The Signal We Can’t Ignore: What Australia’s Wastewater Data Reveals About Nicotine

There’s something uniquely confronting about wastewater data.

It doesn’t rely on surveys, self-reporting, or assumptions about behaviour. It doesn’t bend to messaging or political framing. It simply measures what people are actually consuming.

And in the latest report from the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission, that signal is becoming harder to ignore.

Because when it comes to nicotine, the data is telling a story that cuts directly against the narrative many have come to accept.

Over the past several years, nicotine consumption in Australia has not declined. It has risen.

According to the National Wastewater Drug Monitoring Program, average nicotine consumption in capital cities now exceeds around 2,000 milligrams per 1,000 people per day, with late 2025 marking the highest levels ever recorded in metropolitan areas. In regional Australia, the figures are consistently higher, typically around 2,900 to 3,000 milligrams per 1,000 people per day.

There’s also a tension here that’s hard to ignore. We’re told that nicotine use increased during COVID, which is marked on the chart in orange. At the same time, claims have been made that use declined following the January 2024 restrictions, marked in red, most notably by Becky Freeman. But when you look at the wastewater data, that decline is far from obvious. If anything, the trend appears flat or even rising in parts. When real-world measurements don’t align with the narrative, it raises an important question, which one are we meant to trust?

In practical terms, that means regional areas are consuming roughly 30-40% more nicotine than capital cities.

For a country that has pursued some of the most aggressive tobacco control policies in the world, that is not a trivial detail. It is a signal.

What makes this even more striking is how consistent the pattern is.

Across every reporting period, regional consumption remains elevated. Capital city figures hover around the 2,000 mark, while regional data regularly pushes toward 3,000, with some sites exceeding 3,200 to 3,400 milligrams per 1,000 people per day.

This is not a temporary spike. It is a structural divide.

And structural divides usually point to deeper dynamics, differences in access, enforcement, affordability, or supply. In other words, the kind of factors that shape real-world behaviour far more than policy intent alone.

There is, of course, an important limitation to the data.

Wastewater analysis cannot distinguish between nicotine sources. It cannot tell us whether that nicotine comes from cigarettes, vapes, nicotine replacement therapies, or other products. It measures total consumption, not the form that consumption takes.

That uncertainty is often used to dismiss the findings.

But it shouldn’t be.

Because while we may not know exactly how people are consuming nicotine, we do know that they are, and at levels that are not declining.

If the goal of policy is to reduce harm, then understanding whether consumption is falling is a fundamental starting point. And right now, the answer appears to be no.

Perhaps the most revealing detail in the report is also the most understated:

“No consistent trends.”

After years of tightening restrictions, increasing taxes, and expanding enforcement efforts, the data do not show a clear downward trajectory. Instead, it shows fluctuation, variation, and in some cases, upward movement.

That is not what a system in control looks like.

So what explains this?

At a surface level, there are a few possibilities.

People may be substituting, moving away from cigarettes and toward less harmful nicotine products. If that is happening, it would represent a positive shift in terms of health outcomes, even if overall nicotine use remains stable.

Alternatively, consumption may be shifting into different supply channels. When access to regulated products becomes more difficult or more expensive, illicit markets tend to fill the gap. That doesn’t reduce demand, it simply changes how that demand is met.

Or, perhaps most concerningly, behaviour may not be changing in the way policy intends at all. People who might otherwise switch away from smoking may be staying where they are, either because alternatives are less accessible, less affordable, or less clearly understood.

The reality is likely a combination of all three.

But beneath these possibilities lies a more fundamental point.

Nicotine demand is persistent.

It does not disappear simply because policies become more restrictive. It adapts. It shifts. It finds new pathways.

This is not unique to nicotine. It is a well-established pattern across many areas of public policy. When demand remains strong, supply evolves to meet it, whether through legal channels or otherwise.

What the wastewater data provides is a rare window into that reality.

It bypasses assumptions and measures behaviour directly. And what it shows, consistently, is that nicotine use in Australia remains widespread, unevenly distributed, and resistant to simple policy solutions.

That does not mean efforts to reduce harm are misguided. It means they need to be grounded in how people actually behave, not how we might prefer them to behave.

Because ultimately, the question is not whether nicotine use exists.

It clearly does.

The question is whether the current approach is effectively shaping that use in a way that reduces harm, or whether it is simply reshaping the market without addressing the underlying demand.

Wastewater doesn’t provide all the answers.

But it does provide a signal.

And right now, that signal is clear.

Nicotine use in Australia is not disappearing. It is not even clearly declining. It is persistent, adaptive, and in some areas, increasing.

At some point, the conversation has to shift.

Because when the data continues to tell the same story, the issue is no longer what people are doing.

It is whether the system designed to influence that behaviour is actually working.