable and even deniable. They make the work of those oppressing, torturing, and killing easier, as in their eyes, those they subject to cruelty are not really and truly human while the society as a whole loses its moral revulsion towards such atrocities.

State violence has marked the past four decades of life in Iran. There is hardly any group, apart from those who have remained strictly loyal to the system and its ideologies, that has not fallen victim to it. Among these groups, people who use illicit substances have remained among the most marginalized, both in life and in the violent deaths imposed on them by the state. They were among the first groups stripped of the protection of law after the 1979 Revolution. Hundreds were subjected to extrajudicial and summary executions shortly after the Revolution, and thousands more were killed in the years that followed. The Omid Memorial[3] has painstakingly recorded 5,846 executions and, wherever possible, the names and stories of those whose lives have been taken for drug-related offenses since 1979. Undoubtedly, many more names and stories remain to be recorded and remembered. Those spared the gallows have been subjected to cruel and torturous treatment. Some have been sent to forced-labor camps, digging trenches along the borders in harsh conditions; others have been banished to an “island,” isolated from the rest of humanity.[4] Many have been sent to “rehabilitation” camps where they have been deprived of the most basic necessities, including food, water, and access to toilets. Beatings and humiliation have remained commonplace methods of treatment in these camps. Despite changes in Iran’s drug policy over recent decades, the dehumanization of people who use substances persists. What is the nexus between the language, images, and treatment that dehumanize people who use substances and the violence committed against them, and why should all of us care how people who use drugs are depicted?

State violence has characterised the past four decades of life in Iran. There hardly exists any group, other than those remaining strictly faithful to the system and its ideologies, who has not fallen victim to State violence. Of these groups, people who use illicit substances have remained among the most marginalised, both in life and in the violent deaths the State has imposed on them. They were among the first groups of people who were removed from the protection of the law following the 1979 Revolution. Hundreds were subjected to extrajudicial and summary executions shortly after the Revolution and thousands more were killed in the years to come. The Omid Memorial[3] has painstakingly recorded 5846 executions and, where possible, the names and stories of those whose lives have been taken for drug related offences since 1979. Undoubtedly, there remain many more names and stories that are yet to be recorded and remembered. Those who have been spared the gallows, have been subjected to cruel and tortuous treatments. Some have been sent to forced labour camps, digging trenches at borders in harsh conditions, and some banished into an “island” isolated from the rest of humanity.[4] Many have been sent into ‘rehabilitation’ camps where they have been deprived of the most basic necessities such as food and water and access to toilets. Beatings and humiliation have remained commonplace methods of treatment in these camps. Despite changes in Iran’s drug policy over the past decades, dehumanisation of people who use substances persists. What is the nexus between language, images and treatment that dehumanise people who use substances and the violence that is committed against them and why should we all care about the manner in which people who use drugs are depicted?

Dehumanization and Its ConsequencesDehumanisation and its consequences

Dehumanization has been defined in numerous ways.[5] Here, I ground my definition in Butler’s concept of grievability. In Butler’s words, “Some lives are grievable, and others are not; differential allocation of grievability that decides what kind of subject is and must be grieved, and which kind of subjects must not, operates to produce and maintain certain exclusionary conceptions of who is normatively human; what counts as livable life and a grievable death.”[6] This differential allocation of grievability means that some lives, those not apprehended as living in the first place, those who are “neither alive nor dead but interminably spectral,”[7] cannot possibly be perceived as lost or injured. This grievability rests upon an already “established field of perceptible reality,”[8] of which images and language that dehumanize certain groups of people are an inseparable part.

Dehumanisation is defined in numerous ways.[5] Here, I ground my definition of dehumanisation in Bulter’s concept of grievability. In the words of Bulter “Some lives are grievable, and others are not; differential allocation of grievability that decides what kind of subject is and must be grieved, and which kind of subjects must not, operates to produce and maintain certain exclusionary conceptions of who is normatively human; what counts as livable life and a grievable death.”[6] This differential allocation of grievability means that some lives, those that are not apprehended as living in the first place, those who are “neither alive nor dead but interminable spectral”[7] cannot possibly be perceived as lost or injured. This grievability is built upon an already “established field of perceptible reality”[8], of which images and language dehumanising certain groups of people are part and parcel.

