Nicotine Isn’t Killing You. So Why Quit? | #61

Nicotine Isn’t Killing You. So Why Quit? – Episode 61

The Kill The Can Podcast
Recorded: August 19th, 2026

Good evening, quitters, and welcome to the Kill The Can Podcast.

This wasn’t an episode that I had planned on recording this week. Actually, it wasn’t even really on my radar until I got into what turned into a pretty lengthy discussion over on X, or Twitter.

If you’ve been around social media for any period of time, you know that most Twitter arguments really aren’t worth anyone’s time. And I will preface all these comments by saying I still call it Twitter. I know it’s called X.

Most arguments really aren’t worth anything. People dig in, they try to score points, and nobody ever changes their mind.

This conversation was a little bit different.

Not because I think I won, and not because the other guy won, but because after thinking about it for a while, I realized we weren’t actually arguing about nicotine.

We were arguing about something a little bit bigger.

We were arguing about what success actually looks like when it comes to quitting.

My History With Nicotine

For those of you joining the Kill The Can Podcast for the first time, my name is Chewie. I’ve been nicotine-free since July 24th, 2006.

I just passed the 20-year mark.

I dipped tobacco for almost 20 years. Kodiak Wintergreen primarily, along with Skoal Wintergreen, Skoal Bandits, Skoal Cherry, Copenhagen, and those kinds of things.

Like a lot of you, I tried quitting more times than I can count.

I justified it.

I negotiated with myself.

I convinced myself that I needed it. I convinced myself that it was a part of who I was.

Then, finally, I got sick and tired of living that way. I made my decision that I was going to quit, and I found a group of people on the internet that ultimately became KillTheCan.org.

That’s still why I’m involved to this day.

It’s not because I hate tobacco companies necessarily, though I do hate Big Tobacco for sure. It’s not because I hate smokers. It’s not because I hate nicotine users.

I think Kill The Can exists because we know what addiction feels like, and we know what freedom feels like.

And those two things are very, very different.

The Tweet That Started It

As I mentioned, this whole thing began with a tweet, and it started with something completely unrelated.

I posted a picture of one of our Pennsylvania quit meets.

If you’re familiar with those meets, it was just a bunch of quitters getting together, sharing stories, having a drink, getting to know one another, and building the bonds of brotherhood that we talk about.

These are people who used to use and people who don’t use anymore.

I don’t remember exactly what I wrote in the tweet. I think it was something to the effect of, “Man, this was an amazing weekend. I wish I could go back.”

I was feeling a little nostalgic at the time.

I got one reply specifically, and the reply asked:

“Why do you want people to quit using something that’s nearly harmless while cigarettes continue killing hundreds of thousands every year?”

On one hand, that’s actually a fair question.

If you look at disease—if, as an example, your only goal is reducing cancer and deaths from cancer—his question makes a lot of sense.

If nicotine doesn’t cause cancer, why not just switch everybody over?

Problem solved, right?

Except that’s not my personal goal.

Harm Reduction vs. My Goal

I think this is where the entire discussion went sideways, because we’re really not trying to accomplish the same thing.

This guy is a harm-reduction person, and I’ve been dealing with harm-reduction folks for almost my entire quit.

A harm-reduction person wants to reduce disease, reduce cancer, reduce smoking deaths—and all of those things are noble causes and good things.

For real. One hundred percent.

Seriously.

If someone quits smoking because they’ve switched to nicotine pouches or smokeless tobacco, I’m genuinely happy for them.

That is a better choice on a continuum than continuing to smoke cigarettes.

No question about it.

My personal mission, though, is different.

My mission isn’t just to help people smoke less.

I believe the best way to smoke less is to help people stop needing nicotine altogether.

That’s a different finish line.

This Isn’t Just About Cancer

Something interesting happened during this conversation.

He kept coming back to the same point: nicotine doesn’t kill people. Nicotine isn’t what causes smoking deaths. Nicotine is misunderstood. There are benefits to nicotine, etcetera.

Here’s the thing:

I don’t remember disagreeing with any of what he was saying, other than when he was saying there are benefits to nicotine.

I don’t think I’ve ever claimed nicotine is the primary cause of smoking-related cancer.

I wasn’t arguing toxicology.

I was arguing addiction.

That’s a completely different conversation.

What Does Success Look Like?

Here’s the question I want you to think about:

What is success? What does that look like?

Let’s imagine that cigarettes disappear tomorrow. They just don’t exist.

