NEW LAW ISN'T JUST ANTIDRUG, ITS ANTIPARTY

I have to admit, I've never been to a rave party. For me, not only
have those days come and gone, they never were. I know about them,
though. Rave parties are loud, raucous affairs, where young adults
dance into the early morning to the pounding beat of electronic music.
And there is often drug use, the methamphetamine known as Ecstasy to
be exact.

The trick in a free society, where cultural expression -- even the
annoyingly unmelodic kind -- must be allowed to flourish, is to punish
illegal behavior without disturbing the exuberance of art and expression.

But communities and law enforcement aren't interested in such
deftness. It is far easier to go after the rave parties themselves
than to focus on the actual drug dealers inside. Close the raves and
you solve the problem. The "war on drugs" shakes hands with the
culture war, making both prohibitionists and moralists happy -- all
who matter from a political vantage.

The government's antagonism toward raves has been apparent for years.
In an information bulletin put out by the Department of Justice in
2001, the department described raves as commercialized events that
were "little more than an exploitation of American youth."

The bulletin listed ways that communities and law enforcement agencies
were "curtail[ing] rave activity," such as by strictly enforcing fire
codes, enacting juvenile curfews and establishing new licensing rules
for large public gatherings.

Yet, even in the face of this kind of hostility, the rave culture has
thrived. So in April, Congress added another arrow to the quiver of
the anti-rave effort.

The Illicit Drug Anti-Proliferation Act, formerly known as the RAVE
Act, passed without a single hearing. Sen. Joe Biden, D-Delaware,
inserted it into the popular Amber Alert bill, the bill creating a
nationwide kidnapping early-warning system, during the conference
committee. It had not been part of either the Senate or House versions.

The law threatens dance club owners and event promoters with 20 years
in prison and $250,000 fines if prosecutors can show they
intentionally allowed drug use on the premises.

Critics warned that such stiff penalties and the mere fear of
prosecution would sharply curtail the rave scene. But the law's
defenders and Biden in particular insisted that it would be so
narrowly applied there would be no chilling effect.

"The purpose of my legislation," said Biden to his colleagues in
Congress, "is not to prosecute legitimate, law-abiding managers of . .
. venues because of incidental drug use at their events." Biden said
his bill would only impact "rogue promoters" who put on events "for
the purpose of" illicit drug use.

Ah, promises, promises. Put a broadly written law in the hands of
police and the rational constraints claimed by the law's sponsors can
easily go poof. It didn't take long for the nightmare scenario laid
out by the law's opponents to come true.

Last month, a Drug Enforcement Administration agent hand-delivered a
copy of the law to the manager of the Fraternal Order of Eagles Lodge
in Billings, Mont., just a few hours before the local chapters of the
National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws and Students
for a Sensible Drug Policy were scheduled to hold a benefit concert.
The money raised was to go to underwrite a campaign to get a medical
marijuana initiative on the 2004 ballot.

According to media reports about the incident, the Eagles Lodge
manager wasn't threatened or told to cancel the concert by Special
Agent in Charge Jeff Sweetin, who runs the DEA's Rocky Mountain
Division, but she was told if there was drug use on the premises the
owners could be fined $250,000.

Not surprisingly, the lodge canceled the event.

In trying to figure out whether this is the start of a trend, and we
will soon find the DEA at the door of rave clubs and drug-legalization
fund-raising events waving around the new law for effect, I spoke with
Will Glaspy, a DEA spokesman in Washington.

He refused to discuss the specifics of the Billings incident but said
the law should be used against an "owner or promoter who is putting on
an event in order to facilitate drug trafficking," implying that the
Billings case was an aberration. But when asked if the Billings case
would be the subject of an internal investigation, Glaspy refused to
say. He also refused to say whether the DEA had guidelines narrowly
construing what was illegal under the Rave Act.

Biden's office says it wants better answers than these and is formally
asking for an accounting.

What is needed is safe harbor language. Give club owners a list of
actions they can take to protect themselves from liability, such as
hiring security guards to watch for drug activity in the club.

Certainty is the key. Otherwise, raves will be driven further
underground. The drug use won't end, but the basic health precautions
that legitimate businesses provide will.

Music, dancing and subculture expression are just the newest victims
of the drug war.

So party on, that is, until the government knocks on your door to tell
you about a new law . . .