Dehumanization, then, enables us to conceive of certain groups of people as subhuman creatures.[9] Perceptions of others as subhuman or less than human are conveyed, perpetuated, and strengthened through language and visual representations that depict them as such. These representations establish the norms governing who counts as human, and render us insensible when lives deemed ungrievable are eradicated. Dehumanization has deep historical roots, but its manifestations follow similar patterns across centuries, continents, and countries. Those targeted by dehumanizing rhetoric are often described as impure, filthy, repulsive, animalistic, and as sources of disease that can easily contaminate the rest of society. Accordingly, they are frequently portrayed through images or textual descriptions that evoke “vermin” and “pests.” Dehumanized groups are also routinely depicted as inherently criminal and essentially predatory, beings who, if given the chance, will attack and destroy.

Dehumanisation, therefore, enables us to conceive of certain groups of people as subhuman creatures.[9] Perceptions of others as subhuman or less human are conveyed, perpetuated and strengthened through the use of language and visual representations that depict them as such. They establish the norms that govern who is a human and make us senseless when lives that are not considered grievable are eradicated. Dehumanisation has long historical roots but its manifestation takes similar patterns across centuries, continents and countries. Those who are the target of dehumanising rhetoric are often described as impure, filthy, repulsive, animalistic and as sources of disease that can easily pollute the rest of the society. As such, they are frequently portrayed by images or textual descriptions that connotate ‘vermin’ and ‘pests’. Dehumanised groups are also routinely depicted as inherently criminal and essentially predatory, who, if given the chance, will attack and destroy.

The ultimate message of such representations is that those who pose such threats to “humanity” not only may be eliminated, but should be. As Butler writes, “When a population appears as a direct threat to my life, they do not appear as ‘lives,’ but as the threat to life.”[10] It is therefore no surprise that dehumanization and dehumanizing rhetoric have loomed large in some of the most horrific atrocities in our history. In the 1994 Rwandan genocide, in which an estimated one million people, the overwhelming majority of them Tutsi, were brutally killed, the targeted group had long been dehumanized before the killing began. Before the genocide and during its unfolding, Hutu propaganda, especially Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM), allied with government leaders, routinely and systematically described Tutsis as “cockroaches” and “snakes,” inciting the Hutu population to eradicate the menace.

The ultimate message of such representations is that those posing such threats to ‘humanity’ not only could, but should be eliminated. As Butler says “When a population appears as a direct threat to my life, they do not appear as ‘lives,’ but as the threat to life.”[10] It thus comes as no surprise that dehumanisation and dehumanising rhetoric have loomed large in some of the most horrific atrocities in our history. In the Rwanda Genocide of 1994, in which an estimated one million people, the overwhelming majority of whom were Tutsis, were brutally killed, the target group had been dehumanised long before the acts of killing took place. Prior to the genocide and while it was unfolding, Hutu propaganda, in particular Radio Télévision Libre de Mille Collines (the RTLM), allied with leaders of the government, routinely and systematically described the Tutsi as ‘cockroaches’ and ‘snakes’ inciting the Hutu population to eradicate the manance.

Perhaps the most documented and vivid example of the dehumanization of a people is the Holocaust. The dehumanization of Jews, deeply rooted in centuries of antisemitism, played a central role in the Nazi program to annihilate the Jewish people. The representation of Jews as “filthy swine,” “rats,” and “parasites consumed by money,” in films, posters, and elsewhere, transformed them into subhuman creatures in whose destruction society was willing to take an active part, or toward which it chose, at best, to remain insensible and silent.

Perhaps, the most documented and vivid example of dehumanisation of a people is the Holocoust. Dehumanisation of Jews, deep rooted in centruties of anti-semitism, played a central role in the Nazi programme of annihilating the Jewish people. Representation of the Jewish people as ‘dirty swines’, ‘rats’, and ‘parasites consumed by money’ in films and posters, among others, had turned Jews into subhuman creatures in whose destruction the society was willing to take an active part or at best chose to remain senseless and silent towards it.

