Book Review: Last Call by Daniel Okrent

I’m very much looking forward to my seminar today, in which we’ll be discussing Daniel Okrent‘s recent book Last Call, a detailed, vivid, darkly humorous and politically insightful analysis of the rise and fall of Prohibition. I can’t recommend it enough, and very much hope my students enjoyed it as much as I did.

In Last Call, Okrent provides an informed history of the emergence of Prohibition. Contrary to some popular notions, according to which the temperance movement was largely a religious movement, prohibition was the result of a narrow coalition between a variety of social and political groups with conflicting political interests, all of which were served in this way or another by a ban on alcohol consumption. The most important and surprising of these allies was the movement for women’s suffrage; in fact, many of the important heroines of the suffragette movement joined the cause so that a vote could be cast against alcohol. Alcohol consumption was directly related to gender issues, as the United States had been, for years, awash with drink, and saloon culture was tied to domestic violence, squandering of the family budget, and prostitution. But there were other interesting allies as well. Racism found a home in the temperance movement, as well; just as with the criminalization of drugs, some concerns about alcohol were dressed as the fear of the hypersexualized black, violent man, while other concerns arose in the context of Irish Catholics. And, as with various criminalizing “wars” of later times, the deeply-felt effects of World War I, before, during and after the war, played into the debate, fueling an antipathy toward Germanism, which manifested itself as antipathy toward German distillers and brewers.

The delicate dance between taxing and criminalizing vices, which we spend so much time reflecting on in the context of narcotics, was very present in the Prohibition debate. In fact, the passage of the Eighteenth Amendment was facilitated by a prior revival of the alcohol excise tax. As with the Harrison narcotics act, any form of ceding ground of individual freedoms and making them subject to federal regulation later allowed greater curtailment of these rights, resulting in one of the two only constitutional amendments forbidding people from doing something (the other one is slave ownership.)

We all know, of course, that prohibition failed, and that it had something to do with lax enforcement and with an underworld economy of booze; but Okrent’s book provides enormous insight into how lax enforcement was. Not only was manpower limited and the ability to follow up the powerful underworld economy therefore limited, but the government actually created rather wide exceptions to prohibition. The book’s delving into the world of “medical alcohol” will remind many Californian readers of the medical marijuana regime.

Was prohibition a success or a failure? We tend to regard it as a failure. But I think that, given the immense obstacles in the way of criminalizing a so-called victimless crime, nation-wide, the coalition for prohibition was an astonishingly successful enterprise. That, for a moment in time, racists and progressive working unions, suffragettes and anti-immigrant activists, managed to put their differences aside and lobby for a change in law, is nothing short of astonishing, and very hard to imagine in today’s partisan, polarized political world. In some ways, it makes it more interesting to watch the upcoming elections in November, to see whether Prop 34’s proponents will be successful in their efforts to get together former correctional staff, law enforcement officials, victim organizations and inmate rights groups to support the replacement of the death penalty with life without parole.

As a coda, enjoy this witty interview of Okrent on The Daily Show.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c
Daniel Okrent
www.thedailyshow.com
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De-Felonizing Drugs

Image courtesy ACLU of Northern CA.

SB 1506, a new bill introduced by Senator Mark Leno, aims at changing drug possession offense classification from felonies to misdemeanors.

Currently, the distinction between different types of drugs also yields a distinction between felonies and misdemeanors. Possession of cocaine, heroin, and Schedule III, IV and V narcotic drugs is a felony; possession of cannabis and Schedule III, IV and V nonnarcotic drugs, is a misdemeanor.

Should SB 1506 pass, possession offenses will become misdemeanors regardless of the type of drug, and moreover, they will not require registering with the police station for folks with convictions.

The ACLU of Northern California, as well as California Attorneys for Criminal Justice, Drug Policy Alliance, Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, the California NAACP, and William C. Velásquez Institute, support the bill, arguing that it will enable a considerable shortening of prison sentences for simple possession while focusing resources on policing and drug treatment.

