An individual story can reveal more about the state of a society than any statistic. When we measure everything through efficiency, we risk forgetting what truly sustains us: hope.
Earlier this week, I spoke at a webinar about the drug situation in Finland. At the same event, an experiential expert named Eliel shared his own story. It was not a quick success story of the kind often highlighted. It was a story of 15 years of substance use, numerous failed attempts, and ultimately a 15-month period of community rehabilitation that helped him break free from addiction.
As I listened, I found myself reflecting on how strongly our current discourse is shaped by efficiency. Everything is expected to happen quickly, results should come immediately, and preferably with minimal resources.
But human life does not work that way.
The ethos of efficiency excludes
We live in a time where efficiency is almost a moral virtue. The media celebrates young high achievers who have accomplished a great deal in a short time. They are held up as examples for others to emulate.
At the same time, those who cannot keep up with this pace are easily rendered invisible. Their stories do not fit the narrative of rapid and straightforward success.
People struggling with substance use are perhaps the clearest example of this. Their paths are often long, complex, and full of setbacks. This does not align with an efficiency-driven mindset, and as a result, it is far too often overlooked.
Youth distress does not emerge from nowhere
The latest Youth Barometer figures have raised concern—and rightly so. Young people’s well-being has declined, and their faith in the future has weakened.
But should we really be surprised?
Young people are constantly told that there are no jobs, that money is running out, and that tougher times lie ahead. Public discourse is filled with cuts and crises. At the same time, talk of war is taking up more and more space in the media.
The perspective of hope is almost entirely absent.
When the future appears uncertain and bleak, it is no wonder that belief in one’s place in the world begins to waver. And when that belief falters, the risk of seeking relief in harmful ways increases.
What if Eliel had been measured by efficiency?
If Eliel’s story were evaluated purely through the lens of efficiency, the conclusion might be harsh: too many failures, too much time, too few results.
It would have been easy to conclude that he was no longer worth investing in.
But this way of thinking is precisely one of the biggest problems in drug policy.
Recovery is not a linear process. It does not happen on a schedule that can be written into a budget. It requires time, support, and above all, belief that change is possible—even when it is not yet visible.
In Eliel’s case, that belief paid off.
Human dignity at the core of drug policy
Drug policy discussions too often focus on control, punishment, and costs. More rarely do we talk about what is actually needed for people to overcome substance use.
We need time. We need long-term rehabilitation. We need services that do not abandon people after their first failure.
And above all, we need a shift in mindset: away from pure efficiency logic and toward human dignity.
A person’s worth is not determined by how quickly they recover or how efficiently they function. Everyone deserves a chance—a second, a third, and a tenth.
Hope is not naive, it is necessary
Ultimately, this is not only about drug policy. It is about what kind of society we want to build.
One where only the fastest and most efficient succeed?
Or one where everyone has the chance to rise, even if the journey is long?
Eliel’s story reminded me once again that hope is not empty optimism. It is a concrete force that can change the direction of a person’s life.
That is why we must bring hope back into public discourse and make it a central foundation of drug policy.
Because without hope, there is no change. And without change, there is no future.