Filter is shutting down this week. We were unable to survive an increasingly difficult funding landscape, like too many other harm reduction and independent media organizations in these times. It’s a sad moment for those of us who have cared about the publication. But I don’t think we need to be despondent.
A few of us got together to conceive Filter in 2017. Our mission, as we framed it, was “to advocate through journalism for rational and compassionate approaches to drug use, drug policy and human rights.” Our aims included countering dominant, damaging media narratives about drugs and people who use them. We wanted to challenge stigma and misinformation by platforming important voices, stories and issues that are routinely ignored. We wanted to expose the drug war for what it really is—a war on people—and influence the public conversation for the better.
For the eight years since we pushed the site live in 2018, Filter has had the distinction of being a news organization dedicated to covering harm reduction. We have published thousands of articles—investigative reports, news briefs, interviews, essays, opinion and much more—to that end, documenting a period when the movement has evolved rapidly and entered mainstream policy discussions in the United States.
We have debunked drug myths, provided information about safer use, highlighted overlooked needs and perspectives, explored the history and culture of harm reduction, and deconstructed policy developments. We have broken news and analyzed it. We have charted the trajectory of the North American overdose crisis, and the harm reduction interventions that have—and haven’t—been implemented to mitigate it, while never losing sight of prohibition’s role in creating the crisis to begin with.
Nationally and internationally, we’ve routinely and in depth covered practice and policies around stimulants, psychedelics, cannabis, alcohol, medications for opioid use disorder and more—coverage often authored, importantly but far too unusually, by people who actually use the drugs in question.
We’ve regularly drawn the links from drug policy to a raft of intersecting issues, from policing to sex work, from mental health to the housing and climate crises. The fact that our heavy focus on mass incarceration has been spearheaded by a group of dedicated incarcerated journalists, one of whom won an award for his work, is a source of pride.
Filter has also stood out by centering tobacco harm reduction—concerning the world’s biggest source of drug-related deaths—and showing why it’s crucial to integrate it with wider public health and human rights causes. Back when we launched, it was highly unusual for “drug” harm reduction organizations to do this, though thanks in part to our advocacy that is now changing.
Filter’s work has been read by many millions of people around the world. It has been picked up and cited by major legacy media; republished and translated by international blogs; referenced in academic papers, court cases, books and more; and praised by many entities and individuals in this space. We’ve achieved this with a staff ranging from just three to five people over the years—but there are so many people we need to thank.
Our extraordinary writers—a diverse mix including professional journalists, advocates and activists, academics, health care practitioners and people whose expertise is based on their lived experience—have been the lifeblood of this publication. It has been an honor to work with hundreds of writers, of all backgrounds, whose passion and knowledge of the issues are such that one of my key roles as editor has been to get out of the way.
I’m also awestruck by the talent and dedication of Filter’s staff, who have produced outstanding work week after week, often in difficult circumstances, because of how much they care about our issues. That’s Deputy Editor Kastalia Medrano, who has helped lead the site since 2020; Senior Editor Helen Redmond, who was deeply involved in its conception; and our honorary team member, Tobacco Harm Reduction Fellow Kiran Sidhu. It has been a privilege to work with them, and the links on their names will give you some idea of how they’ve shaped this publication with their distinctive styles and beats. Others have filled staff roles with great distinction in the past—the likes of Sessi Kuwabara Blanchard, Alex Norcia and Alexander Lekhtman. I’m indebted to them all.
That equally goes for all of Filter’s funders—from large foundations and companies right through to the many individual readers who were kind enough to make regular or one-off donations. Some of them even responded to our recent financial difficulties by increasing their support. It’s humbling when anyone believes in your project enough to part with actual money. Without these generous contributors, Filter would never have existed, let alone grown into what it was.
Something similar could be said of our organizational allies, such as Knowledge-Action-Change, the Drug Policy Alliance, the Global Forum on Nicotine, the National Harm Reduction Coalition, the Law Enforcement Action Partnership and Marijuana Moment, which have collaborated with us or supported our work in various other ways.
All of us who’ve worked for Filter want to express our gratitude to the board of The Influence Foundation, our nonprofit entity—latterly Sheila Vakharia, Diane Goldstein, Morgan Godvin, Christine Rodriguez and Treasurer Phil Hur. We’ve been steered through periods of growth and choppy waters alike by their wisdom and expertise, which they’ve selflessly volunteered. I’ve personally been grateful year after year for their constructive guidance and support. Some of them wished to share a few words at this moment.
“I found Filter when I’d been out of prison barely a year, at a time when I still felt profoundly powerless,” Morgan said. “Filter treated the experiences that had so often been used to diminish people like me as expertise—it turned isolation into community and lived experience into public knowledge. The stories I wrote and read connected me with people all over the country and gave me friendships I still carry. My heart is heavy to lose Filter, but I will be proud of what we built here for the rest of my life.”
One of the board’s final tasks has been to arrange for Filter to stay online for some years after we end our operations, as a community resource. So if you’re here at some unknown point in the future, I hope you’ll dig through the archives and benefit from what you find.
Finally, a publication is nothing without its readers, and Filter’s have been exceptionally intelligent, engaged and committed. We have always appreciated your sharing and discussions, your feedback (of all kinds!) and your loyalty—which says some deeply encouraging things about the strength of support for harm reduction and human rights.
Filter’s journey is ending, but that doesn’t mean the journey wasn’t worth making. And when we look around us, we can only conclude that the ideas that drove it remain in inspiring hands.
“I helped build Filter because I believe people who use drugs deserve to be seen with dignity, not judged from a distance,” Diane said. “I never expected it would also become the place that helped me carry my brother’s memory. Watching it close feels like losing a piece of my own family—but everything it stood for, and everyone it reached, will outlast it.”
Thank you all for coming with us.
