WHIFFS OF CHANGE

Recession stoking movements across U.S. to legalize and tax pot

THE voters of trendsetting California may well decide this November
to legalize marijuana - there's a ballot referendum, and 56 per cent
of Californians are in favour - and no doubt this would be great news
for the munchie in-dustry, the bootleggers of Grateful Dead music,
and the millions of stoners who have long yearned for an era of
reefer gladness.

Seriously, this is a story about how desperate times require
desperate measures. Legalization advocates, including many ex-cops
and ex-prosecutors, have long contended that it's nuts to keep
criminalizing otherwise law-abiding citizens while wasting $8 billion
a year in law enforcement costs.

That argument has never worked. But the new argument, cleverly synced
to the recession mind-set, may well herald a new chapter in the
history of pot prohibition.

It's simple, really: State governments awash in red ink can solve
some of their revenue woes by legalizing marijuana for adults and
slapping it with a sin tax.

So much of the marijuana debate used to be about morality; now it's
mostly about economics and practicality -- which is why New
Hampshire, Massachusetts and Rhode Island are also floating measures
to legalize and tax; why similar voter referendums are in the works
in Washington state and Oregon; why 14 states (including, most
recently, New Jersey) have legalized medical marijuana, and why even
Pennsylvania, hardly a pace-setting state, is weighing the sanction
of medical pot, complete with six per cent sales tax.

But California is the likeliest lab for a massive toke tax, given its
dire financial straits and the fact that marijuana is the state's top
cash crop, racking up an estimated $14 billion in annual sales --
twice as much as the No. 2 agricultural commodity, milk and cream.
State tax collectors say that pot could put $1.4 billion a year into
the depleted California coffers, which helps explain why 56 per cent
of Californians like the legalization option, and find it preferable
to the ongoing layoffs of teachers and other public servants.

Indeed, marijuana is reportedly the top cash crop in a dozen states,
and one of the top five in 39 states -- valued annually at anywhere
from $36 billion to $100 billion. That's a lot of money left on the
table for the black market.

In fact, five years ago, a Harvard economist concluded in a report
that legal weed nationwide would yield at least $6 billion in revenue
if it were sin-taxed at rates comparable to alcohol and tobacco.

Actually, I doubt most stoners see themselves as sinners -- what's
immoral about seeing Avatar three times, or strip-mining a tray of
brownies, or punctuating the conversation with lines like, "I'm
sorry, what was I just talking about?" -- but most would probably be
willing to pay a "sin tax" in exchange for the opportunity to imbibe,
hassle-free, with no fear that they might join the 765,000 Americans
who were reportedly busted last year for possession.

Pot smokers have long been bugged by the stigma. When I covered a
marijuana reform convention in Washington way back in 1977 (OK, yes,
I'm old), a delegate from Illinois named Paul Kuhn spoke for many
when he complained to me: "You can get rip-roaring, toilet-hugging,
puking drunk in public, and that's OK. But if you pass a joint in
public to a friend, you're a pusher."

But even the reformers of '77 said it was "naive" to believe that
Americans would ever buy legalization.

Today's generation is more shrewd; the word "legalization" doesn't
even appear in the California ballot proposal. The proponents,
including a retired Superior Court judge who got fed up with handling
pot cases, are calling it the "Regulate, Control and Tax Cannabis Act."

Frankly, California and other cash-strapped states don't have a whole
lot of sin-tax options.

Cigarettes and booze are already taxed to the max, and (as
Philadelphia is discovering) attempts to slap special levies on
sugared water are fiercely resisted by soda companies that fear any
curbs on their freedom to rot kids' teeth.

By contrast, stoners crave the respectability of being taxed; the
fiercest tax opponents are probably the Mexican drug cartels, which
would lose market share just as the mob lost out on liquor when
Prohibition ended in '33.

Granted, nobody quite knows whether or how the California pot plan
would fly in practice. Pot use would still be illegal under federal
law -- the director of the National Drug Control Policy has said that
"legalization is not in the president's vocabulary" -- and the U.S.
Constitution decrees that federal law trumps state law.

On the other hand, the Obama team has stated that it has no interest
in hassling the medical-marijuana states.

The big question is how such a sin tax would be structured. Would all
sellers be licenced? Would it be a point-of-sale excise tax on top of
the sales tax?

It's worth pondering, because some state is bound to take the plunge,
even if California's voters balk in November -- which could happen
because, favourable pot polls notwithstanding, conservatives riled up
by health reform seem most energized to turn out in disproportionate
numbers this year.

The bottom line is that public support for legalizing the crop has
been building for a very long time.

Gallup found only 12 per cent of Americans in favour back in 1969,
but 31 per cent said yes in 2000, 36 per cent said yes in 2005, and
44 per cent said yes in 2009.

The economic crisis has put wind behind the sentiment, and it seems
inevitable that there will come a day -- perhaps in the next major
recession -- when a presidential candidate will find it perfectly
politic to speechify about the audacity of dope.