GIVE ME LIBRIUM OR GIVE ME METH!

The Annual Fourth of July Smoke-In Points To A Rift In The Anti-Drug
War Movement

"I'm not a very popular person in the drug reform movement, because
I'm encouraging people to come out here and brazenly smoke pot!"

John Pylka might be right about his relative popularity, but you
wouldn't know it from the bustling crowd of hippies, drug law
reformers, and other marginal characters who cheered his frank
proclamation at the Annual Fourth of July Smoke-In Rally. The event
was held, appropriately enough, on Independence Day, directly across
16th Street from the White House, in full view of the U.S. Park
Police. Also present: thousands of clear-eyed patriotic revelers who
chose to celebrate without the benefits of THC.

Pylka and his merry band were trying to show a unified front against
the War on Drugs. A police spokesman said that they no longer give
crowd estimates, though Pylka guessed that the crowd at the Smoke-In
was 20,000. Who could say for sure? All I know is that it amounted to
a pretty big haze. While the Smoke-In, a subsequent parade, and
dueling concerts delivered an amusing thumb in Big Brother's eye, the
day's events also highlighted the sharp divisions that keep the
anti-drug-war crowd from becoming an effective political force.

Conservative icon William F. Buckley Jr. sent tremors through the
political world some years back when he opined that the drug war
probably wreaked more havoc on society than it was worth. It
undoubtedly gave the movement a wider audience and more mainstream
support. But needless to say, it was not Buckley who led thousands of
drug-taking protestors directly through the heart of D.C.'s annual
Fourth of July celebrations.

No, leading a parade of pot smokers that went from Lafayette Park to
a concert stage near the corner of Constitution Avenue and 23rd
Street was a woman calling herself Medical Marijuana Barbie. In
addition to her Ph.D. in pharmacology, she came armed with flaming
pink hair and a shirt that read "Legalize cunnilingus and cannabis
now." She invited everyone along the parade route, including
uniformed police officers and wide-eyed grannies, to come along:
"We're going to smoke some pot. Join us." Barbie's long line of
friends chanted "We smoke pot and we like it a lot," carried signs
that said things like "Free the Weed" and "At least it's not crack,"
and openly passed joints among themselves to prove that they practice
what they preach.

The notion that conservatives and hippies might have a hard time
standing shoulder to shoulder to fight the War on Drugs comes as no
surprise. Buckley may have appeared on Laugh-In back in the day, but
most conservatives today still hate hippies with a Spiro Agnew-level
intensity. Their contempt for the drug war stems more from its
failure than the idea that people should actually be free to get high
on something other than single-malt whiskey.

The rift on the left-wing end of the anti-drug war movement is more
surprising. Pylka founded the Fourth of July Hemp Coalition, and for
almost two decades he has walked the bureaucratic minefield to garner
a federal permit to use Lafayette Park. He said he has been in
federal court three times to secure the right to assemble in the
high-profile venue. He earned his prison stripes in 1985, the year he
said he got busted with a pound of pot in front of the White House,
an infraction for which he served about a month. The fortysomething
Pylka even looks the part of hippie zealot, complete with long curly
hair, gray shorts, a purple tie-dye shirt, black dress socks,
respectable brown oxfords, and a guitar (he kicked off the rally with
his rendition of "This land is your land").

Yet despite those formidable hippie credentials, Pylka said he gets
no respect from the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana
Laws, which he openly criticized at the mike in Lafayette Park. He
said NORML objected to his in-your-face tactics, and preferred its
members to get high behind the scenes. He complained that "NORML
would not endorse this demonstration... That's a sham. It is. It's an
insult." He later referred to the group's organization as "their
stupid NORML chapters." A few times during the tirade, warbling
voices from the crowd contributed "Down with NORML!"

Keith Stroup, NORML's executive director, said in a Thursday phone
interview he likes Pylka and admires his contribution to the cause,
but admitted that NORML prefers a more toned-down approach. "I would
love to see the [Fourth of July event] become more mainstream. Maybe
John sees that as a bad word." Stroup said he was unaware that Pylka
had approached NORML for an endorsement, or that the organization had
turned him down. He pointed out, correctly, that NORML had a table
set up beside the stage at the end of the parade. Still, Stroup said
he was concerned that America's un-stoned millions, unaccustomed to
such open displays of indulgence, might come away from the
demonstration even more committed to the mistaken notion that the
average pot smoker is "the long-haired hippie in the park."

"I would say that when you share the Mall with middle-class
Americans, our goal is not to diminish their experience in visiting
Washington. I don't want to somehow frighten them. I want to extend a
friendly hand."

In the end, the Medical Marijuana Barbies of the world are going to
have to agree on some common ground with the Keith Stroups and
William F. Buckleys of the world if they are ever going to negotiate
an end to the War on Drugs. That might be tough, given the different
personalities, predispositions, and belief systems involved.

But there is hope. I noticed that Barbie's open invitation to smoke a
little pot drew far more chuckles than angry retorts from the
wholesome Americans who heard it along the parade route. I should
also point out that the crowd was quite a bit larger at the end of
the march than it was in the beginning. More than a few grannies, it
seems, may have taken her up on the offer.