A CEASEFIRE FOR THE "WAR ON DRUGS"

WE WERE somewhere around the 1970s on the edge of the Acid Wave when
the drug war began to take hold. The politically typical thing to say
today is that the so-styled "War on Drugs" is without foreseeable
victory -- and how unfortunate, really. Almost without exception,
however, America regards its beloved war as one worth fighting. And
it is, to an extent. But the tactics need some adjustment to
accomplish anything beyond the current, hopeless stalemate. The most
crucial step to changing America's atrociously flawed drug policy is
to reevaluate our rules of engagement, so to speak. If we don't, we
continue along a path to nowhere, entrenched in a war with endless
enemies and no peace in sight.

If you reread my first paragraph, you will hopefully notice the
absurd way martial analogies pervade even casual discourse. We are
fighting a war. Drugs are the enemy. Enemies must be killed, etc. The
militant analogies swell further when politicians rant about "an
all-out offensive" against "public enemy number one," as Nixon did
during the dope-sodden 1970s. Such unthinking saber rattling
strangulates thoughtful debate, it removes the tactics from rational
discussion (we are at war, mind you), and it brands anyone with a
different opinion a dissenter and, therefore, a traitor

As my horrific first paragraph no doubt suggests, the limited lexicon
from which we draw our descriptions of American's drug problem
cripples our ability to deal with it. The height of ignorance and
inarticulacy, of course, being American policy regarding marijuana.

American media and politicians hone tactics to excuse illogical,
senseless, even blatantly racist public policy -- you've all seen it
- -- they eagerly "declare war." By issuing haughty proclamations,
politicians submerge the issue in a climate of fear and images of
struggle, and they adjust their accountability accordingly.

When drug addiction becomes worthy of (often unjust) imprisonment
rather than treatment, the consequences are lumped under the
disgraceful terms, "collateral damage," or a "casualty in the war on
drugs." In other words, the terminology regarding the drug war has
outlived its usefulness. We need new vocabularies, and thus new policies.

There is no longer (nor was there ever) the need for certain statutes
- -- mainly the intense prosecution for marijuana violations -- that
originated during the time when "Reefer Madness," a propaganda film
portraying marijuana as the impetus for rape, murder, domestic
violence, and schizophrenia, was considered insightful medical commentary.

As it happens, the city of Denver recently legalized possession of
modest amounts (under one ounce) of marijuana. And they have done so,
shockingly enough, without a scourge of dope-crazed rapists and
killers. Perhaps they dodged a bullet there, but I think the Denver
example is evidence that drugs aren't all equally detrimental to
society, and therefore they do not all deserve to bear the same
consequences (or cultural taboo, for that matter).

Specific, less dangerous drugs like marijuana ought to be considered
similarly to less stigmatized substances -- cigarettes and alcohol,
for example. Though even that exaggerates its dangers.

This column is far too brief to discuss the minutia of marijuana
legislation, but allow me to clarify this point with some statistics.
According to the National Council on Alcohol and Drug Dependency,
more than 100,000 Americans die each year as a result of alcohol
consumption. Additionally, in the United States, there are an average
of nearly 360,000 tobacco-related deaths annually. These are
astonishingly high numbers for two substances that are legal, albeit
well regulated.

Compare those casualty rates with those of marijuana. Statistics on
the matter of marijuana-related deaths range from zero to around a
dozen or so, but nearly every reputable source is loath to attribute
any deaths to the supposedly madness-inducing weed. Alcohol and
tobacco kill more people annually than atomic weaponry ever has.
Judging strictly by the numbers, we always seem to miss the real
weapons of mass destruction.

During war, as President Bush parrots frequently, one is either "with
us" or "against us." Obviously, anyone who challenges American
lawmakers or their war making knows precisely to which side he or she
belongs. Hence, war analogies. It makes disagreement treasonous and
skepticism seditious. An effective strategy, you must admit.

It seems a bit curious that while marijuana is outright banned,
alcohol and tobacco dwell comfortably on nearly every college campus.
Which is okay, even great. But our standards for regulation ought to
have some ringing of justice and fairness. Other states will be well
served to move, however gradually, toward the progressive example of
decriminalizing legislation set by Denver. By finally matching
punishment with the gravity of the crime, we might finally be able to
declare victory in a war against a more fearsome foe, stupid wars.