A front-page article in The Valley Profile on November 18 positioned Thames as having one of the highest per capita rates of methamphetamine consumption in New Zealand, based on wastewater testing data. While we don't dispute that methamphetamine harm affects our community, the way this story has been framed risks doing more damage than good.

As an organisation that works daily with people from all walks of life, Te Whāriki Manawāhine O Hauraki wants to offer a different perspective. One grounded in the reality of supporting people through mahi tūkino, addiction, trauma, and recovery.

The Data Doesn't Tell the Whole Story

The wastewater testing methodology has significant limitations, particularly for communities like Thames. The testing measures drug metabolites in sewage and is divided by the permanent resident population. Still, Thames has approximately 7,230 permanent residents and over 2,400 holiday homes in the wider Thames-Coromandel District.

Here's what matters. Approximately half of the housing stock in Thames-Coromandel is owned by wealthy holidaymakers who flood the region during peak seasons. Tourism spending exceeds $407 million annually. During summer, our beaches, bach communities, and holiday rentals swell with visitors. If wastewater testing measures consumption from 10,000 or more people actually present, but calculates rates based on 7,230 permanent residents, the per capita figure becomes artificially inflated by 30-40%.

There's another flaw. Houseless people don't have regular access to toilets connected to the sewerage system, yet the narrative often positions methamphetamine as a "homeless person's drug." The data doesn't capture this population.

International research on wastewater epidemiology confirms that "population size estimation is one of the largest uncertainties" in this methodology, and that "drug consumption may be overestimated in those areas which have large tourist or commuting populations."

Thames is being compared unfairly to urban centres with more stable populations. This isn't about denying methamphetamine use exists here. It's about questioning whether we're truly an outlier, or whether our data is skewed by factors the methodology doesn't account for.

When Headlines Do More Harm

The way drug statistics get reported can create real damage in communities, and it often reinforces harmful stereotypes about who uses methamphetamine.

The stereotype that meth is primarily a drug for poor or houseless people is misleading and stigmatising. Acting Sergeant Gareth Carter made an essential point in the original article: "A lot of people think it's only the poor people or the rough sleepers that are addicted to it… There are upper-class and business people who are known to use illicit drugs."

The reality is more complex. Cocaine is expensive and primarily accessible to wealthier users. When people can't access or afford cocaine, many turn to methamphetamine as an alternative. The wastewater data captures both regular meth users and people substituting it for other drugs, meaning the "meth problem" narrative often obscures broader patterns of drug use across all socioeconomic groups.

Headlines about Thames having a rate double the national average fuel fear and calls for stricter enforcement. But as Vicki Aitken from Health New Zealand correctly noted in the original article, "we just need to arrest everybody" won't fix the issue. Increased criminalisation only pushes people further into the margins.

The coverage also ignores why people use drugs in the first place. In Te Whāriki's interview for the article, we tried to emphasise this point. Some of the people we work with tell us they use methamphetamine because they're struggling in their lives, can't find homes, and face increased pressure from policies that sideline them. Until we address these root causes, there will always be people struggling with some form of drug use.

The Structural Problem

Here's the bitter irony. The same structural inequality that inflates Thames' wastewater statistics is also driving some of the actual methamphetamine harm.

Half our housing stock is owned by wealthy holiday makers. This creates one of the worst housing shortages in the country. Our research shows people are driven to desperation and to self-medicate when they can't find stable housing, when they're priced out of their own community, and when the gap between the haves and have-nots becomes impossible to bridge.

So, the holiday home owners contribute to our inflated drug statistics through their seasonal presence, while simultaneously creating the housing crisis that drives some local people to use methamphetamine. The very people making Thames look "worse" in the data are contributing to the conditions that create genuine harm.

And then Thames gets publicly identified as having concerning levels of methamphetamine use, yet the government's $30 million action plan will primarily target Northland, Hawke's Bay, Gisborne, and Rotorua. Thames may not receive any funding at all.

We get the stigma but not the support.

What Our Community Actually Needs

Evidence-based support services, not surveillance. Wraparound addiction services, mental health support, and peer-led recovery programmes work. Increased monitoring and enforcement don't.

Housing first approaches. You cannot address addiction while people are in unstable or unsafe housing situations. Housing security is foundational to recovery. But how do we achieve this when half our housing stock is locked up in holiday homes?

Addressing intergenerational trauma. Many of the whānau we work with are dealing with trauma that spans generations. Meth use is a symptom, not the disease itself.

Economic opportunities and social inclusion. The current government's approach of "sidelining" vulnerable populations through benefit sanctions and reduced social services makes things worse, not better.

Community-based responses that respect dignity. People struggling with addiction need support, not shame. They deserve to be treated as members of our community worthy of care, not problems to be solved through punishment.

Better data and honest conversations. If we're going to use wastewater testing, let's do it properly. Account for seasonal populations and the limitations of the methodology. Don't use flawed statistics to stigmatise communities or reinforce class-based stereotypes about drug use.

What Gets Lost

We don't blame the journalist who wrote the article. We know she spoke to Te Whāriki, trying to capture the complexity of this issue. But somewhere between the interviews and the published piece, nuance was lost.

What didn't make it into the story: Te Whāriki shared statistics about our success rates. We're getting people off meth, into stable housing, into employment. We're supporting whānau to reunite with children who Oranga Tamariki had taken. We've built strong working relationships with local agencies, and our outcomes compare favourably with those of many regions facing similar issues. This work is happening quietly, consistently, without fanfare.

But that's not the story that got told. Instead, Thames gets framed as uniquely troubled, and the people we're successfully supporting become invisible in the narrative.

Thames doesn't need to be "named and shamed." Eddie Churton from Living Well Trust is right that the situation is getting worse, but only because the structural conditions are deteriorating. More people are struggling to find housing. Benefit sanctions are increasing hardship. Mental health services are stretched beyond capacity.

Suppose we want to reduce methamphetamine harm in Thames and across New Zealand. In that case, we need to stop treating it as a criminal problem requiring enforcement and start treating it as a health and social justice issue requiring investment in people.

That's the conversation Thames deserves. Not whether we're number one on a flawed data list, but how we can better support our most vulnerable whānau in a region where half the housing is owned by people who don't even live here.

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