ME AND BARRY MCCAFFREY

As the Bush administration came into town, Clinton appointees went out,
including Gen. Barry McCaffrey who resigned his position as U.S. drug czar
in January.

I met McCaffrey several years ago at a small dinner party put on by the
Brazilian Embassy in Washington, D.C. He walked up and introduced himself
simply by name, something which stands out favorably in a town where every
junior deputy assistant undersecretary likes to make you aware of his title.
Barry was a fit-looking, outgoing fellow of about 60. I recognized his name,
but wasn't 100 percent sure of the context, so after exchanging
pleasantries, I cut to the chase:

"Say, aren't you the current drug czar?"

"Yes."

"And weren't you previously a lieutenant general?"

"Four star." Score one for Barry. I hate to lack command of the facts.

"Wow. Aren't you concerned that if the military gets involved in the war on
drugs they'll become as corrupt as the DEA?"

"No, not really." It seemed a sincere answer, delivered in a way that was at
once affable and straightforward.

"You know, you seem like a decent guy. How'd you ever get into the drug czar
business?"

Barry took no umbrage. "Well, I was somewhat at loose ends, and they really
pressed me into it." A far different answer than the arrogant and
authoritarian bluenose William Bennett would have had to give.

I was starting to get a better feel for the man. Friends know one of my
hobbies is creating ugly scenes with public figures; I describe one that
took place with the aforementioned William Bennett in "Crisis Investing for
the Rest of the 90's," and recount those with Dick Cheney, James Carville
and X "Bud" McFarlane, among others, in previous issues of International
Speculator. It's perhaps one reason I'm not invited out in polite company as
often as might otherwise be the case.

But I didn't get a bad feeling from McCaffrey; it wasn't a rhetorical device
on my part when I remarked he seemed like a decent guy. And, unlike many
others, he appeared to be a man worthy of respect. So rather than trying to
humiliate and embarrass him (which, for better or worse, tends to be my
default mode when dealing with a suspected sociopath or most political
figures), I found myself trying to get a grip on exactly where he was coming
from:

"Listen, you know the Drug War isn't going to be any more successful than
Prohibition was in the '20s. But it's creating a whole new class of
criminals, and destroying the freedoms that actually made this country
different from any other. And, entirely apart from that, there really isn't
any more of a drug problem than there is an alcohol, or tobacco, or sugar,
or fat problem. It's become a mass hysteria." By this time a group had
gathered about us, their curiosity piqued by the fact someone at a society
event was talking about something other than the weather, the state of the
roads, or the tenor of Placido Domingo's voice.

McCaffrey started to answer, but then some guy, a lobbyist/lawyer, put in
his two cents worth in defense of the insane war on drugs. The good general
used that as an excuse to bow out, and join another small group, something I
also did as quickly as possible. I hate lobbyists.

Later in the evening, as everyone was departing, I again saw Barry at the
door:

"Well, it was certainly nice having chatted with you earlier, however
briefly. It's probably a good thing I don't have a controlled substance on
my person, otherwise it might not have been so mellow."

To my surprise, the comment caused his face to flush, and elicited an
emotional response completely out of character with his earlier persona: "If
you were, I'd see you in jail tonight." Maybe Barry took my words as a
personal challenge, or maybe he just took his job seriously. I'm not sure.

"Well, that's the problem. Me, and tens of millions of others. But rest
assured I'm not carrying. I don't personally use drugs, and generally eschew
the company of those who do. This is an ethical and philosophical issue, not
one that can be addressed by putting people in jail. Notwithstanding our
differences, it was nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Best of luck."

So ended our meeting. I would have enjoyed spending some private time with
McCaffrey, and maybe the opportunity will present itself in the future.
McCaffrey is a soldier, and although I'm automatically suspicious of flag
officers, he's also a Medal of Honor winner, with two Silver Stars, two
DSCs, three Purple Hearts -- so he's more than just a ticket-punching
bureaucrat on the make.

Some disturbing allegations:

Then came the expose by Seymour Hersh in May 22, 2000, The New Yorker of
what may have happened at the so-called Battle of Rumaila.

In this episode, which took place two days after the ceasefire, a
5-mile-long column of retreating Iraqis was completely wiped out by
McCaffrey's command on the pretense they were about to attack. In fact, all
evidence indicates they were totally cowed, in terror, and trying to
surrender a second time as the attack was mounted. I wasn't there, but my
reading of the facts are that it was a completely unjustified and
unjustifiable mass murder, the type of thing which should have brought
McCaffrey before a court martial.

