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FAST
SINGAPORE: Social media has amplified all kinds of voices, for better or worse. Among the most troubling are those that downplay the gravity of relapse and incarceration, warn ex-drug offenders turned anti-drug advocates.
For example, in a TikTok clip in December that drew over 296,000 views and 9,000 likes, a group of local influencers casually chat about one of them returning to prison for a few days, almost as if it were a “retreat”.
The group even jokes about how “excited” the re-offender is to spend “some time alone”, having not visited the facility in a year.
From the viewpoint of Centre for Psychotherapy senior counsellor Gopal Mahey, a former drug offender who appeared in CNA series Extraordinary People, such messaging is dangerous.
WATCH: The drug counsellor who was using drugs — Now I use my pain to help others (27:36)
“To normalise (re-offending) or even trivialise it, I think, is really counterintuitive … to the idea of deterrence and why it’s important to make good choices,” the 42-year-old tells CNA Insider.
Even if such content does not gain mainstream traction, “it’ll (be) ingrained in some people that going to prison is something good”, says Christopher Chia, an anti-drug advocate who knows firsthand about the stain a criminal record can leave.
Despite holding a double-major degree, he struggled to find employment for several years owing to his past convictions.
Nur Azlinda, another anti-drug advocate, says that glorifying the prison experience is particularly harmful to young people who are impressionable.
“When prison is depicted as an adventure or a place to gain status, (youths) may … become less fearful of the justice system,” opines Azlinda, who has been drug-free since 2020. “This makes them more likely to engage in risky behaviours.”
A Central Narcotics Bureau operation in Tengah on Nov 7 saw about S$1.4 million worth of drugs seized. Three Singaporean suspects were arrested. (Photo: CNB)
Worse, instead of seeking rehabilitation, some of them may embrace criminality as part of their “thug life” identity, trapping themselves in a cycle of re-offending, she adds.
These anti-drug advocates are sounding the alarm amid a growing drug problem among youth in Singapore.
The Central Narcotics Bureau’s annual statistical report shows that the youngest abuser arrested last year was aged 13 — when on average, the onset of drug abuse is at age 16, as found in the 2022 Health and Lifestyle Survey.
The number of new drug abusers under 20, meanwhile, surged by 30 per cent.
As to why such “post and boast” content gets made and shared, Gopal suggests it could be a coping mechanism or even a cry for help.
Influencers have a particular responsibility, however, to shape a healthier narrative about drugs and prison, he stresses. “(If) we’re all sitting around and laughing about it, aren’t we kind of minimising the pain? Aren't we minimising the consequences?”
That does not mean those who relapse should be condemned or treated without compassion, says fellow ex-offender and anti-drug advocate Francis How.
“(But) giving them (a) chance to turn their life around doesn’t mean giving them approval (for any attempt) to minimise criminal behaviour (and for) rebellious values.”
What should be talked about instead, highlights Gopal, but is often glossed over — even in success stories, including his own — are the mental, societal and familial costs of addiction that reformed addicts must pay before their triumphs are within reach.
Gopal’s addiction cost him the chance to bond with his young son, and other pivotal family moments that he missed.
Gopal was arrested in December 2013. It was the year he began smoking methamphetamine and the same year he got married and moved into his new home.
“The night that he was arrested, I didn’t even know what the next step was going to be,” his wife Melissa Zehnder recalls, “because never in my life did I … think I’d have to do this.”
She would not only lose her husband to prison but would also have to raise their son alone. He was born months before Gopal was sentenced in September 2016 for drug consumption and for possession of drugs for trafficking.
“I recall this image where I’m looking at my infant son on the bed, and … at the periphery of my vision, my wife is in tears,” Gopal describes.
“She looks at me, and she says, ‘Gopal, I’m going to raise a good boy so that you can come home and raise a good man. Please come home.’”
It was Christmas Eve when the police arrived to search the couple’s home, Melissa Zehnder recalls.
His actions had sent ripples through the rest of his family too. His mother, Nisha Rani, the clinical director of the Centre for Psychotherapy, was in shock. His father, Satish Kumar, was devastated.
“I was completely broken,” Kumar says, his voice quivering. “I’m still emotional when I recall those days.”
Gopal’s brother, Anand Mahey, was tormented by guilt because suspicion had gnawed at his mind. “Maybe if I’d just asked (Gopal), maybe if I’d asked my parents, maybe if I’d asked somebody, … something would’ve happened,” he still wonders.
