Drugs
Addictive justice
Washington, DC

SOMETHING strange is happening in a court in Washington, D. C. Judge
Jose Lopez descends from his usual lofty position on the bench, walks to
the middle of the court, and offers a deal to a dozen or so defendants.
All are drug takers, and all are on minor charges. The judge offers them
the chance to be put on probation, or even have their case dropped,
rather than be sent to jail if they are found guilty. But first of all
they must successfully complete an unusual scheme to wean them off
drugs. All the defendants sign up.

The scheme is unusual because, in the judge's words, it relies on a
combination of "sanctions and love". It is also unusual because there is
some evidence that it works. As a result dozens of similar schemes, known
as "drug courts", are being set up across America.

Twice a week the defendants are obliged to take a drugs test. If the
test is positive, the judge delivers a punishment the

next day. The punishments are short, but increasingly sharp if the
defendant continues to test positive. As a first rap, the defendant
spends three days sitting in the court, observing others being tried. If
that doesn't work, he spends three days in jail; then seven days in a
detoxification clinic; then seven days in jail; and soon.

The "love" part of the scheme means, in practice, intensive drug
treatment if the defendants demand it, plus concern and encouragement
from the judge. A computer terminal on the bench gives him uptodate
information, such as test results and progress reports, about all the
defendants.

Adele Harrell and Shannon Cavanagh of the Urban Institute, a thinktank,
recently released preliminary results of a detailed study of the
scheme, paid for by the federal government. Whereas only 13% of
defendants treated in the usual way by the courts were free of drugs in
the month before sentencing, those on the special scheme managed 32%.
Since the scheme is voluntary, is it possible that it will tend to
attract those who are anyway more eager to give up drugs. But there are
good reasons to believe it actually alters behaviour.

The punishments for drugtaking are immediate and predictable, unlike
the usual court justice, which often involves long delays. This is ideal
for addicts, many of whom think no further ahead than a day or so. The
punishments are also a taste of what might come. "It's a wakeup call.
You realise. . the risk of losing your freedom," says one defendant,
having spent three long days observing a court.

If drug courts do work, they could prove a powerful way to reduce
America's demand for drugs. Most heroin and cocaine is bought by heavy
rather than casual drugtakers and, on some estimates, around
threequarters of these heavy drugtakers are arrested each year. People
passing through the court system, therefore, seem to account for most
illegal drug demand.

The White House recently proposed more money for drug courts, from $30m
in the 1997 fiscal year to $75m in 1998. In contrast, the cost of a
nationwide scheme has been estimated at $4 billion a year. Yet, though it
costs more to send defendants through a drug court than through
probation, sending them to prison is roughly ten times more expensive.

If there is a risk with setting up a national network of drug courts,
it is that judges may not rise to the challenge. Drug courts require them
to become rather like moral tutors, involved daily in the life of
defendants. Judge Lopez relishes the role, sometimes punishing
defendants, sometimes praising them, sometimes even hugging them. Other
judges may prefer dispensing traditional justice from the comfortable
distance of the bench.