FOR YEARS, EVERYONE SAW THIS COMING

Four police officers murdered over a common plant. That, put simply, is why
the legalization of marijuana must be treated as an urgent issue of public
policy, writes Dan Gardner, who has spent years studying the war on the drug.

In the eight years that I have been studying and critiquing the war on
marijuana, I've occasionally been asked why I spend so much time on an
issue many people think is, at best, trivial. I answered by citing the
involvement of major organized crime networks, the billions of dollars
spent on enforcement, and the criminalization of hundreds of thousands of
otherwise lawful citizens for consuming a substance that is, by any fair
measure, less dangerous than alcohol or tobacco.

But today there is a simpler response: Four men are dead.

Let this be the end of scant attention, of dismissive comments, of news
stories laced with trivializing puns and juvenile jokes. Marijuana is an
urgent issue of public policy. The police complained for years that the
media and the public do not appreciate that this is a serious matter, that
the spread of grow-ops is a risk to public safety, that good men and women
are in jeopardy every time they bang on a door with a search warrant. They
were right all along. Let us respect the police by treating the issue with
the same solemnity and gravity they surely feel while contemplating the
deaths of their comrades. That means, among others things, not acting
rashly. It is only human that the shock and sorrow of such a crime would
give way to anger and an urge to hit hard and fast.

Already there have been calls for tougher enforcement and harsher laws,
including severe mandatory minimum sentences for marijuana growers. Anne
McLellan, the public safety minister, says government is considering just
that, while RCMP Commissioner Giuliano Zaccardelli has promised a crackdown
and a renewed commitment to making "a drug-free Canada."

But to treat the issue with solemnity and gravity means precisely to take
care that passion does not overwhelm judgment. It means gathering the
evidence, examining the arguments and thinking hard about the way forward.
It means asking ourselves how it ever came to be that police officers were
murdered because of a plant.

That's all marijuana is, after all. It's just a plant, a common and easily
grown one. In many cultures, its consumption was lawful for millennia. And
in all that time, the bond between thugs, mayhem, murder and marijuana that
we see today did not exist.

That changed early in the 20th century. In 1923, Canada -- with not a word
of discussion in Parliament -- banned marijuana. Other countries --
motivated as Canada was by a toxic mix of popular myths, pseudo-science and
racism -- did the same. The moment they did, the trade left the hands of
law-abiding producers and fell to the exclusive control of criminals. That
control, not any property of the drug itself, is the steel link between
marijuana and crime.

At the same time in the U.S., Prohibition created precisely the same link
between alcohol and crime -- the only difference being that it was broken
when alcohol was legalized in 1933.

This brief history is relatively uncontroversial. Aside from a few zealots
who still cling to the fantasy that there is something about the chemistry
of marijuana that makes users more inclined to crime, no one really
disputes that the bond between marijuana and crime is exclusively the
result of the fact marijuana is illegal. The grow-ops, the gangsters and,
yes, the dangers faced by police officers enforcing the law: All these
exist because of a policy decision.

"The way we've done it now is marijuana has become the exclusive
prerogative of the criminal element because there's such fantastic profit
in it," said Nick Taylor, a former Alberta senator. "I'm not saying that
the four men would be alive if we had legalized marijuana, but I suspect
they might be."

Legalization would undeniably break the link between marijuana and crime.
That's a major reason why a Senate Special Committee recommended that
marijuana be legalized and regulated.

Unfortunately, the police ignored the senators and their 650-page report --
one of the most comprehensive ever produced in any country -- and instead
pressed for more resources and tougher laws. The government, too, never
gave the Senate report the slightest consideration. Instead, the Liberals
introduced a bill that would "decriminalize" the possession of small
amounts of marijuana -- meaning a ticket instead of a criminal charge --
while boosting the maximum sentences for large-scale growers. And this was
before the murders on Thursday and Ms. McLellan's promise to consider
further sentencing increases for growers.

If this issue is to be treated seriously, this dismissiveness must end, and
a real discussion must be had. The Liberal policy convention in Ottawa this
weekend offers a real hope for just that.

Two resolutions are on the agenda: One calls for tougher sentences on grow
operators; the other calls for the legalization of marijuana. It's a good
chance to ask some hard questions.

Most basically, why does anyone think harsher sentences will accomplish
anything? The police say this will deter would-be growers, noting that in
the United States, producers and traffickers are punished far more
severely. But criminological research consistently shows tougher sentences
do not deter crime. And the police never mention that despite the tough
U.S. sentences, and the immense sums of money spent fighting the war on
marijuana, government reports routinely find the U.S. is awash in
marijuana, and the largest source of it is the United States itself.

Recent Canadian history makes the same point. In the early 1960s, Canada's
already tough drug laws were made tougher on the advice of the top U.S.
drug official, who insisted that longer sentences deterred drug crime. And
almost immediately after the new sentences came into force, drug
production, dealing and use began to soar -- and kept on rising for almost
two decades, even at a time when the simple possession of a joint could
mean serious jail time.

Here's a simpler question: Can those who support a crackdown name any
country in which tougher law enforcement has successfully suppressed the
illicit marijuana trade? A few years ago, a United Nations report attempted
to dismiss the argument that drug prohibition is futile by pointing out
that there was one successful example: Maoist China. Assuming we wish to
remain a liberal democracy, what basis do those advocating a crackdown on
marijuana production have for thinking it will do anything more than put
more officers' lives at risk?

As always, reasonable people can differ on this issue, and if those who
insist on sticking with prohibition have a case to make -- with evidence,
not the assumptions and conjecture that too often pass for argument -- I
want to hear it. Honest disagreement is honourable.

Hypocrisy isn't. Over the years I've had many private conversations about
drugs with politicians, political staff, senior civil servants, journalists
and police officers. And what I hear in private is not what I hear in
public. In Official Ottawa, a remarkable number of people -- including some
renowned and powerful figures -- think the war on marijuana is nothing less
than ludicrous. And, truth be told, more than a few like to smoke an
occasional joint.

As long as marijuana could be dismissed as a trivial issue, this hypocrisy
could be shrugged off as a venal sin. But now four men are dead.

They died in pursuit of a futile policy, and if that policy doesn't change
more officers will put themselves at risk and sooner or later more names
will be etched into the police memorials.

More than anything, treating the issue with due solemnity and gravity
requires honesty. It is time those who have kept silent to find their
courage and speak up.