Gopal had been a high-functioning addict since 2010. But it was not until he joined his mother as a prison counsellor a few years later that his double life weighed upon him.
“At the back of my mind, I’m telling myself, ‘What am I doing? What kind of madness is this?’” he recalls.
“There were many times (when) I’d (be) telling myself that I needed to do something … to stop. But because (of) the biopsychosocial power of addiction, I was just trapped in that cycle.”
Gopal in his younger days. When he was arrested, he became known as “the drug counsellor who took drugs”. (Photo: Gopal Mahey)
Over time, however, he began to see relapse differently: as a sign that something in life was not working and an opportunity to recalibrate and relearn.
“But you need to be ready for help,” he says. “It’s about not just what you’ve done and how you did it, but why.”
After he was finally released in January 2022, he applied to volunteer at his town council, hoping to pack and deliver groceries to the elderly. His application was rejected after the town council found a news article about his arrest.
It was a pivotal moment in his rehabilitation — when he realised that “a stigma can either rule the rest of my life”, he says, “or I need to own my narrative”.
With the belief that rehabilitation is not only about saving individuals but about creating conditions for them to save themselves, Gopal runs the Pathways to Accountability, Change and Transformation programme, one of the first structured pre-sentencing to post-release support initiatives.
It is designed to address the root causes of offending behaviour, provide psychological support and build reintegration strategies for a stable future. For first-time offenders, early intervention is particularly crucial. “When (they’re) charged in court, their identity ruptures,” says Gopal.
This is exacerbated by a phenomenon called prisoner presentation, where individuals are assigned a number and no longer called by their name, he cites.
“You begin to become institutionalised, and then contamination takes place,” he says. “Individuals begin to … join gangs to fit in, to feel a sense of security.”
Gopal and his counsellor mother, Nisha Rani, lead group workshops for inmates in different clusters within Changi Prison.
This is why his programme focuses on upstream rehabilitation, tackling re-offending, mental health and suicidal ideation, all while preparing individuals for sentencing.
“(Some) individuals say desistance happens only when you go into the system. But (there) are individuals who aren’t in the system yet, and they’re already … thinking of change,” he says.
Indeed, Anil Sandhu of law firm Kertar and Sandhu, who specialises in criminal law, has seen a growing need for counselling among his clients.
“(The trial) process, in itself, can be a very traumatic experience for the accused,” he observes. “If the individual has the help of a counsellor, he’s then able to … be calmer (and) go through the process (more easily).”
And in helping them, Gopal brings his lived experience to the table.
Gopal with members of a support group for persons in recovery.
“I know what distress is because I’ve been there,” he says, citing his experience, for example, of “crowded loneliness” when people around him wanted to help “but nobody really understood”.
Since January last year, the Centre for Psychotherapy has seen about 90 people through the pre-sentencing programme, with “many of them” overcoming depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation.
“More importantly, I’ve had clients … who’ve told me that they’d re-offend, but they haven’t,” says Gopal, adding that families have reported improvements in their relationships and mental health and are learning how to support their loved ones through reintegration.
From April 1, the programme will be partially subsidised by the National Council of Social Service, which recently awarded a pilot tender to counselling centres.
Individuals with a blue or orange Community Health Assist Scheme card, for example, or a referral from social service organisations can now access more affordable counselling at selected centres.
The Centre for Psychotherapy is also a member of the Desistor Network, which provides peer support for those still on their rehabilitation journey, with a focus on newly released offenders.
Beyond the therapy sessions, Gopal’s advocacy work is also driving change, not least in the narratives about addiction and incarceration.
Anglo-Chinese Junior College student Anggun Soracca Jaya, who has attended a Yellow Ribbon talk featuring Gopal, appreciated the empathetic, humane way he looked at addiction and the way he framed incarceration as “an opportunity to get better”.
“The shift in perspective was really good and … necessary for me,” she says. “Because I (held) a stereotype that … (drug addicts) would never learn from their mistakes.”
Watch Gopal Mahey’s story in the series Extraordinary People, which pays homage to a successful, iconic documentary series of the same name, produced in the 1990s by predecessors of CNA’s current affairs department.