Every smoker switches to nicotine pouches. Nobody ever lights another cigarette.

Fantastic.

Genuinely. Seriously.

That would be a huge, huge public-health win.

But now imagine everybody stays addicted for the next 40 years.

Big Tobacco still has its customers.

People still panic if they run out.

People still organize their day around nicotine, the way I most certainly did.

People still can’t get through stressful situations without reaching for something.

Would I celebrate that?

I struggled with the answer to that.

While I would be happy that there were no more cigarette-related deaths, in the context of addiction, I don’t know that I would celebrate it.

Because while we’ve reduced disease, we haven’t restored freedom.

Reducing Harm vs. Eliminating Dependence

I think this is where the real philosophical split exists between me and this guy.

Some people will define success as:

“I no longer smoke.”

Kill The Can has always defined success very differently.

We’ve defined it as:

“I no longer use. I no longer need nicotine.”

Those aren’t the same thing.

One is about reducing harm—which, again, is a good thing. I’m not suggesting for one moment that it’s not.

The other is about eliminating dependence.

Big Tobacco, Funding and Incentives

The conversation took many twists and turns through multiple threads. It would probably be very difficult to go back and recreate the whole thing by reading through my profile.

Part of it was in DMs. Part of it wasn’t even on Twitter.

Eventually, though, it shifted toward funding.

Everything comes to money, right?

I pointed out that an organization promoting tobacco harm reduction was actively receiving funding connected to tobacco companies.

I want to be clear here:

Funding alone—and where you get your funds from—doesn’t automatically invalidate somebody’s argument.

Truth is still truth.

Truth still matters.

But I do think it’s fair to ask questions.

If a tobacco company profits every time somebody continues to buy nicotine, why would they financially support complete nicotine abstinence?

If you allow yourself to ask that question and play it out in your mind, the answer is: they wouldn’t.

Why would they?

It’s not a conspiracy.

That is business.

Big Tobacco has a responsibility to its shareholders.

Mine is to my brothers and sisters and the quitters at Kill The Can.

Those incentives are completely different.

I Called Him a “Shill”

There’s something I’ve been thinking about since I had this conversation, and there’s something I wish I had done a little bit differently.

I used the word “shill.”

I called him a shill.

In retrospect, I don’t know that I should have. I kind of fell into that “let’s win one on Twitter” mentality.

Do I think financial relationships matter?

Absolutely. One hundred percent.

But once I used that word, the discussion stopped being about nicotine.

It stopped being about our stances, and it became about him defending his reputation.

In retrospect, that’s probably where I lost an opportunity to have a better conversation—if there was a better conversation to be had on social media, which I’m not sure there was.

But I don’t mind admitting that.

We all say things in the heat of the moment that we would probably phrase differently at a later date.

The bigger issue isn’t whether one person was a “shill.”

Again, my words, not his.

The bigger issue is this:

Who benefits if people stay addicted forever?

If Nicotine Is Safe, Would You Still Want the Addiction?

Here’s the question I would leave you with, dear listener:

If nicotine is truly safe, would you still want to be addicted to it?

Not because you have to.

Because you choose to.

If your answer is yes, that’s your decision.

But if your answer is no, then maybe addiction itself deserves a little bit more attention than it’s getting.

People Deserve More Than a Safer Addiction

Wrapping up here, as I’ve said for 20 years now:

Smoking is bad.

Quitting smoking is better.

And, in my opinion, quitting nicotine is better still.

That’s never changed, and it’s not changing now.

If you’re a nicotine user today—and there are a lot of you—nicotine use has changed pretty significantly since I quit dipping.

There’s been a massive influx of nicotine pouch users, vaping users, and those kinds of things.

If you’re using nicotine, I’m not judging you.

I was you.

I was you for a long, long time.

If you’ve switched from cigarettes to pouches, good.

Genuinely, good.

I’m glad you’ve reduced your risk, because one of the worst things you can do is continue to smoke cigarettes.

I would just offer this:

Don’t let anybody convince you that your freedom isn’t worth pursuing because dependence has become more socially acceptable than it was in the past.

I think people deserve more than a safer addiction.

I think people deserve no addiction at all.

Thanks for listening. Thanks for your time.

For those of you who are quit, I’m honored to be quit with you.

If you have thoughts about this, I’d love to hear them. Leave me a comment here, head over to KillTheCan.org, or find me on your favorite social media platform.

Until next time…

Cheers, quitters.