Matua Kahurangi: Meth, markets and mistakes

In 2011, pseudoephedrine, a once-common ingredient in cold and flu medication, was pulled from New Zealand pharmacy shelves and reclassified as a Class B controlled substance. The reason? It could be used to manufacture methamphetamine, or “P”, the drug blamed for a wave of addiction, crime and community devastation across the country.

The decision was seen as bold, even necessary. Then-Prime Minister John Key said he feared for his teenage children. His own home had been burgled by a man with a meth habit. The ban, Key argued, would help dismantle the domestic meth supply chain and protect Kiwi families.

Over a decade later, the ban remains one of the most striking examples of a policy that made headlines, changed lives, and, I would argue, did little to actually solve the problem it targeted.

In 2024, the ACT Party-led push to reverse that decision has quietly returned pseudoephedrine to pharmacy shelves. And for many New Zealanders, myself included, that change has come not a moment too soon.

A personal test

This week, I came down with a heavy flu. Blocked nose, sinus pressure, fatigue, the usual. But unlike years past, this time I remembered something had changed, the return of pseudoephedrine. A friend walked into a local pharmacy on my behalf, while I was at home ‘dying’ in bed, she asked for a packet of Sudafed. “Ah, the good stuff,” the pharmacist said with a smile.

Within 24 hours, my symptoms had all but disappeared. It was the kind of relief I had not felt in years.

This might seem anecdotal, and it is. But it reflects a growing body of public sentiment, one that questions whether the pseudoephedrine ban ever really made sense, and whether it punished ordinary New Zealanders far more than it hindered organised crime.
What the ban was supposed to do

The cold and flu pills with the active ingredient became a target because the pseudoephedrine can be easily extracted and then chemically converted into methamphetamine. At the time, “P” labs were being discovered in garages, rental properties and motels across the country.

Pharmacies, which stocked products like Sudafed, were increasingly being targeted in burglaries. The logic was simple - choke off the precursor and you choke off domestic meth supply.

But what happened instead was more complicated.

The shift to importation

Official data shows that while the 2011 ban on pseudoephedrine did result in a noticeable decline in small-scale, domestic methamphetamine production, it also coincided with a dramatic rise in large-scale importation of the drug. Organised crime syndicates, both local and international, quickly adapted. Rather than going through the risky and complicated process of manufacturing meth locally, often in makeshift labs using stolen cold medications, they turned to direct importation of the finished product.

By 2016, this shift was impossible to ignore. That year, New Zealanders were stunned by news that half a tonne of meth had been smuggled into the country and buried in the sand dunes of Ninety Mile Beach. At the time, it was the biggest drug bust in the nation’s history. But it did not remain exceptional for long. Since then, customs and police have reported an increasing number of large-scale seizures, some hidden in shipping containers, others concealed in vehicles or even machinery.

The quantities involved are not only larger but also more frequent. What was once considered extraordinary has, alarmingly, become routine. The market is now dominated by transnational criminal groups using increasingly sophisticated methods to move meth across borders, often outpacing enforcement efforts. The ban that aimed to cut off supply inadvertently accelerated a transition to industrial-scale meth trafficking, with New Zealand now considered a lucrative endpoint for syndicates operating out of Mexico, Southeast Asia and China - where a kilo can be bought for as little as $2k and sell here for $150k.

The dark net

Using basic tools available to anyone with a laptop and an internet connection, I decided to see just how easy it is to access the dark net drug market. I downloaded the latest version of Tails OS, a privacy-focused operating system designed to leave no trace, and used Balena Etcher to flash the image onto a USB stick. After plugging it into an old laptop and booting from USB through the BIOS, I was securely connected to the Tor network within minutes.

From there, I accessed Nexus Market, one of several dark net marketplaces where illicit drugs are openly traded. The interface was surprisingly polished and familiar - almost like Trade Me, but for drugs. I scrolled through hundreds of listings, many from verified vendors offering bulk quantities of meth at prices far below what is typically seen on New Zealand streets.

One verified seller, operating out of Germany under the name Berghains, offered 10 grams for €204, around NZD $385. That is just $38.50 a gram, compared to the New Zealand street price of $250 to $400, that’s a bloody bargain. Another seller, TheOxyMen in the UK, was offering 7 grams for £140, just over NZD $300 - just a tad more expensive.

Like Trade Me, these vendors had detailed feedback, user reviews and transaction histories. It was disturbingly normal.

Once my research was done, I simply pulled the USB stick running Tails OS from the laptop without bothering to shut down or eject it properly. Instantly, the screen went black and the system powered off. That’s the nature of Tails - it’s designed to run entirely from the USB, leaving no trace on the hard drive. The moment the power is cut or the USB is removed, everything vanishes. No history, no saved data, no digital footprint. It was as if I had never been there at all.

And just like that, the myth that meth in New Zealand starts with a stolen pack of Sudafed falls apart.

What we really lost

The ban did make a dent in one metric, local meth lab discoveries. But it came at a steep cost, one paid not by criminals, but by ordinary people seeking relief from seasonal illness.

In place of pseudoephedrine, the government offered phenylephrine, a substitute that, numerous studies and widespread anecdotal reports confirm, is dramatically less effective. In fact, in 2023, the FDA in the United States declared oral phenylephrine no better than a placebo.

For over a decade, Kiwis suffered longer colds, more sinus infections and unnecessary doctor’s visits, all while the meth market simply restructured itself offshore.
A policy that looked good on paper

In theory, the 2011 ban was a proactive strike against methamphetamine. In practice, it was an overcorrection. It shut down some backyard drug labs, but it opened the door to international syndicates, encrypted shipments and far more sophisticated smuggling operations.

The irony is striking, to curb one type of meth production, we opened the floodgates to another, far larger supply chain that we now struggle to contain.

The return of common sense?

The decision to allow over-the-counter sales of pseudoephedrine, led by ACT and supported by coalition partners, was met with cautious optimism. Critics argue that it may rekindle domestic meth production. But so far, there is little evidence that “P” cooks are lining up at pharmacies.

The more likely scenario is that New Zealanders will finally be able to treat the common cold with effective medicine, without being caught in the crossfire of a failed drug war.

As the country re-evaluates drug policy in an age of globalised crime and digital anonymity, perhaps it is time we admit that banning Sudafed did not stop meth. It just made life harder for everyone else.

Matua Kahurangi is just a bloke sharing thoughts on New Zealand and the world beyond. No fluff, just honest takes. He blogs on https://matuakahurangi.com/ where this article was sourced.