What do our readers think? Is there a good reason to distinguish between simple possession of different types of drugs for sentencing purposes?

Gated Community Mentality

So much has been written in the last few days about Trayvon Martin’s death, that everything I might add seems superfluous. But this New York Times piece by Rich Benjamin is really worth a read.

I remember interviewing for an academic position at an excellent academic institution located in an area where gated communities proliferated. As part of my interview, I had a chance to talk to the local grad students for an hour. One of them asked me, “what don’t you like about the campus so far?” I replied that I’d strolled around campus in the morning and didn’t see a single living person in the streets. “Oh, there are no streets,” the students said. “Everyone lives behind gates.”

Here’s Benjamin’s experience:

From 2007 to 2009, I traveled 27,000 miles, living in predominantly white gated communities across this country to research a book. I threw myself into these communities with gusto — no Howard Johnson or Motel 6 for me. I borrowed or rented residents’ homes. From the red-rock canyons of southern Utah to the Waffle-House-pocked exurbs of north Georgia, I lived in gated communities as a black man, with a youthful style and face, to interview and observe residents.


The perverse, pervasive real-estate speak I heard in these communities champions a bunker mentality. Residents often expressed a fear of crime that was exaggerated beyond the actual criminal threat, as documented by their police department’s statistics. Since you can say “gated community” only so many times, developers hatched an array of Orwellian euphemisms to appease residents’ anxieties: “master-planned community,” “landscaped resort community,” “secluded intimate neighborhood.”


No matter the label, the product is the same: self-contained, conservative and overzealous in its demands for “safety.” Gated communities churn a vicious cycle by attracting like-minded residents who seek shelter from outsiders and whose physical seclusion then worsens paranoid groupthink against outsiders. These bunker communities remind me of those Matryoshka wooden dolls. A similar-object-within-a-similar-object serves as shelter; from community to subdivision to house, each unit relies on staggered forms of security and comfort, including town authorities, zoning practices, private security systems and personal firearms.


Residents’ palpable satisfaction with their communities’ virtue and their evident readiness to trumpet alarm at any given “threat” create a peculiar atmosphere — an unholy alliance of smugness and insecurity. In this us-versus-them mental landscape, them refers to new immigrants, blacks, young people, renters, non-property-owners and people perceived to be poor.

Benjamin goes on to discuss how this real-estate mentality translates itself to criminal justice concepts, where the increased privatized justice system touches public criminal doctrine:

“Stand Your Ground” or “Shoot First” laws like Florida’s expand the so-called castle doctrine, which permits the use of deadly force for self-defense in one’s home, as long as the homeowner can prove deadly force was reasonable. Thirty-two states now permit expanded rights to self-defense.


In essence, laws nationwide sanction reckless vigilantism in the form of self-defense claims. A bunker mentality is codified by law.


Those reducing this tragedy to racism miss a more accurate and painful picture. Why is a child dead? The rise of “secure,” gated communities, private cops, private roads, private parks, private schools, private playgrounds — private, private, private —exacerbates biased treatment against the young, the colored and the presumably poor.

This is true, but there’s more to it. I think the gated regime of locking oneself in, and the “my home is my castle” mentality, harms the white and affluent as well as the poor, minority “outsiders,” albeit not to the same extent. This atomistic, non-organic way of interacting with one’s surroundings is bound to suffocate and limit one’s human experiences in ways whose intangible price we pay not only with Trayvon Martin’s life, but in public discourse, partisanism, intellectual property and social boredom.

Finally, the perception that gated communities are safer, or have less crime, than cities is problematic when one considers the proper definition of crime. Think about sexual assault, domestic violence, drug abuse in the privacy of one’s home, and the countless ways in which people who know each other, and often live with each other, can abuse each other behind closed doors, guaranteeing not only a lower rate of detection but also underreporting by victims. A quote from Arthur Conan Doyle comes to mind:

[“]It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.”