Several of his three-star colleagues Hersh quotes believe he was just
looking for a fight, even though the war was over. But that's another story.

Whatever might have happened in Iraq, Barry did far more damage as drug
czar.

A new form of corruption:

In the first place, it's a bad idea employing high-ranking military officers
in the government, certainly if they have anything to do with paramilitary
enforcement agencies like the DEA. Referring to soldiers, Gibbon correctly
observed that, whatever their virtues, any class of men accustomed at once
to violence and slavery make poor guardians of the commonweal. McCaffrey's
reign as drug czar is just one of many signs that the U.S. military is
becoming active in the drug wars. It was he who got the U.S. involved in the
Colombian tar baby over the last years, among other things.

But the most outrageous of Barry's legacies is the government's spending
$200 million a year to buy ads on radio, TV, magazines and newspapers to
promote its insane war on drugs.

Under McCaffrey, prodded by Clinton, the U.S. government became one of the
largest advertisers in the world, using taxpayers dollars to influence the
content and message of the media. Clinton was seconded by Gingrich (who
apparently wanted to execute drug users) when he announced the billion
dollar ad campaign to "knock America upside the head," putting the insane
war on drugs into high gear. In his announcement speech, Clinton recalled
his younger brother Roger's problems with cocaine, but didn't mention
Roger's observation that Bill's nose turned into a vacuum cleaner whenever a
certain white powder was available. My guess is that the anti-drug ad
campaign will only serve to raise awareness of drugs, thereby, perversely,
increasing potential demand. Most kids see the ads as propaganda, and
they've become the butt of jokes, serving only to raise kids curiosity.

An excellent expose of the government's drug ad campaign is available at
Salon.com in an article by Daniel Forbes which underlines its highly
corrupting effect.

Today the media takes payola to push a drug message. Tomorrow a foreign
policy, or industrial policy, or immigration, or tax policy message. Before
you know it, "The Running Man" (a not-very-tongue-in-cheek Schwarzenegger
movie) will become a reality. If the DEA gets away with this, and all
indications are they will, then any and every government agency can buy ads
to bribe the media to propagandize, and justify its existence. This isn't
just a matter of running government "public service" ads, which is bad
enough. What's happening is they're altering scripts, and commissioning
sympathetic writers to tell stories (in at least 17 identified syndicated
programs) with the right spin. In return for giving an anti-drug spin to the
scripts, the government allows them to sell its advertising to other,
high-paying advertisers, using the message in the shows in lieu of actual
ads.

Corporate executives are shameless whores even in the best of times; they
don't much care where the revenue comes from, or what it requires of them.
When times get tough in the next few years, they'll probably vie with each
other to kowtow to the government, since that's where all the money is. And
it's so much cleaner to pay off than it is to be blackmailed the way J.
Edgar Hoover used to do it.

The future:

I'm not terribly optimistic things are going to get better any time soon,
simply because most Americans have become so spineless.

A good example is what happened to a friend a while back when he took a
commuter plane back to the U.S. from the BVI. When it landed on the tarmac
the plane was greeted by a Hummer carrying a half dozen paramilitary types
in black jumpsuits, several sporting automatic weapons. One stuck his head
in the plane and told the passengers to disembark, on further command, in
groups of four, so they could stand by their baggage while it was inspected
by drug dogs.

Everybody not only did as ordered, but apparently approved of being herded
like sheep; my friend's wife grumbled about the procedure to another
passenger, who said she was pleased that the government was on the job. In
fact all 20 passengers (with the exception of my friends) were not only
docile but ingratiating while being subjected to interrogation, inspection
and indignities.

I'd like to think that, in a nobler, by-gone era, proper Americans would
have disarmed their captors and thrashed them half to death before
delivering them to the local sheriff.

What a bunch of whipped dogs.

Legendary speculator Doug Casey logs 150,000 miles a year, trekking through
jungles, deserts and high mountain passes, while his readers sit home and
collect returns of 400 percent, 4,170 percent, even 10,060 percent. He is
the author of the best-selling "Crisis Investing" and "The International
Man." He also edits the newsletter International Speculator.