NEEDLE DISPOSAL SENDS WRONG MESSAGE

In practical terms, it makes some sense. But this isn't a story about
sense and reality -- this is about perception.

And that's why putting needle disposal bins in the downtown public
library is a mistake.

Let's clear up one thing right away: There is nothing remotely
dangerous about visiting the Central Library in Galleria London. In
fact, I'm confident the biggest risks faced by library patrons are
paper cuts and drowsiness.

I also believe the image of London's core is far worse than its
reality.

"I definitely think there's an exaggerated sense of paranoia about
downtown," says Jason Dickson, publisher of the literary journal The
London Reader and a salesperson at Attic Books, which is situated on
Dundas Street directly across from the Central Library.

"I've lived and worked down here for 10 years and I walk around at two
o'clock in the morning and I've never once had a problem," says Dickson.

London's downtown is the catch basin for many of our city's ills and
afflictions. But it's hardly dangerous.

Bad things sometimes happen downtown (and I emphasize sometimes), but
much of that can be attributed to the disorderly drunks who spill from
the bars at closing time. Still, those troublemakers are the exception
- -- not the rule.

And yes, I agree a public library should be as welcoming to a
well-coiffed matron from Warbler Woods as it is to an unshaven man
from a homeless shelter.

But here's the problem: when that matron -- or a suburban mom,
corporate businessperson or Grade 9 student -- gets wind of the fact
there are people shooting up in the washrooms, they may decide this
library isn't such a welcome destination after all.

According to one of Dickson's downtown co-workers, that's precisely
what's happened to the core.

"This is why people don't want to come downtown," says Attic
salesperson Vanessa Brown. "For all the talk about (the shortage of)
parking, the real reason people don't come downtown is because they
don't want to shop next to smelly, gross, homeless people."

That may be politically incorrect to say. But it's bang-on.

"There are children at the library," adds Brown. "You should not be
encouraging drug addicts to come near the library for any reason."

Now, many will argue that needle disposal bins aren't there to
encourage drug use. Instead, they'll say drug use is a fact of life
and the bins are merely a way to cope with it.

That argument may work with condom machines -- you know, teenagers are
going to have sex no matter what we do, so we might as well ensure the
sex is safer.

But should we similarly infer that, well, library patrons are going to
mainline drugs anyway, so we might as well make it safe and convenient?

Give me a break.

Putting needle disposal bins in library washrooms is a pathetically
passive solution to the problem. I suggest the solution is to identify
and then oust the drug users -- for good.

These people are, after all, committing a crime. (I don't buy for an
instant the suggestion the syringes are from diabetics.)

Ah -- but then library executives will likely protest that it's
impossible to identify the misbehaving mainliners.

Oh really? Try this: Check for needles in the washroom. None? Good.
Now post a guard outside the door. After a patron enters and then
leaves the washroom, check it. Is there a needle there now? Voila!

Now find the guy (and yes, it's mainly guys), read him the riot act
and give him the heave.

Are we infringing on his rights?

Oh please. Your rights end when they infringe on the rights of
others.

During a short tour of the library yesterday, I found two syringes in
one washroom bin. I also watched an obviously impaired man weave,
stumble and mumble his way through the main entrance. It would have
been easy to bar his entry, but no one did.

The library is a place for education and enlightenment. And unless it
stops pandering to the people who are there for the wrong reasons, it
may discover its legitimate patrons have disappeared.

And that's not perception. That's reality.