Dehumanization through rhetoric facilitates violence against those who are no longer seen as human. This violence, in turn, perpetuates and facilitates dehumanization. The process by which human beings are transformed into subhumans is illustrated in an interview Gitta Sereny conducted with Franz Stangl, the former commandant of Treblinka. In that interview, Stangl describes the process by which, for him, Jewish victims of the Holocaust were transformed from human beings into “cargo”; this happened, he says, after standing beside “pits full of blue-black corpses.” The indignity with which the remains had been piled upon one another made Stangl believe that this could have nothing to do with “humanity,” that “it was a mass - a mass of rotting flesh.” He elaborated further: “I rarely saw them as individuals. It was always a huge mass. I sometimes stood on the wall and saw them in the tube. But - how can I explain it - they were naked, packed together, running ...”[11]

Dehumanisation, through rhetoric, facilitates violence upon those who are no longer seen as human. This violence in turn perpetuates and facilitates dehumanisation. The process of transformation from human to subhuman is illustrated in an interview Gitta Sereny conducted with Franz Stangl, the ex-commander of Treblinka. In this interview, Stangl speaks about the process in which for him Jewish victim of the Holocaust had turned from human beings into “cargo”; that is after standing next to “pits full of blue-black corpses.” The indignity with which the remains had been piled on top of each other made Stangl believe that this could not have anything to do with “humanity” and that “it was a mass - a mass of rotting flesh”. He further elaborated that, “I rarely saw them as individuals. It was always a huge mass. I sometimes stood on the wall and saw them in the tube. But – how can I explain it – they were naked, packed together, running…”[11]

Primo Levi, the Italian Jewish chemist, writer, and Holocaust survivor, refers to this interview in his book The Drowned and the Saved, where he writes about “useless violence,” which he explains as violence carried out “as an end in itself, with the sole purpose of inflicting pain.” He recounts numerous examples of the extreme violence inflicted upon Jews in concentration camps and during transport to the camps, treatment he says was intended to declare that neither they nor their remains were human. He recalls an excerpt from the interview in which Sereny asks Stangl, “Considering that you were going to kill them all ... what was the point of the humiliation, the cruelties?” Stangl replies: “To condition those who were to be the material executors of the operations. To make it possible for them to do what they were doing.” As Levi concludes, “before dying, the victim must be degraded, so that the murderer will be less burdened by guilt.”[12] This, in his words, is “the sole usefulness of useless violence.”

Primo Levi, Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor makes a reference to this interview in his book, Drowned and the Saved, where he writes about “useless violence”, what he elaborates on as violence that is carried out “as an end in itself, with the sole purpose of inflicting pain.” He recounts numerous examples of the extremely violent treatment of Jews in concentration camps and while being transported to the camps, a treatment he states was intended to declare that neither they nor their remains were human. He recounts an excerpt of the interview in which Sereny asks Stangl, “Considering that you were going to kill them all… what was the point of the humiliation, the cruelties?” To this Stangl replies, “to condition those who were to be the material executors of the operators. To make it possible for them to do what they were doing.” As Levi concludes, “before dying, the victim must be degraded, so that the murderer will be less burdened by guilt.”[12] This, in his words, “is the sole usefulness of useless violence”.

The Dehumanization of People Who Use Drugs in Iran Through Language and Visual Representation

Dehumanisation of people who use drugs in Iran through language and visual representation

While dehumanizing representations, especially the use of language that demeans and dehumanizes persecuted individuals and groups in Iran such as Baha’is, ethnic minorities, and the LGBTI community, have rightly received some attention, though far more remains to be done, similar representations of certain marginalized groups, including people who use illicit substances, have largely been neglected. Indeed, the use of such language in relation to people who use drugs has become so normalized that it may not even be registered or noticed as dehumanizing.

While dehumanising representations, in particular the use of language that demeans and dehumanises persecuted individuals and groups in Iran such as Baha’is, ethnic minorities and the LGBTI community, has rightly received some level of attention (although much more needs to be done) similar representations of certain marginalised groups such as people who use illicit substances have largely gone neglected. In fact, the use of such language when it comes to people who use drugs has become so normalised that it may not even be registered and noticed as dehumanising.

