 |
|
|
 |
opinion
The
war on people
Traffic, Steven Soderbergh's new film, may not live up to the popular
applause levelled at Erin Brockovich but it makes a point no-one
in Hollywood has dared get mired in before. Traffic is a tableau
of four stories that explore the state of the war on drugs (a judge
and his drug-toting daughter, a street-wise dealer, two dull LA
cops, and the beleaguered and corrupt Mexican army). The narrative
is well developed, the cinematography top-notch, but the film is
predictable and the stories fail to build up to a crescendo. Part
story, part documentary, Traffic demonstrates how the war on drugs
is ruining more lives than the drugs themselves and it's a war muddled
by moral ambiguity. The film's best line is when the judge and drug
czar (Michael Douglas) realises the insanity of his actions when
he says, ‘ I don't see how you wage a war on your own family.'
Governments have yet to wake up to the fact that you can't stop
people doing personal things to themselves in their personal time
– like taking drugs. It's patronising, it's paternalistic,
it's unenforceable. Governments randomly and haphazardly persecute
people and, in so doing, are unwittingly estranging a big chunk
of their people and shoving some down the slope to criminal ruin.
In the US, there are about 500,000 drug users behind bars; in the
UK, the figure stands at 140,000 (the UK has the toughest drug laws
in the EU and the highest drug use).
As the USA and the UK jointly plan to launch biological warfare
– a genetically-engineered fungus – on poppy plantations,
the real war on drugs is, beyond the insanity of releasing a germ
in the environment, a war on people. It's a war on people's sense
of fun and imaginative quest for alter realities. It's conservative
uprightness and linear lives versus hedonism and chaotic lives.
It's people who have sex with the lights off versus people who enjoy
bondage. It's people who believe in ascetic lives versus those who
find indulgence the most scenic path to intellectual liberation.
Because the war on people (ups, drugs…) stems from puritan
morality, it's fraught with hypocrisy, intolerance, paternalism,
dogma, self-righteousness. For this reason, the anti-drug movement,
far from being clear-headed, only chooses to see and hear what reinforces
their stand, which is entrenched by the sweat of personal struggle.
A month ago in the US, for example, the National Academy of Sciences
issued the report of a study assessing the effectiveness of the
‘Just Say No' anti-drug education drive in schools. The study
shows that raising students on the Just Say No diet made no difference
in their attitude to drugs (and their consequent dabbling with drugs)
when compared to students who were not exposed to the campaign.
But instead of listening, DARE (Drug Abuse Resistance Education),
who ran the educational campaign, called the study ‘voodoo
science.' What this absurd statement by DARE's chief Glenn Levant
demonstrates is that the people fighting the drugs war by moral
conviction are so personally involved and obsessed in their daily
struggle that they would rather continue ploughing haphazardly than
accept the failure of their labours.
One such person in Malta is Michael Cassar, the anti-drugs chief
in the police force. I still remember a drugs debate in Xarabank
when James Debono backed an argument by quoting statistics gleaned
from the Netherlands, the leaders in liberal pragmatism. Cassar
said something to the effect: It's not the statistics, it's what
you feel with your hands on the ground. Oh – moral crusades
have always been driven by irrational tunnel-vision, and the struggle
becomes an end in itself.
At present in the western world we have seventy-five percent of
the people trying to stop the other twenty-five percent doing drugs.
The war on drugs will collapse when governments realise that a rising
prison population incarcerated for drugs is a measure of failure
not success. Or when they realise that there is only so much money
you can squander on an effort that is not only floundering but has
been a big advert for drugs. Or, more likely, when arising issues
– the environment, for example – demand the resources
that are now channelled into the war on people.
For now, however, the crusaders remain blindly entangled in a no-win
situation. Referring to the research he undertook to write Traffic's
script, Stephan Gaghan told Salon.com: ‘I met very highly placed
officials in Washington who basically said to me, ‘You know,
off the record, this is bullshit. I feel like I disappeared down
a rat hole. How did I get into this stupid war on drugs?' I heard
that so many times I can't even tell you – from people who
then do a press conference and say, ‘Yeah, we're winning the
war on drugs, buddy.''
Jason won't recognise his persona in the film Traffic. The action-drama
of international drug dealers only lives in films. He is simply
running a one-man delivery service operation. He stirs awake sometime
after lunchtime, then starts rounding off the day's orders. On an
average day, working for about five hours, he makes over Lm100.
A slightly overweight, middle-aged man, Jason offers a round, eager
face. He's got a child and stable girlfriend, plus a couple of mistresses
for the sport. He's habitually stoned, but his handshake is firm.
In his spare time, he reads and watches TV documentaries or football;
he likes dining out and visiting friends. Because he's well-read,
his worldviews are articulate and he understands life with intelligent
recognition.
Prison has taught him humbleness and patience, and his middle-class
customers are an opportunity to interact outside his working-class
circuit. When he drops a delivery, he takes time for a chat and
a drink, and perhaps a joint. He's got about 200 customers and all
of them make a handsome order every week; they are young people
with stable jobs and above-average salaries. On weeknights they
have a joint in the same rite of passage spirit their dad would
have an end-of-the-day a glass of wine. On weekends they take a
walk on the wild side, alternating Cocaine and Ecstasy, and more
rarely LSD.
There are hundreds of other small-scale drug delivery operators
in London who make a handsome living. It's efficient, it's free
of turf wars (unlike the street crack and heroin touts who operate
in territorial paranoia and were responsible for at least 50 murders
last year in London), and it's very hard for the police to sniff
out their trail.
I was in a pub when I met Jason and probed his story. Gesturing
towards the counter, he said: ‘ I have a cleaner conscience
selling cannabis than if I was serving alcohol.'
|
|
|
