Addiction, Mental Health, and Exploitation: The Crisis We Keep Ignoring

Emily Kenway’s recent investigation is nothing short of amazing research—and also incredibly uncomfortable reading. It lays bare the brutal reality of addiction, homelessness, and modern slavery in the UK. It’s a story we don’t often hear, or perhaps one we choose not to see.

Kenway’s work (2025) highlights a devastating truth: addiction is one of the biggest drivers of exploitation, yet we rarely recognise people with substance dependencies as victims. Instead, they are criminalised, dismissed, or outright ignored. Whether it’s Patrick, coerced into sexual exploitation through drug dependence, Paul, trapped in a cycle of debt bondage within the drug trade, or Jack, forced into a never-ending cycle of unpaid labour, their stories reveal how addiction makes people vulnerable to abuse—and how society fails to protect them.

The Link Between Addiction and Exploitation

It should be obvious: if someone is addicted, their survival depends on access to substances. That desperation makes them an easy target for exploitation. Kenway’s research shows that for many homeless individuals, their drug dependency is weaponised against them—a “chemical leash” that keeps them bound to exploiters who control access to their next fix.

This isn’t just about the drug economy. Addiction-fuelled exploitation extends into construction, farmwork, sex work, and even domestic servitude. The modern slavery we associate with human trafficking is happening in our own communities, with British citizens as victims. The only difference? Those affected are often seen as “undeserving” victims because they have criminal records, use drugs, or have histories of offending.

Mental Health: The Forgotten Factor

Kenway (2025) makes it clear that addiction doesn’t happen in isolation. Mental health and addiction are deeply connected, yet services continue to treat them separately. Many of the people in her research had experienced severe trauma—childhood abuse, foster care, violence—and turned to substances as a form of relief.

Patrick describes his addiction as making him feel “like superman, like flying”—a way to escape the weight of his past. This is a reality well-documented in research: pain comes first, the drugs come later. Yet our support systems still operate under the assumption that addiction is a choice, ignoring the deeper psychological wounds that drive substance use in the first place.

And here’s the real kicker: the very things that should flag someone as needing urgent support—homelessness, drug use, past trauma—actually push them further away from help. Instead of being seen as vulnerable, people like Patrick, Paul, and Jack are treated as criminals first, victims second (or never).

The System Is Failing—And Making Things Worse

One of the most striking things in Kenway’s research is how services fail to identify exploitation among British homeless individuals. While migrants who experience modern slavery are more likely to be recognised as victims, British people in the same situation are ignored.

Why? Because they don’t fit the “ideal victim” stereotype. Criminologist Nils Christie (1986) argued that society is more likely to acknowledge someone as a victim if they are passive, innocent, and blameless. That’s why children caught up in county lines drug trafficking are viewed with sympathy, but a 35-year-old heroin user forced to work for free isn’t.

This bias runs deep. Frontline workers interviewed by Kenway admitted they don’t even ask about exploitation in cases of addiction, partly because they fear damaging trust, but also because they don’t see it as their role. Meanwhile, funding for addiction services has been slashed in England over the past decade, leaving even fewer options for those seeking support.

What Needs to Change?

Kenway’s research points to a glaring hole in current policy: addiction isn’t being treated as a root cause of exploitation. If we’re serious about tackling modern slavery, we need to:

• Recognise addiction as a vulnerability, not just a crime. People who are dependent on substances are at high risk of exploitation—just like children in county lines operations. That recognition should be built into modern slavery policies and frontline training.

• Fund addiction services properly. The link between addiction and exploitation is clear. The more people are forced into dangerous situations to access drugs, the more likely they are to be abused. Harm reduction approaches, including safe consumption spaces, could provide a safer route to support.

• Challenge biases in victim identification. If we only recognise some people as victims while ignoring others, we’re not tackling the problem—we’re reinforcing it. Services need to proactively look for signs of exploitation, regardless of someone’s drug use or criminal record.

Final Thoughts

Kenway’s research forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: society has created hierarchies of victimhood, and people with addiction are at the bottom. But ignoring their suffering doesn’t make it go away. If we truly care about tackling modern slavery and exploitation, we can’t afford to keep looking the other way.

It’s time we stop criminalising survival and start recognising the reality of addiction and mental health for what it is: a crisis that demands a response—not punishment, not judgement, but real support.