“You horrify me!”


“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser.”

Thinking of this in the context of Benjamin’s piece is sobering and disturbing.

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Props to Amir Paz-Fuchs for the link.

Ajami, Part One: Between “Security Crime” and “Ordinary Crime”

As I post this, I am en route to Israel, to participate in the Israeli Law and Society Association Annual Meeting. At the conference, I plan to discuss a recent Israeli-Palestinian film, Ajami. The film examines the complex relationships between Israeli Jews, Israeli Arabs, and Palestinian undocumented workers, in the Ajami neighborhood in Jaffa. The plot is incredibly complicated, and throws the heroes of our story into a web of drugs, violence, political turmoil, and neighborly disputes. It is the perfect film for any criminal justice scholar and practitioner who wants or needs a window into the Israeli criminal underworld.

At the talk, I plan to use scenes from Ajami to uncover and dispel two prevalent myths in Israeli criminal justice: The dichotomy between “crime” and “security” and the romanticization of restorative justice. This post will be devoted to the first of those myths.

Israeli newspapers often report of ongoing police investigations, particularly of violent crime, by pointing out whether the investigation is pursuing a “criminal angle” or a “security angle”. The assumption is that these two categories–security crime and ordinary crime–are mutually exclusive, and each requires a different model for understanding and approaching it. These models are different in our perception of them, in our discourse about them, and in the techniques and technologies we apply to them.

“Security crime” is special and takes prevalence over “ordinary crime”. When an act is labeled a “security crime”, it is placed in the context of the permanent state of emergency in Israel. It is seen not just as a threat among criminals or to the “other”, but as a direct threat to “us”, the collective Israeli social fabric. As such, it draws in the army as a primary respondent, as well as the increasingly militarized Israeli police (now governed by the Ministry for Internal Security, rather than its former name, the Ministry of Police). Investigations into security crimes bring to life the dilemma of torturing suspects, supposedly forbidden by the Supreme Court, but alive and well (albeit reduced) according to human rights organizations.

The isolation of security crime above all crime, and the approach that it is somehow special and merits special governing techniques, is a feature of the general, ethnicity-based “divide and conquer” taxonomy Israel applies to its residents and their problems. Among some examples of these approach, we can think of the un-Arabizing of Israeli Druze citizens (some of whom serve in the army as military judges and attorneys); the un-Palestinizing of Israeli Arab citizens; and the supposedly impermeable boundaries between race, religion, and degrees of religiousness.

There are several problems with this rhetoric. The first is that it is false. The Israeli crime map, masterfully exposed and illuminated in Ajami, shows that the distinction between security crime and “ordinary” crime is false. Crime occurs across all categories, and the complex motivations behind the crime cannot be reduced to a national/profit-based dichotomy. In fact, the supposedly impermeable boundaries in society constitute optimal conditions for crime to occur: The Israeli car theft industry flourished due to these boundaries, as seventy percent of all stolen cars in Israel found their way to chop shops in the Palestinian authority. Ironically, what reduced much of this activity was a non-security, specified policing unit dedicated specifically to car theft, and unpreoccupied with the security/crime dichotomy.

Another problem with this dichotomy is that it allows the Israeli public to keep criminal activity compartmentalized and labeled, without making the connections between different types of marginalization. That the occupation creates undocumented labor markets plagued by illness and poverty, which in itself gives rise to “regular crime”, is conveniently hidden from the overt discussion of “security crime”. Moreover, while “security crime”, such as the kidnapping of a soldier, serves a Durkheimian function of galvanizing and uniting us, “ordinary crime”, especially in the context of organized crime or drugs, creates a sense of alienation and indifference. Not only is this harmful to law enforcement efforts, it is harmful to our national psyche. This approach of alienation reminds me of a phenomenon that Darnell Hawkins discusses in the context of African American crime: While crimes perpetrated by Black offenders against White victims are seen as threatening, crimes within the Black community are treated with relative leniency and indifference.

