TIME TO RETREAT FROM A WAR WE CAN NEVER WIN

Reporting on a citywide sweep of drug dealers some 15 years ago left me
astonished as handcuffed suspect after handcuffed suspect got hauled before
magistrates working overtime. The spectacle suggested that a great blow had
been delivered against the forces of evil. But while the streets may have
become a little safer, the roundup had a transient effect.

One drug dealer's misfortune became another's business opportunity. Before
long it was time to round up a new crop of dealers. Covering court in more
recent years and seeing how drug-related cases clogged the docket, I came
to question the effectiveness of what politicians hail as the "war on
drugs." It seemed pure folly to attempt to cure a sickness by decree.

What has criminalizing drug use wrought? We have stoked gangsterism in
cities large and small, turned addicts into criminals who steal, rob and
perform sex acts for their next fix, and gone on a jail-building spree
while providing a good living for lawyers. Meanwhile, drug use goes on and on.

Not that this failure to banish drugs is surprising. If Prohibition taught
us anything, it's that substance abuse can't be legislated out of
existence. Erosion of rights Flouting the 18th Amendment's ban on alcohol
was the fashionable thing to do during the Roaring '20s as the demand for
liquor spawned a vicious and corrupting black market. Americans found out
there was something worse than allowing people to drink.

Today, we accept drinking as acceptable adult behavior. Far from smashing
barrels of beer, we get a chuckle over the cutesy commercials for Budweiser.

Our attitude has changed, not booze, which remains a potentially addictive,
judgment-impairing chemical. Contemporary society's relaxed stance toward
responsible drinking is coupled with vigilance in deterring alcohol abuse.
We appropriately treat alcoholism as a serious, lifelong illness, not
criminal behavior.

In jarring contrast to our tolerance of alcohol is our abhorrence of
so-called hard drugs. In a doomed effort to eradicate the addictive,
judgment-impairing chemicals found in pot, poppies and coca, we spend $17
billion and arrest 1.5 million people a year.

Our zeal goes beyond locking people up. A disquieting article this month in
Harper's Magazine highlights how the drug war is eroding fundamental rights.

In the name of drug prohibition, we allow the use of anonymous informants,
the forfeiture of property without arrest and the lifetime
disenfranchisement of more than 1 million people, a disproportionate number
of whom are black, for having a few grams of crack. An innocent shot New
York City now has a policy for replacing doors erroneously knocked down by
drug agents. Tragically, last August in El Monte, Calif., 63-year-old Mario
Paz was shot in the back and killed because raiding agents thought he was
"reaching for something" as he was asked to put his hands on the bed.

No evidence of dealing was found in Paz's home, Harper's reports. The man
police were looking for had lived next door more than 15 years earlier.

Even if such ruthlessness was helping to win the drug war, collateral
damage like Paz's death is unacceptable. But "we aren't winning the drug
war," Darren White, head of New Mexico's state police, recently told the
press. "I can tell you because I'm fighting on the front lines every day."

What's the alternative? New Mexico Gov. Gary Johnson, a tax-cutting,
prison-building Republican, has dared to challenge conventional wisdom by
calling for an end to the drug war.

In its place, he favors a drug market that is regulated, taxed and tempered
by education about the perils of drug use. A teetotaling fitness fanatic,
Johnson doesn't want people hooked on drugs.

He does want a saner society.

He's right. Drug prohibition is bad policy.

It is failing to fix America's penchant for getting high.

It is endangering our rights, property and lives.

It offers a cure worse than the disease.