A simple online search for the word “addict” brings up page after page of images that depict people who use substances in the most undignified manner. In these images, individuals are often shown in groups, in masses, squatting or sitting in street corners, back alleys, or under bridges, clustered together. They are generally depicted in torn and unclean clothing, their heads bowed. Some are shown while using a substance, cigarettes in hand. Some are visibly unwell, lying on the ground and showing withdrawal symptoms, or possibly under the severe influence of the substance they have taken. Other images show law enforcement conducting raids, arresting people, and transferring them elsewhere. In many of these images, people are seen covering their faces with their hands or clothing, clearly demonstrating that they do not want their images taken and published. Nevertheless, such images fill the pages of all major media outlets publishing news items about people who use drugs in Iran.

A simple online search of the word “addict” brings up pages after pages filled with images depicting people who use substances in the most undignified manner. In these images, individuals are often seen in groups, in masses, squatting or sitting in corners of streets, back alleys or under bridges clumped together. They are generally depicted in torn and unclean attire with their heads down. Some are depicted while using a substance, with cigarettes in their hands. Some are visibly unwell, lying down on the ground and showing withdrawal symptoms or are possibly under severe influence of the substance they have taken. Other images show law enforcement conducting raids, arresting and transferring people. In many of these images people are seen covering their faces either by their hands or their clothing, clearly demonstrating an unwillingness for their images to be taken and published. They nonetheless fill the pages of all major media outlets publishing news pieces on people who use drugs in Iran.

Although in many cases, though not all, these outlets blur or conceal individuals’ faces in order not to reveal their identities, the simple tactic of blurring faces does very little to mitigate the grave and far-reaching consequences of the persistent publication of such images. In fact, blurring the faces of people who are depicted only in masses and in this manner itself contributes to the process of stripping them of individuality. The publication of these photographs shows very little respect for the agency of people who use drugs. The photographs are plainly taken while individuals are in an extremely vulnerable state, in which consent, even if sought, may not necessarily be informed or genuine. Moreover, the manner in which people are photographed in these images deprives them of individuality. People who use illicit substances are depicted as “filthy” “masses,” lumped together in the streets: a flock of undesirable subhumans, emptied of agency and individuality.

Although in many instances - albeit not all - these outlets blur and conceal the faces of individuals in order to not reveal their identities, a simple tactic of blurring their faces, does very little to alleviate the grave and far-reaching consequences of the persistent publication of such images. In fact, the blurring of the faces of people who are only depicted in masses and in this manner, in itself contributes to the process of deindividualising them. The publication of these photos demonstrates very little respect to the agency of people who use drugs. These photos are clearly taken while individuals are in an extremely vulnerable state in which consent, even if sought, may not necessarily be informed and genuine. Moreover, the manner in which people in these images are pictured deindividualises them. People who use illicit substances are depicted as ‘filthy’ ‘masses’, lumped together on the streets; a flock of undesirable subhumans void of agency and individuality.

A similar search for the word or words “addict” or “flagrant addict” yields an endless list of pages in which officials, including prosecutors, police, and municipal authorities, discuss those they describe as “flagrant addicts” in dehumanizing language. A large number of these references belong to media interviews or announcements reporting the “removal of addicts from the streets.” The terms and phrases used in these statements often evoke “stray animals,” “vermin,” “filth,” and “disease.” Numerous statements and announcements, for example, promise people that their streets have been “cleansed” of “the filth of drug addicts” or of their “dirty existence.” In these statements, which become more prevalent before special occasions such as Nowruz, when people travel across the country, people who use substances are “gathered” or “collected” from the streets, or “released” back into them, as though they were garbage or vermin that pollute and contaminate the city, not only figuratively but literally.

A similar search of the word/s “addict” or “flagrant addict” brings an endless list of pages in which officials, including prosecutors, police and municipality officials, discuss whom they described as “flagrant addicts” with dehumanising language. A large number of these references belong to media interviews or announcements reporting on the “removal of addicts from the streets.” The terms and phrases used in these statements often connotate “stray animals” “vermins”, “filth, and “disease”. For example, numerous statements and announcements promise people that their streets have been “cleansed” from “the filth of drug addicts” or from their “dirty existence”. In these statements, which become more prevalent before special occasions such as Norouz when people travel across the country, people who use substances are “gathered” or “collected” from the streets or are “released” back into them as if they were ‘garbage’ or ‘vermin’ that pollute and contaminate the city, not only figuratively but literally.

