SORRY TO HARSH YOUR BUZZ

It sounded like a cool idea at the time, but were we ever really going
to decriminalize marijuana?

Is pot legal? The answer to that seems as cloudy as, well, you
know.

Responding to the complaint of a Toronto man charged with possession,
the Ontario Court recently found Canada's marijuana laws to be without
merit. "The government told the public not to worry about access to
marijuana," said Judge Howard Borenstein.

"They have a policy but not law.. In my view that is
unconstitutional."

Though the individual involved was not seeking a medicinal exemption
to possess the drug, he successfully argued the government's failure
to follow up medicinal regulations (announced in 2001) with law put
all rules of possession in doubt.

"For the time being, nothing changes," a police spokesman said. "We
have to wait and see what happens with the process through the courts."

With that, Ottawa finds itself with the makings of another marijuana
debate. Only this time it could be a short one. Justice Minister Rob
Nicholson has left little doubt where the Conservatives stand, saying
the government "has no intention" to follow through on the long, lost
Liberal promise of decriminalization. "[Marijauna is] much stronger
than it was years ago and, in some cases, marijuana may be laced with
more dangerous chemicals," Nicholson said. "There is also evidence it
may lead to experimentation with other drugs. It's not something we
want to encourage."

The latest judicial decision echoed several previous verdicts,
including a much-publicized decision by the Ontario Court of Appeal in
2003. At that time, it looked like politicians were going to seize the
issue and proceed with progressive reforms. But the narrative arc of
Canada's pot saga now seems all too predictable, especially given its
subject matter. First came the high, marked by unbridled ambition and
absolute righteousness; then the lull, when significant obstacles
emerged; and finally, the crash, when everyone involved took a
well-deserved rest from having accomplished, well, nothing at all.

Just prior to the 2003 decision that exempted private tokers for one
smoke-filled summer, the federal government had already entertained
loosening the rules. In a speech at a fundraising dinner that April,
outgoing prime minister Jean Chretien even dabbled in stoner humour.
"We're not legalizing it, we're decriminalizing," he said. "So you
will have another ticket for losing your senses, or something like
that."

The previous September, a Senate committee chaired by Pierre-Claude
Nolin recommended a more radical shift in direction: outright
legalization. "Scientific evidence overwhelmingly indicates that
cannabis is substantially less harmful than alcohol," he said, "and
should be treated not as a criminal issue but as a social and public
health issue."

But the government couldn't do that. As signatory to a plethora of
international treaties, Canada must keep its marijuana law on the
books. That's why, in 2003, former justice minister Martin Cauchon
proposed reforms - though widely termed "decriminalization" - that
would have maintained the criminal character of marijuana, but reduced
penalties to a mere fine (effectively taking the matter out of the
criminal system).

Cauchon now says the bill was meant to take into account the reality
of Canadians' (apparently prodigious) pot-smoking patterns.

"The current laws are unreasonable," he explains. "If the legislation
was any good and they really wanted to apply it, they could just head
down to a rock concert at the Bell Centre in Montreal. Of the 20,000
people there, 2,000 to 3,000 will smoke a joint. Just get in there and
arrest them all. Put them all in jail."

The proposed reforms came at a particularly jubilant time in recent
Canadian history, a mood so infectious even the prime minister was
looking to kick back and spark up. Once done putting the finishing
touches on a whirlwind bit of legacy-building - including the
ratification of the Kyoto Protocol, support for same-sex marriage and
a prescient decision to keep troops out of Iraq - Chretien openly
mused about taking advantage of the lax new laws. "I will have my
money for my fine and a joint in the other hand," he said. The world's
political tastemakers were impressed. "Today's Canada is neither
boring nor so exciting that it is on the brink of disintegration,"
read a September 2003 article in The Economist. "Indeed, a cautious
case can be made that Canada is now rather cool."

Cool as it was, Cauchon's bill languished on the Commons floor, buried
by elections in 2004 and 2006. And while public support remained high
(a Maclean's poll in 2003 showed 58 per cent of Canadians supported
decriminalization, a figure that has remained steady ever since),
opposition proved vociferous.

The Canadian Police Association, MADD and the union representing
Canadian border agents all spoke against the bill, warning of a "high
price for our society," especially our "impressionable youth." U.S.
drug czar John Walters linked decriminalization to international
relations, suggesting his country wouldn't take kindly to any increase
in the amount of marijuana coming across the border. "The problem
today, is that Canadian production of high-potency marijuana in
British Columbia is a major source of marijuana [in the United
States]... and it's spreading," he said. "Just like cocaine, shipped
up from Mexico."

(Canada's self-styled "prince of pot," Marc Emery now blames such
concerns for the failure of decriminalization efforts in Canada. The
battle for reforming pot legislation, he says, simply isn't worth
fighting so long as the Americans haven't been won over - "It has to
happen from America.")

Inside the House, the Canadian Alliance supported decriminalization
for small amounts of weed, but objected to the initial 30 gram limit.
Former Alliance MP Randy White said those with that many joints were
invariably "going to sell them to kids."

Such opposition might not have been a problem had the Liberal majority
been able to hold. Ontario MP Dan McTeague complained the government
was "sanctioning or tolerating [marijuana] as produced by major
elements of organized crime." Even senior cabinet members were thought
to be reluctant. Then-health minister Anne McLellan emphasized that
"we do not want Canadians to use marijuana," while
prime-minister-in-waiting Paul Martin, then out of cabinet and openly
campaigning against Chretien, argued that the government needed to
adopt a U.S.-style approach to illicit drugs.

When Martin finally took the reins, any remaining enthusiasm was lost.
Even though Martin's justice minister, Irwin Cotler, re-introduced
Cauchon's decriminilization bill word-for-word, the legislative focus
had shifted from reducing punishment to catching drug-impaired
drivers. And in the hands of a more cautious prime minister,
"decriminalization" became the stuff of "alternate penalty
frameworks."

Four years later, Cauchon, a would-be prince of pot himself, thinks
Harper's Conservatives are unlikely to stray from their traditional
law-and-order approach, predicting they will take "as hard a line as
possible" in response to the Ontario Court's recent decision. In doing
so, the Tories will likely send the issue back to the courts and away
from the political stage, framing the issue as a legal rather than
legislative one.

And with that the buzz - perhaps premature and ill-fated from the
start - may officially be over.