Some of the implications of this dichotomy can be seen in the realm of criminal courtroom practices and sentencing. Research consistently confirms that Arab defendants are treated worse by the Israeli law enforcement system, starting with arrest rates and ending with sentencing. Is this mere ethnic discrimination? Or does it stem from the suspicion that any crime involving an Arab or Palestinian defendant has some security overtones that require attention and special severity?

But one of the most harmful effects of the dichotomy is related to Jonathan Simon’s Governing Through Crime. In the book, Simon argues that one of the perversities of modern society is seeing everything through a lens of crime and victimization. Citizens come to see themselves primarily as potential victims, which affects our modes of living, our choice of vehicles, our recourse to situational crime prevention, and our demonization of cities, urban youth, and the poor. Simon makes the suggestion to shift from models of “war on crime” to “wars” on something else, such as cancer or natural disasters. My critique of Simon’s argument builds on the Israeli experience. As opposed to the U.S. experience, in which crime is a metaphor for anything else, in Israel war in itself is the metaphor, for crime among other things. While the boundaries between “security crime” and “ordinary crime” remain in place, the prestige, urgency and importance of security-related concerns creates a warped social universe in which, to gain priority for one’s issue, the issue needs to be framed in terms of national security. And so, the police becomes increasingly militarized, in discourse as well as in approaches and technologies; and we launch war against environmental pollution, obesity, and other harms that are analogized to the security survival threat. This survivalist approach creates a culture of fear that magnifies, and sometimes exceeds, its counterpart in the United States.

More on this in our next post.

Policing a Legalized World: Marijuana Growing, Searches, and Probable Cause

One of the things people often forget in debates about legalizing marijuana is that any effort at regulating a field creates interesting ambiguities. Our example-de-jour comes from the city of Arcata, where a lawsuit has been filed against the police for searching a house in which medical marijuana was grown. Here are the facts from the newspaper:

The claim — based on injuries allegedly suffered by Sage and her late husband, Charles Sage, 67 — alleges that Arcata Police officers unlawfully searched the Sages’ Zehndner Avenue home early in the morning of May 27, when Sage opened her door to an officer disguised as a utility meter reader only to have about a dozen officers enter her home with guns drawn. No marijuana was found on the premises.


While officials declined to comment specifically on Sage’s claim, they said law enforcement acts in a good faith attempt to target individuals who are in flagrant violation of Proposition 215 and Arcata’s medical marijuana ordinance. However, they noted that most violators do so under the auspices of medical marijuana and that the foggy state of California’s laws make enforcement a tricky endeavor.

Here’s the problem: Arcata’s medical marijuana growth is regulated by a land use ordinance “which allows for grows of up to 50 square feet and utilizing no more than 1,200 watts per residence.” That is, while you need a CA card to be a medical marijuana user, you don’t need one to be a grower. There is no approved list of growers anywhere, and Sage and her husband grew marijuana for Charles Sage’s prostate cancer and other ailments.

So, what was the police doing there? Well, the basis for the search warrant was marijuana smell emanating from the house. But hey – in order to obtain a search warrant, there has to be probable cause that an offense is being committed. In a post-prop-215 world, growing marijuana in itself is not an offense; growing it in violation of the ordinance is. The smell alone does not furnish probable cause that an offense is being committed.

But what is the police to do? Is home search the only way to ascertain whether there is compliance with the ordinance? If the smell of marijuana does not imply illegal activity, then something more is needed. The police could stake the house and see if there is an unusually high volume of people coming and going; conduct undercover investigations; or do something of the sort. Interestingly, in Kyllo v. United States (2000), the Supreme Court banned the usage of thermal images to scan a house for heat activity (including marijuana growth lamps). The reasoning was that it’s an invasion of one’s home. Ironically, in a post-215 world, Sage’s privacy would be less intruded upon through the usage of a thermal imager, that could tell the police whether she’s growing the allowed amount, than through a full search of the house with guns drawn. This is an interesting example of the many enforcement dilemmas the police would have to cope with had Proposition 19, which allowed home growth for personal use, passed. And it is a reminder that legalizing drugs for personal use requires careful attention to detail.