What might a dehumanizing attitude toward people who use illicit substances lead to? The extrajudicial killings of possibly tens of thousands of people in the Philippines at the hands of police forces and vigilantes under Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs offer a vivid and devastating example of the interconnection between dehumanization and mass atrocities against people who use substances. Duterte’s explicit instructions to police and citizens to kill anyone connected to the drug trade were accompanied by the dehumanization of people who use drugs, especially through their portrayal as the “living dead,” “the walking dead,” and “zombies.”[13] Such representations depict people who use drugs not only as a menace to society, but as beings who are not truly living and thus cannot be grieved if lost. Indeed, Philippine authorities have explicitly stated that their war on drugs cannot possibly constitute crimes against humanity because those who use drugs are not part of humanity. In 2016, responding to allegations by international human rights organizations and the UN, Duterte asked: “[W]hat crime against humanity? In the first place, I’d like to be frank with you, are they (drug users) humans? What is your definition of a human being? Tell me.”[14] Similar statements have been routinely repeated by other state officials. In 2017, for example, Justice Secretary Vitaliano Aguirre II stated that “drug lords,” “drug addicts,” and “drug pushers” are “not humanity”; and in February 2018, Senate Majority Floor Leader Vicente Sotto III, responding to the International Criminal Court’s preliminary examination of the situation in the Philippines,[15] stated: “I think that the charge can’t be. When you say ‘crimes against humanity,’ who is the humanity being mentioned? Are drug pushers and stubborn drug users considered part of humanity?”[16]

What could dehumanisation attitude towards people who use illicit substances lead to? The extrajudicial killings of possibly tens of thousands of people in the Philippines in the hands of police forces and vigilantes under Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs, is a vivid and devastating example of the interconnectedness of dehumanisation and mass atrocities against people who use substances. Duterte’s clear instructions to the police and citizens to kill anyone connected to the drug trade has been accompanied with dehumanisation of people who use drugs, in particular through their portrayal as the “living dead”, “the walking dead” and “zombies”.[13] Such representations not only depict people who use drugs as a menace to the society, but as beings who are not truly living and thus cannot be grieved if lost. In fact, the Philippines’ authorities have explicitly stated that their war on drugs cannot possibly constitute crimes against humanity as those who use drugs are not part of humanity. In 2016, Duterte - responding to the allegations by international human rights organisations and the UN - asked “[W]hat crime against humanity? In the first place, I’d like to be frank with you, are they (drug users) humans? What is your definition of a human being? Tell me.”[14] Similar statements have been routinely repeated by other state officials. For example in 2017, Justice Secretary, Vitaliano Aguirre II, stated “drug lords, drug addicts’ and ‘drug pushers’ are ‘not humanity’, while in February 2018, Senate Majority Floor leader, Vicente Sotto III - responding to the International Criminal Court’s preliminary examination to the situation in the Philippine[15] stated, “I think that the charge can’t be. When you say “crimes against humanity”, who is the humanity being mentioned? Are drug pushers and stubborn drug users considered part of humanity?”[16]

Iran’s drug policy has seen improvements since the early days of the Revolution. More harm-reduction-oriented policies have since been adopted. Nonetheless, Iran’s drug policy remains heavily punitive and in violation of international law. Over the past few decades, thousands of people have been executed for drug-related offenses in flagrant breach of international law and standards. They have been tried in Revolutionary Courts in proceedings that violated the most basic guarantees of a fair trial, and for years they were denied even the right to appeal their death sentences. Although legal changes have led to a decrease in the number of drug-related executions, the death penalty for certain drug offenses remains in place and continues to be used in violation of Iran’s international obligations.

Iran’s drug policy has seen improvements from the early days of the Revolution. More harm-reduction oriented policies have been adopted since. Nonetheless, Iran’s drug policy remains heavily punitive and in violation of international law. Over the past few decades, thousands of people have been executed for drug-related offences in flagrant breach of international law and standards. They have been tried in Revolutionary Courts in proceedings that violated the most basic guarantees of fair trial and for years, they were denied even the right to appeal their death sentences. Although there have been changes in the law resulting in a decrease in the number of drug-related executions, the death penalty for certain drug offences has remained in place and continues to be used in violation of Iran’s international obligations.

