WHAT'S WRONG WITH PROP. 36? ASK THE ADDICTS

SACRAMENTO--One problem we have in fighting the "war on drugs" is that
anybody who ever smoked a few joints--and I suspect that's most of us who
partied in the '70s--considers himself an expert.

And with this anecdotal expertise comes an ingrained fear that one day some
cop still is going to slap on the cuffs and haul us off to the slammer. Why
aren't they going after the rapists and the killers instead of this harmless
little pot smoker?

Never mind that marijuana was decriminalized in California a generation ago.
There's usually more punishment for getting a speeding ticket than for
possessing less than an ounce of weed. And because voters passed Proposition
215 four years ago, virtually anybody with a headache can claim entitlement
to some cannabis.

Now from largely the same outfit that gave us Prop. 215 comes Prop. 36, a
step toward decriminalization of hard drugs. It feeds off the conventional
wisdom that we've lost the war on drugs. In truth, we've lost some battles
and won others.

For example, between 1979 and 1992, the number of Americans using illegal
drugs fell from 23.8 million to 11.4 million, according to the Drug Free
America Foundation. But since then, the number has risen to 14.8 million.
The Florida-based organization mainly blames the Clinton administration for
significantly cutting back on anti-drug message money.

But Prop. 36 has nothing to do with anti-drug education. Nor is it about
grounding attack helicopters headed for the Colombian poppy fields or
spending less trying to intercept Mexican smugglers. It's about how to
handle the Californians convicted of possessing the hard stuff--heroin,
cocaine, crack, methamphetamine, PCP, "date rape" drugs.

Prop. 36 basically removes a judge's options. Currently, a judge can
sentence a druggie to the local jail or state prison, grant probation--or
route the user into one of the newer drug court programs.

In drug court, the addicts are assigned to intensive treatment and
threatened with jail if they blow off the program. The programs claim a
success rate in the 65% to 80% range.

Problem is, there's only room statewide for perhaps 7% of the addicts who
need the programs.

Up steps Prop. 36 with a requirement that Sacramento spend another $120
million annually for drug treatment. Of course, the governor and the
Legislature--awash in unexpectedly high tax revenues--should have been
spending that money and more voluntarily.

The state politicians did put up $18 million for the drug courts this year,
along with an additional $80 million for substance abuse prevention and
treatment. But there hasn't been the all-out fight against drugs that we've
seen for school reform or even tax cuts.

The most significant feature of Prop. 36, however, is its removal of the
jail threat for first- and second-time offenders convicted of "nonviolent
drug possession." All would be ordered into a treatment program. After a
third drug conviction, a judge could sentence the addict to jail for 30
days--or order yet more treatment.

Druggies who ducked out on treatment could be allowed two slip-ups. After
that, they'd be incarcerated for from one to three years.

The independent Legislative Analyst estimates that "after several years"
there'd be a net savings to taxpayers of from $100 million to $150 million
because of reduced incarceration costs. The analyst figures that at any
given time, there'd be 11,000 fewer drug offenders in prison.

Myself, I'd feel safer knowing that all these loose addicts were clean and
weren't coming after my VCR or some neighbor girl with a vial of "date rape"
drug. Prosecutors say nobody goes to prison just for first-time simple drug
possession; if that's their rap, they've pleaded down from some more serious
crime.

The crucial question is whether an immediate jail threat is needed to coerce
an addict into treatment and make it work.

Or would Prop. 36 suffice--treatment with slip-up privileges and a vague
vision of possible jail time.

I asked some real experts: graduates of drug court programs. All said they
couldn't have gotten clean without a lockup--or at least the threat.

"I was scared to death," says Beth Stephens, 38, a former Oakland meth
addict. "You don't realize it until you finally get the slam-down. Until you
get the cuffs on and you're in holding. And that's the truth."

Marcella Wess, 36, of Redlands, says, "I'd never done any jail time and I
didn't want to. It didn't look pretty. That's one thing still keeping me
clean."

She describes Prop. 36 as "your get-out-of-jail-free card."

Both sides are right. Much more treatment is needed. But so are
consequences. Carrots need sticks.