'TWAS EVER THUS THAT MAN CHOOSES HIS OWN POISON

Cursed be he who cannot raise his pipe without betraying self. If composure
be lost in smoke, tis frail man, not the wondrous weed, be judged at fault.

- --With apologies to the Bard.

The news, all but buried, that William Shakespeare may have numbered
marijuana and/or cocaine among his muses reminds us of the main reason why
the war against drugs, or alcohol, never can be won. Drugs often can be both
therapeutic and fun. When the 17th century clay pipes preserved at the
bard's home were examined by scientists, they determined that whoever smoked
them--we'd like to think it was old Will--might have owed his flights of
fancy in part to being stoned.

That is the one important idea left out of "Traffic," that puritanical
shotgun of a movie that hits every falsehood of the drug wars except the
most obvious one--the denial that drugs, legal and not, are for many lucky
users a pleasurable experience that ends there, without significant other
cost. Heresy, I know, but how else is one to explain the prevalence of use,
often by successful participants in thriving civilizations, down through the
ages?

Like sex, drugs can also be a source of pain and turmoil; they can be abused
and abusive, particularly when one is addicted. But the insistence that all
users are addicts and that all illegal drugs are universally destructive is
as silly as the assertion that all indulgence in sex, alcohol or legally
prescribed narcotics is pathological.

Personally, I cannot handle drugs. After sampling much that was forbidden in
my reckless youth, often ostensibly to improve writing or some other
performance, I would awake to confront the gibberish residue of the
evening's haze and ruefully admit to the mirror that I was no Shakespeare. A
more fearsome experience with alcohol led to the same conclusion. And so in
the interest of earning a regular paycheck, I regretfully abstain even from
a fine cabernet. Regretfully, because my abstinence is a sign of weakness
necessitated by my lack of moderation.

However, most people who I have known are quite different; they enjoy their
wine or various other hits and nonetheless work hard, pay taxes and have
been wonderful parents and spouses. What right do I have to demand that
their behavior be legally defined to accommodate my miserable lack of will
power?

Indeed, alcohol, my lead demon, has been an antidote to our otherwise
historically far-too-uptight culture. Arguably, the now forgotten tradition
of the evening cocktail hour brought some couples together more than any
other factor. In that seemingly bucolic Ozzie and Harriet period, the man
came home from work all frazzled and shed the tension of his workaday with a
quick "pop." Typically, the cocktail hour allowed time for the only
meaningful family conversation of the day.

In other cultures, the Tom Collins might be replaced with a bit of opium,
cocaine or marijuana. Even in our own history, the evidence is overwhelming
that the founding fathers grew hemp, and one can assume some of them
occasionally partook of the homegrown weed (which was not illegal until well
into the 20th century). Less is known as to whether their wives indulged,
but it is not farfetched to imagine that Martha or some other founding
father's wife occasionally rolled one of those homegrown joints for her
harried husband. Is it inconceivable that some of our most important
documents, say the Declaration of Independence, were written by authors who
were to some degree stoned? After all, if it was good enough for
Shakespeare, why not Jefferson?

Which brings one back to the folly of the drug war. The druggie daughter in
"Traffic," a top student and model citizen who suddenly degenerates, is
atypical. The overachievers who use drugs of one sort or another most often
do so to enhance their performance; they eschew anything that gets in the
way of that. Some slip along the way, but if we don't concede that the main
danger of drugs is their illegality and not their chemical properties, we
miss the point.

It is misguided law and the zealous enforcement of it that creates most of
the human tragedy associated with banned drugs. Even in "Traffic," the young
woman had to go to dangerous neighborhoods to secure her supply, at heavy
personal cost. This is little different than the personal carnage associated
with the era of alcohol prohibition.

The lessons of prohibition for both alcohol and drugs are the same: A
personal indulgence, which for most would normally be quite manageable, is
turned into the stuff of chaos and crime because of draconian laws. Yes, as
"Traffic" insists, treatment for those who need it is far preferable to
jailing people for a crime in which they are the victims. Yes, education and
prohibition for minors is necessary to reinforce the dangers of addiction.

But adults should be free to name their own poison, knowing that for many,
that is merely a figure of speech.