Moreover, substance use continues to be criminalized,[17] and individuals identified as “addicts” are required to seek treatment in government or private rehabilitation centers, many of which, because of inadequate oversight, are illegal and effectively underground. Individuals who use illicit substances are generally admitted to rehabilitation camps without their consent, either by the authorities or by their families. Human rights organizations have raised serious concerns about the compatibility of the rehabilitation methods used in these camps with international human rights standards and evidence-based health approaches. Reports of torture, ill-treatment, and punishment of people who use drugs in these camps are widespread. There are reports, for example, of people being thrown into cold water in winter, beaten, and denied sufficient and adequate food.[18] Changing the Frame

Moreover, substance use continues to be criminalised[17] and individuals identified as “addicts” are obligated to seek treatment in government or private rehabilitation centers, many of which, due to lack of adequate oversight, are illegal and effectively underground. Individuals who use illicit substances are generally admitted to rehabilitation camps without their consent by the authorities or their families. Human rights organisations have raised serious concerns about the compatibility of rehabilitation methods used in these camps with international human rights standards and evidence-based health approaches. Reports of torture, illtreatment and punishments of people who use drugs in camps are prevalent. For example, there are reports of people being thrown into cold water in winter and being subjected to beatings and denied of sufficient and adequate food.[18] Changing the frame

The importance of the frames through which people who use illicit substances are perceived has been highlighted in recent years. Harm-reduction experts, academic journals, and human rights organizations have increasingly drawn attention to the use of language and visual representation in relation to people who use illicit substances, because these shape the way society perceives substance use and the people who use substances. One important shift has been toward language that ensures respect for the personhood and dignity of people who use substances. The use of “people-first language” has meant that terms such as “addict” or “alcoholic,” which depersonalize individuals and deprive them of individual qualities, have been replaced with phrases such as “people who use substances” or “a person with addiction.” This “people-first language” places the words describing individuals’ behaviors or conditions only after the words referring to the individuals themselves, thereby ensuring that a person’s whole being is not reduced to one aspect of their characteristics or behavior.[19]

The importance of the frames through which people use illicit substances has been highlighted in recent years. Harm reduction experts, academic journals and human rights organisations have increasingly drawn attention to the use of language and visual representation when it comes to people who use illicit substances as they shape the way society perceives substance use and people who use them. One important shift has been towards the use of language that ensures respect of personhood and dignity of people who use substances. The use of “people-first language” has meant that terms such as “addict” or “alcoholic”, which depersonalise individuals and deprive them of individual qualities, have been replaced with phrases such as ‘people who use substances’ or ‘a person with addiction’. This “people-first language” places the words describing individuals’ behaviors or conditions only after the words referring to the individuals themselves thus ensuring that one’s whole being is not reduced to one aspect of their characteristics or behaviour.[19]

These changes in language matter, not as mere gestures, but as part of the work of resisting dehumanizing attitudes. As Butler writes, “Certain faces must be admitted into public view, must be seen and heard for some keener sense of the value of life, all life, to take hold.”[20]

These changes in language are important, not as mere gestures but as what helps resisting dehumanising attitudes. As Butler says “Certain faces must be admitted into public view, must be seen and heard for some keener sense of the value of life, all life, to take hold.”[20]

[2] Judith Butler, Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable?

[2] Judith Butler. “Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable?”

[3] The Omid Memorial in Defense of Human Rights is a project of the Abdorrahman Boroumand Center, aimed at recording the names and stories of people whose right to life has been violated by the Islamic Republic of Iran, including through executions and extrajudicial killings. See here.

[3] The Omid Memorial in Defense of Human Rights is a project by Abdorrahman Boroumand Center aimed at recording the names and stories of people whose right to life has been violated by the Islamic Republic of Iran including through executions and extrajudicial killings. See here.

[5] See David Livingstone Smith, On Inhumanity: Dehumanization and How to Resist It, New York: Oxford University Press, 2020, chapter 3.

