NEW ANTI-DRUG LAW LEAVES ROOM FOR ABUSE BY ENFORCEMENT OFFICIALS

I have to admit, I've never been to a rave party. For me, not only have
those days come and gone, they never were. I know about them, though. Rave
parties are loud, raucous affairs, where young adults dance into the early
morning to the pounding beat of electronic music. And there is often drug
use, the methamphetamine known as Ecstasy to be exact.

The trick in a free society, where cultural expression -- even the
annoyingly unmelodic kind -- must be allowed to flourish, is to punish
illegal behavior without disturbing the exuberance of art and expression.

But communities and law enforcement aren't interested in such deftness. It
is far easier to go after the rave parties themselves than to focus on the
actual drug dealers inside. Close the raves and you solve the problem. The
"war on drugs" shakes hands with the culture war, making both
prohibitionists and moralists happy -- all who matter from a political vantage.

The government's antagonism toward raves has been apparent for years. In an
information bulletin put out by the Department of Justice in 2001, the
department described raves as commercialized events that were "little more
than an exploitation of American youth."

The bulletin listed ways that communities and law enforcement agencies were
"curtail[ing] rave activity," such as by strictly enforcing fire codes,
enacting juvenile curfews and establishing new licensing rules for large
public gatherings.

Yet, even in the face of this kind of hostility, the rave culture has
thrived. So in April, Congress added another arrow to the quiver of the
anti-rave effort.

The Illicit Drug Anti-Proliferation Act, formerly known as the RAVE Act,
passed without a single hearing. Sen. Joe Biden, D-Delaware, inserted it
into the popular Amber Alert bill, the bill creating a nationwide
kidnapping early-warning system, during the conference committee. It had
not been part of either the Senate or House versions.

The law threatens dance club owners and event promoters with 20 years in
prison and $250,000 fines if prosecutors can show they intentionally
allowed drug use on the premises.

Critics warned that such stiff penalties and the mere fear of prosecution
would sharply curtail the rave scene. But the law's defenders and Biden in
particular insisted that it would be so narrowly applied there would be no
chilling effect.

"The purpose of my legislation," said Biden to his colleagues in Congress,
"is not to prosecute legitimate, law-abiding managers of . . . venues
because of incidental drug use at their events." Biden said his bill would
only impact "rogue promoters" who put on events "for the purpose of"
illicit drug use.

Ah, promises, promises. Put a broadly written law in the hands of police
and the rational constraints claimed by the law's sponsors can easily go
poof. It didn't take long for the nightmare scenario laid out by the law's
opponents to come true.

Last month, a Drug Enforcement Administration agent hand-delivered a copy
of the law to the manager of the Fraternal Order of Eagles Lodge in
Billings, Mont., just a few hours before the local chapters of the National
Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws and Students for a Sensible
Drug Policy were scheduled to hold a benefit concert. The money raised was
to go to underwrite a campaign to get a medical marijuana initiative on the
2004 ballot.

According to media reports about the incident, the Eagles Lodge manager
wasn't threatened or told to cancel the concert by Special Agent in Charge
Jeff Sweetin, who runs the DEA's Rocky Mountain Division, but she was told
if there was drug use on the premises the owners could be fined $250,000.

Not surprisingly, the lodge canceled the event.

In trying to figure out whether this is the start of a trend, and we will
soon find the DEA at the door of rave clubs and drug-legalization
fund-raising events waving around the new law for effect, I spoke with Will
Glaspy, a DEA spokesman in Washington.

He refused to discuss the specifics of the Billings incident but said the
law should be used against an "owner or promoter who is putting on an event
in order to facilitate drug trafficking," implying that the Billings case
was an aberration. But when asked if the Billings case would be the subject
of an internal investigation, Glaspy refused to say. He also refused to say
whether the DEA had guidelines narrowly construing what was illegal under
the Rave Act.

Biden's office says it wants better answers than these and is formally
asking for an accounting.

What is needed is safe harbor language. Give club owners a list of actions
they can take to protect themselves from liability, such as hiring security
guards to watch for drug activity in the club.

Certainty is the key. Otherwise, raves will be driven further underground.
The drug use won't end, but the basic health precautions that legitimate
businesses provide will.

Music, dancing and subculture expression are just the newest victims of the
drug war.

So party on, that is, until the government knocks on your door to tell you
about a new law . . .

Tribune Media Services