Source: CNA/fl(dp)
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FAST
SINGAPORE: Social media has amplified all kinds of voices, for better or worse. Among the most troubling are those that downplay the gravity of relapse and incarceration, warn ex-drug offenders turned anti-drug advocates.
For example, in a TikTok clip in December that drew over 296,000 views and 9,000 likes, a group of local influencers casually chat about one of them returning to prison for a few days, almost as if it were a “retreat”.
The group even jokes about how “excited” the re-offender is to spend “some time alone”, having not visited the facility in a year.
From the viewpoint of Centre for Psychotherapy senior counsellor Gopal Mahey, a former drug offender who appeared in CNA series Extraordinary People, such messaging is dangerous.
WATCH: The drug counsellor who was using drugs — Now I use my pain to help others (27:36)
“To normalise (re-offending) or even trivialise it, I think, is really counterintuitive … to the idea of deterrence and why it’s important to make good choices,” the 42-year-old tells CNA Insider.
Even if such content does not gain mainstream traction, “it’ll (be) ingrained in some people that going to prison is something good”, says Christopher Chia, an anti-drug advocate who knows firsthand about the stain a criminal record can leave.
Despite holding a double-major degree, he struggled to find employment for several years owing to his past convictions.
Nur Azlinda, another anti-drug advocate, says that glorifying the prison experience is particularly harmful to young people who are impressionable.
“When prison is depicted as an adventure or a place to gain status, (youths) may … become less fearful of the justice system,” opines Azlinda, who has been drug-free since 2020. “This makes them more likely to engage in risky behaviours.”
A Central Narcotics Bureau operation in Tengah on Nov 7 saw about S$1.4 million worth of drugs seized. Three Singaporean suspects were arrested. (Photo: CNB)
Worse, instead of seeking rehabilitation, some of them may embrace criminality as part of their “thug life” identity, trapping themselves in a cycle of re-offending, she adds.
These anti-drug advocates are sounding the alarm amid a growing drug problem among youth in Singapore.
The Central Narcotics Bureau’s annual statistical report shows that the youngest abuser arrested last year was aged 13 — when on average, the onset of drug abuse is at age 16, as found in the 2022 Health and Lifestyle Survey.
The number of new drug abusers under 20, meanwhile, surged by 30 per cent.
As to why such “post and boast” content gets made and shared, Gopal suggests it could be a coping mechanism or even a cry for help.
Related stories:
Influencers have a particular responsibility, however, to shape a healthier narrative about drugs and prison, he stresses. “(If) we’re all sitting around and laughing about it, aren’t we kind of minimising the pain? Aren't we minimising the consequences?”
That does not mean those who relapse should be condemned or treated without compassion, says fellow ex-offender and anti-drug advocate Francis How.
“(But) giving them (a) chance to turn their life around doesn’t mean giving them approval (for any attempt) to minimise criminal behaviour (and for) rebellious values.”
What should be talked about instead, highlights Gopal, but is often glossed over — even in success stories, including his own — are the mental, societal and familial costs of addiction that reformed addicts must pay before their triumphs are within reach.
Gopal’s addiction cost him the chance to bond with his young son, and other pivotal family moments that he missed.
ADDICTION’S HIDDEN TOLL
Gopal was arrested in December 2013. It was the year he began smoking methamphetamine and the same year he got married and moved into his new home.
“The night that he was arrested, I didn’t even know what the next step was going to be,” his wife Melissa Zehnder recalls, “because never in my life did I … think I’d have to do this.”
She would not only lose her husband to prison but would also have to raise their son alone. He was born months before Gopal was sentenced in September 2016 for drug consumption and for possession of drugs for trafficking.
“I recall this image where I’m looking at my infant son on the bed, and … at the periphery of my vision, my wife is in tears,” Gopal describes.
“She looks at me, and she says, ‘Gopal, I’m going to raise a good boy so that you can come home and raise a good man. Please come home.’”
It was Christmas Eve when the police arrived to search the couple’s home, Melissa Zehnder recalls.
His actions had sent ripples through the rest of his family too. His mother, Nisha Rani, the clinical director of the Centre for Psychotherapy, was in shock. His father, Satish Kumar, was devastated.
“I was completely broken,” Kumar says, his voice quivering. “I’m still emotional when I recall those days.”
Gopal’s brother, Anand Mahey, was tormented by guilt because suspicion had gnawed at his mind. “Maybe if I’d just asked (Gopal), maybe if I’d asked my parents, maybe if I’d asked somebody, … something would’ve happened,” he still wonders.