[5] See David Livingstone Smith, “On Inhumanity:Dehumanization and How to Resist It”, New York, Oxford University Press, 2020, Chapter 3.

[6] Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Power of Mourning and Violence.

[6] Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Power of Mourning and Violence.

[7] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Judith Butler, Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable?

[8] Judith Butler, Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable?

[9] Smith, On Inhumanity, chapter 3.

[9] Smith, On Inhumanity”, Chapter 3.

[10] Butler, Frames of War.

[10] Butler, Frames of War.

[11] Gitta Sereny, Into That Darkness: An Examination of Conscience.

[11] Gitta Sereny, Into That Darkness: An Examination of Conscience.

[12] Primo Levi, The Drowned and the Saved, Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2017, chapter V.

[12] Primo Levi, The Drowned and the Saved, (Simon & Schuster paperbacks, 2017), Chapter V.

[13] Marichu A. Villanueva, “Duterte likens drug addicts to zombies,” Philstar Global, 24 August 2017, available here.

[13] Marichu A. Villanueva, “Duterte likens drug addicts to zombies. Philstar Global”, (2017, August 24), available here.

[14] Adrian Gallagher, Euan Raffle, and Zain Maulana, “Failing to Fulfil the Responsibility to Protect: The War on Drugs as Crimes Against Humanity in the Philippines,” The Pacific Review 33, no. 2 (2020): 247-277, available here.

[14] Adrian Gallagher, Euan Raffle & Zain Maulana (2020) Failing to fulfil the responsibility to protect: the war on drugs as crimes against humanity in the Philippines, The Pacific Review, 33:2, 247-277, pp. 247-277 available here.

[15] See International Criminal Court, “Statement of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Fatou Bensouda, on Opening Preliminary Examinations into the Situations in the Philippines and in Venezuela,” 8 February 2018, available here.

[15] See International Criminal Court, “Statement of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Fatou Bensouda, on opening Preliminary Examinations into the situations in the Philippines and in Venezuela”, 8 February 2018, available here.

[16] Ibid.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Article 1 of the Anti-Narcotics Law criminalizes substance use, while Article 19 prescribes the cruel and inhuman punishment of flogging, as well as a monetary fine, for those who use drugs but are not “addicts.” Article 15 states that “addicts who do not seek treatment and rehabilitation are criminals.”

[17] Article 1 of the Anti-Narcotics Law criminalises substance use while Article 19 prescribes the cruel and inhuman punishment of flogging as well as a monetary fine for those who use drugs but are not “addicts”. Article 15 states that “addicts who do not seek treatment and rehabilitation are criminals.”

[18] Abdorrahman Boroumand Center and Harm Reduction International, Drug Policy and Human Rights in Iran: A Report from Abdorrahman Boroumand Center and Harm Reduction International, Joint Stakeholder Submission to the Working Group for the Universal Periodic Review, Third Cycle, 1 March 2019, available here.

[18] Abdorrahman Boroumand Center and Harm Reduction International, Drug Policy and Human Rights in Iran: A Report from Abdorrahman Boroumand Center and Harm Reduction International (Joint Stakeholder Submission to the Working Group for The Universal Periodic Review, Third Cycle), March 1, 2019, available here.

[19] See, for example, Lauren M. Broyles, Ingrid A. Binswanger, Jennifer A. Jenkins, Deborah S. Finnell, Babalola Faseru, Alan Cavaiola, Marianne Pugatch, and Adam J. Gordon, “Confronting Inadvertent Stigma and Pejorative Language in Addiction Scholarship: A Recognition and Response,” Substance Abuse 35, no. 3 (2014): 217-221, available at <https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24911031/>

[19] See for example, Lauren M. Broyles, Ingrid A. Binswanger, Jennifer A. Jenkins, Deborah S. Finnell, Babalola Faseru, Alan Cavaiola, Marianne Pugatch & Adam J. Gordon (2014) Confronting Inadvertent Stigma and Pejorative Language in Addiction Scholarship: A Recognition and Response, Substance Abuse, 35:3, 217-221, available at <https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24911031/>

[20] Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Power of Mourning and Violence.

[20] Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Power of Mourning and Violence.