DRUG DEALING PROBLEM NEEDS A STRONGER REMEDY

Well, that didn't take long.

Six months after being freed from prison, former drug kingpin Henry
Manns is headed back to the big house. Seems he violated his probation
by, among other things, taking a road trip to Texas without permission
from his probation officer and associating with a convicted felon. He
was also driving a car rented by a convicted drug dealer - which
happened to have $118,000 inside.

But long before Manns skirted the terms of his probation, I knew my
chances of writing a different column about him - as Manns the
redeemed vs. Manns the recidivist -were thread-thin. The last life he
knew, after all, was one that revolved around his criminality and his
drug-dealing; around his ability to make millions by making a mockery
of a drug war that continues to rack up more casualties than victories.

I struggled to imagine him trading in that image for one of a humble
lawnkeeper.

Not that he didn't try. Manns' attorney told the Times-Union that it
was tough for him to get a job because of his record. That's probably
true. But having a huge party at a club to announce his homecoming -
complete with a poster of him making a gang gesture with his hands -
wasn't exactly the kind of advertisement that would endear him to
potential employers.

The ones who hire ex-offenders want to believe they are remorseful,
not defiant.

Manns should have talked to his attorney before he had that party. Or
his pastor. Or anyone besides the people who had idolized him as an
outlaw hero, but couldn't help him find the means to survive without
returning to the outlaw ways that got him locked up for two decades.

And they should have begged him not to do that.

So Manns is in his 40s now, with nothing on his resume except drug
kingpin. His reputation will always precede him - and in his case,
that's not a good thing.

Yet, it is a mistake for anyone to believe that the population of
crack cocaine users will drop precipitously because Manns is back
behind bars for a year. His legend inspires more new dealers than the
possibility of prison repels them. And it will inspire as long as the
drug trade continues to be the economic engine for people, especially
young black males, who live in communities that are isolated from
opportunities and optimism.

The Manns' wannabees will just dissect what he did to get caught, and
vow not to repeat his missteps.

They'll still see drug dealing as an easy route to make money, and
they won't stop to measure whether the money they make in their
occupation is worth the time they'll spend in prison - or the criminal
record they'll wind up with. Or the living they'll miss out on because
of all the time they'll spend, or rather waste, watching their back or
waiting out their terms in the pokey.

Which is why I still say that, unless a more powerful weapon than
incarceration is deployed, the drug war needs to end.

It's not working because for many of the people who are involved in
the drug trade, prison isn't scary anymore.

It's just there.

We know this because each year, more and more people go to prison on
drug-related charges.

According to the Department of Justice, 2.2 million people were jailed
or imprisoned in the United States at the end of 2006. That's an
increase of nearly 3 percent since 2005.

The Sentencing Project, an organization that examines incarceration
trends, found that a record number of people - more than a half
million - are in jail or prison for a drug-related offense.

In 1980, only 41,000 people were incarcerated for drug
offenses.

Marc Mauer, executive director of the Sentencing Project, said that's
a sign of failure, not success, in fighting drug abuse. And he's right.

Success means that fewer people are using drugs and selling drugs.
That's not happening, and for a war that costs nearly $70 billion a
year, we should have more to show for it than packed prisons.

We can lock up all the Henry Mannses we want.

But the fact that he wasn't even ashamed enough of his past
criminality that he threw himself a homecoming celebration at a club
and invited the public, tells me that while the drug war may take down
a few gangsters from time to time, it is doing woefully little to take
down the culture that empowers them.

That's a much more difficult battle; one that must be fought by
committing more drug rehabilitation resources to the places that need
it, and by creating access to legitimate jobs so that drug-dealing is
no longer worth the risk to those who would select it as an occupation.

Yet, that battle is key to winning this war. One that has been waged
too long with a weapon that has long since lost its potency.