Juvenile Curfews?

Recently, the Oakland City Council degerred voting on a proposed juvenile curfew, titled the “Juvenile Protection Act”. Is it a good idea to enact such curfews,and what is their effect on crime?

Some evidence, including this paper by Patrick Kline, suggest that youth curfews overall are effective in reducing crime for the juveniles below curfew age, but have no spillover effects above the curfew age. The study’s population was that of cities with a 1990 population greater than 180,000, and compared cities with municipal codes that included youth curfews. The focus was on serious felonies, as other offenses could be attributed to police behavior rather than to youth criminality. The arrest data, he says–

suggest that being subject to a curfew reduces the number of violent and property crimes committed by juveniles below the curfew age by approximately 10% in the year after enactment, with the effects intensifying substantially in subsequent years for violent crimes.


The magnitude of any biases in the estimates due to spillover effects is difficult to assess. The data do not provide evidence of any spillovers, though given the imprecision of the estimates we also cannot reject modest sized effects. It does seem safe to say that there are probably not any large spillover effects, meaning that curfews do not seem to reduce crime in general, but rather only for the targeted age-groups. This suggests that cities designing curfew legislation should choose the statutory curfew age carefully according to which age-groups are in greatest need of intervention.

However, for Oakland and San Francisco specifically, there are reasons to be skeptical. A recent piece by Mike Males in the Chron was a good reminder of the fact that the US seems to be the only country that its citizens “can shop happily only when everyone under 18 is under house arrest. Not even in London during recent riots – and certainly not in Hong Kong, Tokyo, Rome, Mexico City, Rio de Janeiro, Toronto or other major cities – do police forcibly sweep young people off the streets.”

Today’s op-ed by Selena Teji makes similar arguments. Examining curfews and incarceration, she notes that the plummeting rates of juvenile crime in California are not due to incarceration-driven policy. In fact, she says, “over the last 15 years, California’s youth prisons and local youth jails have released more than 10,000 formerly incarcerated youths onto the streets and in 2010, California youth crime stands at an all-time low.”

Incarcerating, therefore, is not a great idea. Would judicious use of curfews minimize our reliance on incarceration? That’s unclear. But it would seem that, before making a decision about such steps, we should pay attention to actual crime rates, rather than to our perception of crime.

Occupy Oakland, Policing, and Secondary Deviance

Angela Davis yesterday at Occupy Oakland.
Photo courtesy Joe Feria-Galicia, RP&E Journal 

This morning’s Chronicle reports fierce encounters between  Occupy Oakland protesters and police. As was the case with the protests following Johannes Mehserle’s verdict, protests in Oakland were peaceful until the evening, and then escalated into vandalism and violent clashes.

The Chron piece documents serious debates within the protesting community regarding violence, as well as about the appropriateness of police response. We have no data yet as to the identity of the arrestees, but if this is anything like the Oscar Grant protests of yesteryear, at least some of them might be out-of-towners taking advantage of the protest to engage in vandalism.

What is going on in Oakland? The ferocious animosity between communities of color and the city police force have been long noted in literature, the latest example being Victor Rios’ recent book Punished. The book is an ethnography of Black and Latino youth in Oakland, documenting their constant criminalization by their surroundings, including police, the schools, and their own families. Rios argues that the pervasive perception that these young men are either actual or potential criminals, to be constantly monitored, addressed, and oppressed, provokes some of them to actually live up to the label and join street gangs. While Rios does not explicitly pay homage to labeling theory, his interviews and observations seem to support Edwin Lemert’s theory of secondary deviance, according to which young people who are constantly labeled as deviants eventually internalize the label:

When a person begins to employ his deviant behavior or a role based upon it as a means of defense, attack, or adjustment to the overt and covert problems created by the consequent societal reaction to him, his deviation is secondary. Objective evidences of this change will be found in the symbolic appurtenances of the new role, in clothes, speech, posture, and mannerisms, which in some cases heighten social visibility, and which in some cases serve as symbolic cues to professionalization.(1951: 76)

Lemert’s theory, and Rios’ findings among Oakland youth, may go a long way toward explaining why protest events in Oakland have such potential to deteriorate, while similar events in San Francisco go by more peacefully. Encounters between police and community in San Francisco simply do not carry the same baggage that they do in Oakland. And, while it would be absurd to argue that vandalism does not really exist and is solely the product of a label, it is important to acknowledge the role of police and government expectations in encouraging/discouraging violence. In San Francisco, supervisors urged police to treat protesters peacefully. At our District Attorney debate at Hastings, all four candidates present vehemently stated that they would never treat Occupy protesters using violent means, nor would they seek charges against them. The role of environment and charged past encounters in generating violence cannot be ignored, and the Oakland police force, constantly sitting atop a keg of resentment on the part of racialized and criminalized communities, should not be surprised at its prophecies coming true.

BART Riots and Police Brutality: More on the Othering of Crime

As I write this post, BART is finally opening its downtown stations, after shutting them down in an effort to curb protests against police violence. What has been referred to in the media as “civil unrest” is yielding broad coverage, not least because of BART’s decision to cut down cellular phone service within its premises. Now that’s what some would call grounds for “civil unrest”.

But back to the topic of protest. So, the stations have been shut down, and it is rush hour. The Chronicle reports:

BART police closed the Civic Center station after at least one protester blocked a door of a Dublin-Pleasanton train for two minutes as others chanted “No justice, no peace.” The train continued east, and a dispersal order was soon issued.


“Once we got to a situation where the BART platform was unsafe, we cleared the station,” said BART Deputy Police Chief Daniel Hartwig, referring to the first closure. “We cannot jeopardize the safety of the patrons or the employees here.”


Some transit riders were infuriated. Jennifer Cohn, an attorney who works downtown, arrived at the Civic Center station at about 6 p.m. with her two sons, ages 3 and 4, after picking them up from day care. She was trying to get home to the Glen Park neighborhood.


With the station closed, she tried to catch a cab, but they seemed to be avoiding the area.


“This is an outrage. We just want to get home,” Cohn said. “I don’t really see why they should be shutting down the stations. If they have an issue with BART, they should go to BART headquarters.”

No, Ms. Cohn; what’s outrageous is that the police shoot innocent people. This “issue” is a prime example of people standing up to police abuse. And there are good reasons for all rush hour commuters to join them, rather than complain. We posted here before about the scathing review of BART police practices in the aftermath of Oscar Grant’s tragic death.

Now, why would Ms. Cohn and other riders be indifferent to this important issue? Could they possibly think that the abuses of force, unfettered discretion, and lack of professionalism at BART are good things? In all likelihood, they have not been paying much attention to the news. Or maybe, like Costelloe, Chiricos and Gertz’s survey subjects, they think that, at the receiving end of police abuse, are only people who deserve such abuse. Thuggish people. Scary people. Gang-y people. People who don’t look or behave like them.

Because, as we all know, if you don’t finish the vegetables off your plate, a cop will come get you. But if you do, no harm will befall you.

I heartily wish to all those perturbed rush-hour BART passengers, that they will never be shot in the back when handcuffed by an officer who was, assuming the best of scenarios, untrained in distinguishing between his gun and his taser (gentle reader, you can assume other scenarios if you prefer.) And that, if by any chance or bad luck, they are ever mistaken by an overzealous cop with poor vision for one of those “other” “bad” people, that others will be willing to stand up for them and raise their voice in protest. Even if it means that a few good, law-abiding citizens get home for dinner fifteen minutes late.

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Many thanks to Kathryn Nettles and Tom Oster for the conversation that inspired this post.