Gopal had been a high-functioning addict since 2010. But it was not until he joined his mother as a prison counsellor a few years later that his double life weighed upon him.
“At the back of my mind, I’m telling myself, ‘What am I doing? What kind of madness is this?’” he recalls.
“There were many times (when) I’d (be) telling myself that I needed to do something … to stop. But because (of) the biopsychosocial power of addiction, I was just trapped in that cycle.”
Gopal in his younger days. When he was arrested, he became known as “the drug counsellor who took drugs”. (Photo: Gopal Mahey)
Over time, however, he began to see relapse differently: as a sign that something in life was not working and an opportunity to recalibrate and relearn.
“But you need to be ready for help,” he says. “It’s about not just what you’ve done and how you did it, but why.”
After he was finally released in January 2022, he applied to volunteer at his town council, hoping to pack and deliver groceries to the elderly. His application was rejected after the town council found a news article about his arrest.
It was a pivotal moment in his rehabilitation — when he realised that “a stigma can either rule the rest of my life”, he says, “or I need to own my narrative”.
Related stories:
WHY PRE-SENTENCING HELP MATTERS
With the belief that rehabilitation is not only about saving individuals but about creating conditions for them to save themselves, Gopal runs the Pathways to Accountability, Change and Transformation programme, one of the first structured pre-sentencing to post-release support initiatives.
It is designed to address the root causes of offending behaviour, provide psychological support and build reintegration strategies for a stable future. For first-time offenders, early intervention is particularly crucial. “When (they’re) charged in court, their identity ruptures,” says Gopal.
This is exacerbated by a phenomenon called prisoner presentation, where individuals are assigned a number and no longer called by their name, he cites.
“You begin to become institutionalised, and then contamination takes place,” he says. “Individuals begin to … join gangs to fit in, to feel a sense of security.”
Gopal and his counsellor mother, Nisha Rani, lead group workshops for inmates in different clusters within Changi Prison.
This is why his programme focuses on upstream rehabilitation, tackling re-offending, mental health and suicidal ideation, all while preparing individuals for sentencing.
“(Some) individuals say desistance happens only when you go into the system. But (there) are individuals who aren’t in the system yet, and they’re already … thinking of change,” he says.
Indeed, Anil Sandhu of law firm Kertar and Sandhu, who specialises in criminal law, has seen a growing need for counselling among his clients.
“(The trial) process, in itself, can be a very traumatic experience for the accused,” he observes. “If the individual has the help of a counsellor, he’s then able to … be calmer (and) go through the process (more easily).”
And in helping them, Gopal brings his lived experience to the table.
Gopal with members of a support group for persons in recovery.
“I know what distress is because I’ve been there,” he says, citing his experience, for example, of “crowded loneliness” when people around him wanted to help “but nobody really understood”.
Since January last year, the Centre for Psychotherapy has seen about 90 people through the pre-sentencing programme, with “many of them” overcoming depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation.
“More importantly, I’ve had clients … who’ve told me that they’d re-offend, but they haven’t,” says Gopal, adding that families have reported improvements in their relationships and mental health and are learning how to support their loved ones through reintegration.
From April 1, the programme will be partially subsidised by the National Council of Social Service, which recently awarded a pilot tender to counselling centres.
Individuals with a blue or orange Community Health Assist Scheme card, for example, or a referral from social service organisations can now access more affordable counselling at selected centres.
The Centre for Psychotherapy is also a member of the Desistor Network, which provides peer support for those still on their rehabilitation journey, with a focus on newly released offenders.
Beyond the therapy sessions, Gopal’s advocacy work is also driving change, not least in the narratives about addiction and incarceration.
Anglo-Chinese Junior College student Anggun Soracca Jaya, who has attended a Yellow Ribbon talk featuring Gopal, appreciated the empathetic, humane way he looked at addiction and the way he framed incarceration as “an opportunity to get better”.
“The shift in perspective was really good and … necessary for me,” she says. “Because I (held) a stereotype that … (drug addicts) would never learn from their mistakes.”
Watch Gopal Mahey’s story in the series Extraordinary People, which pays homage to a successful, iconic documentary series of the same name, produced in the 1990s by predecessors of CNA’s current affairs department.
You may wish to also read:
Source: CNA/fl(dp)
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