What Are We Even Doing? Why the West Coast Symposium Feels Like a Missed Opportunity
Each year in Palm Springs, the West Coast Symposium on Addictive Disorders draws hundreds of addiction treatment professionals from around the country. It promises insight, collaboration, and innovation. At first glance, it might seem like a powerful gathering of minds working to improve lives.
But if you're paying attention—really paying attention—it feels more like a showcase for marketing budgets than a gathering for change.
And honestly? We're left wondering: What are we even doing?
A Quick Look at the Cost Breakdown
$500–$750 per attendee registration
$549 just for an exhibitor badge
$2,000–$10,000 for a standard booth
$25,000+ for premium sponsorships
These numbers aren’t estimates. They’re real figures that providers spend—not on scholarships, not on sober housing, not on direct services—but on being seen.
And the question isn’t just how much is being spent… it's where the money goes.
Where the Money Actually Ends Up
The West Coast Symposium is organized by HMP Global, a for-profit event company. Here’s how the funds are allocated:
Corporate profit for HMP Global
Venue rental and logistics (La Quinta Resort, AV teams, catering, etc.)
Marketing materials (swag bags, brochures, signage)
Speaker honorariums and CE/CME accreditation
Event staff, registration platforms, technology, and digital campaigns
That’s all pretty standard for a conference—but here’s what’s not part of the budget:
No funding for individuals trying to afford sober living
No transportation stipends to help people get to meetings
No Narcan distributions or harm reduction initiatives
No scholarships for aftercare
No investment in communities hit hardest by addiction
In short: none of it goes to the people who need it most.
This Isn’t Resentment. It’s Confusion.
We aren’t writing this to throw stones or claim moral high ground. We're just confused.
How does a facility justify dropping five figures on a booth or lanyard sponsorship, while real people—actual humans, not logos—are fighting to stay sober with no support system?
If a center truly believes in long-term recovery, why not invest that money into the aftercare that actually sustains it?
If you claim to “care about outcomes,” then why prioritize branding over belonging?
We’ve heard facilities say they “support scholarships” or “invest in aftercare,” and we’re not here to discredit that. But that makes their presence at events like this even harder to understand. If you already know where the money should go—why not send it there?
It’s About Priorities
Let’s be real: the treatment industry isn’t suffering financially. If a center can drop $25,000 to get their name printed on a cocktail napkin, then we need to start asking:
Where is this excess money coming from—and why aren’t more people being helped with it?
Because behind the polished brochures and handshake deals is a much different reality:
A man walking out of treatment with no ride, no job, and no idea what’s next.
A mom trying to get her daughter into a sober living home but can’t afford the intake fee.
A 22-year-old who just got clean and is one missed paycheck from being back on the street.
None of these people are in Palm Springs. But they’re the reason this industry exists.
We Can—and Should—Do Better
We’re not saying education, collaboration, or conferences are inherently bad.
We’re saying: not at this cost. Not at the expense of the people we claim to serve.
Imagine what just half of the money spent on one conference could do:
Fund six months of sober housing for dozens of people
Supply Narcan and outreach to thousands in need
Build a robust scholarship program that bridges the gap between detox and stability
We don’t need more stages. We need more support.
A Closing Thought
The West Coast Symposium and those like it, are a symptom—not the problem. It reveals something bigger: a culture within this industry that celebrates visibility over impact, and spending over service.
And until we start asking tougher questions—and making more compassionate choices—those who need us most will keep slipping through the cracks.
We owe them more than that. We owe them everything.