Debtors’ Prisons in California?

from DemandProgress.org:

Americans are in more debt than ever before, and the banks are going to new extremes to squeeze us for every last penny: If you can’t pay up, they’ll try to get you locked up.

The Wall Street Journal has been investigating the disturbing resurgence of debtors’ prisons throughout America — here’s one especially infuriating example of what the banks are up to: AIG got a $122.8 billion bailout from taxpayers — that’s $4,000 per American. Jeffrey Stearns happened to owe AIG $4,000 on a loan for his pickup truck. How’d the mega-corporation handle his debt? Did they forgive him because of the public’s recent largess? No way: They had him arrested in front of his family.

Will you urge California’s lawmakers to shut down the debtors’ prisons? Just click here to automatically email your state legislators.

Here’s more on Stearns:

After being handcuffed in front of his four children, Mr. Stearns, 29 years old, spent two nights in jail, where he said he was strip-searched and sprayed for lice. “I didn’t even know I was being sued….It’s the scariest thing that ever happened to me.”

The Wall Street Journal’s data reveals that across the country, banks are having tens of thousands of Americans arrested over their debts. What happened to Stearns could happen to almost anybody.

Some state legislators are moving to outlaw the practice. Will you urge your lawmakers to join them?

Regulating Medical Marijuana

Once, in a criminology course, I asked my students whether they thought there would be less criminalizing if we regulated prostitution. At first, they all thought that we would see many less people prosecuted for prostitution-related offenses: No more john schools, no more arrests of prostitutes. Then, we all thought about the need for health codes, zoning, contact with minors, labor and employment issues, and realized that people would still be prosecuted; they’d be prosecuted for technicalities. Max Weber would have a field day.

After the demise of Prop 19, the medical marijuana industry supposedly would continue its business as usual. However, it appears that things have changed. The rate of raids on dispensaries have increased, and, as reported by the Sac Bee, advocates call for state-wide regulation of the industry. The fact that a behavior is “legal” does not mean that it is “unregulated”, and does not avoid the interaction with law enforcement in situations of real or imagined violations.

Currently, under California law, dispensaries providing medical marijuana must operate as nonprofit “collectives” of registered medical marijuana patients who reimburse dispensaries for the costs of providing medicinal pot.

But medical cannabis in California has boomed into an industry generating an estimated $1.3 billion in transactions and paying hundreds of millions of dollars in salaries, rent and overhead costs.

Authorities, looking for illicit profiteering, last year raided scores of dispensaries in San Jose and Chico and prosecuted medical marijuana providers in San Diego County. The district attorney in Los Angeles, Steve Cooley, branded a local boom in medical marijuana outlets as “storefronts illegally pushing pot.”

Assemblyman Tom Ammiano, D-San Francisco, said he intends to introduce an “omnibus cannabis bill” to create a state oversight program to regulate medical marijuana dispensaries and all aspects of delivering marijuana to legal medicinal users.

Ammiano said the Legislature needs to clarify the rules due to the wildly divergent approaches towards dispensaries. They are embraced in some California cities and raided in others.

How much of the need for such regulation would go away if we legalized marijuana for everyone? Some of it would. The need to supervise dispensaries for medical needs of patients would disappear. However, there would be other regulatory aspects. Dosage, sources, zoning–all of those would have to be carefully defined. Rather than checking patient ID cards, drivers’ licenses would need to be checked to ensure no sales to minors. Personal growing areas would have to be measured to ensure a differentiation between a personal and a commercial growing operation. In other words, there is no guarantee that the eyes of law enforcement agent would immediately be diverted elsewhere, a-la The Eye of Sauron. More rules might mean more infractions.

What statewide regulation would do, however, is clarify the extent of commercialization we allow the medical marijuana industry. That is not necessarily a bad thing; it would be an opportunity to give some thought to the question why it has been important to keep this industry on a non-profit basis. I’d be curious to hear from our readers on this: How would you envision such statewide regulations?