Whilst many countries are slowly turning away from the worldwide culture of prohibition, at least with regards to cannabis, Britain appears committed to the 1971 Misuse of Drugs Act that has long criminalised the drug.
And with Labour Leader Sir Keir Starmer announcing his intention to oppose efforts to reform the UK’s drug policy, this has only been reiterated in recent weeks.
“I’ve seen too much of the damage that sits behind drugs,” the former Director of Public Prosecution explained, justifying his stance with reference to the violent gangs that drive their proliferation.
But Starmer, like so many others, misses the point. Decriminalisation does not empower criminal gangs profiting from the sale of illicit drugs. On the contrary, it starves them of income.
Prohibition, on the other hand, not only inflates prices (transforming drugs like cannabis into valuable commodities), but drives drugs into the hands of those already comfortable living outside of the law.
As in any market, this sparks competition. And because this competition occurs between rival drug gangs, as opposed to licenced businesses, organised crime networks struggle to dominate the market in ways that become ever more violent.
In this sense, it is prohibition, not decriminalisation, that fuels violent crime.
But prohibitionists have more than just this argument. Just as common is the notion that cannabis is an addictive and dangerous drug that poses serious risks to public health.
In many ways, however, cannabis can be considered safer than many legal highs.
Potential medicinal benefits aside, it is, for instance, essentially impossible to overdose on cannabis, and the physical health risks are negligible compared to the liver and lung conditions associated with alcohol and tobacco.
Moreover, whilst 9% of regular cannabis users can be expected to become dependent on the drug, this is significantly lower than both nicotine (67%) and alcohol (22%).
Nor is cannabis likely to incur the social costs associated with alcohol-fuelled anti-social behaviour. Stoners are a relatively benign group, posing a greater threat to the contents of their fridge than society at large.
The real issue, however, surrounds the impact of cannabis use on one’s mental health. Several studies have found evidence linking cannabis use to depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia, fuelling understandable fears around widespread use of the drug.
But the causal link between cannabis and mental illness is not as simple as is often suggested.
Some academics, for example, warn of some “reverse causality,” whereby mental illness may increase one’s dependency on cannabis – not the other way around. And whilst cannabis has been linked to issues around mental health, many studies suggest that the biggest risk is not the development of mental illness per se, but the exacerbation of pre-existing issues.
There are risks, of course, and not everybody should expose themselves to psychoactive chemicals. But most cannabis users experience few, if any, problems with mental illness. And when they do, this may be influenced by the potency of the cannabis being sold.
Strains high in THC and low in CBD are associated with increased rates of dependence and mental illness, for example, and may actually increase the probability of psychotic disorder among predisposed young people.
But again, this is an issue best tackled through decriminalisation. Today, there is no way for customers to verify the THC/CBD content of what a street dealer is selling. But by regulating the sale of cannabis, lawmakers would be able to ensure a level of care and customer safety that is impossible in a context of prohibition.
This, of course, begins to look more like legalisation than decriminalisation. But it’s only fair to consider the argument.
There is one final argument in favour of decriminalisation that I would like to present.
Often, proponents of decriminalisation feel a need to justify the use of drugs like cannabis – hence the common focus on the potential medicinal benefits of various drugs.
It is much rarer, however, to hear the simple argument that adult human beings should have their own freedom to decide what drugs they do or do not use, and that we should not need state permission to do so.
Somehow, this relatively benign idea – that adult human beings should have some autonomy over their bodies – has become rather controversial, I suspect because it undermines the criminalisation of even the most stigmatised chemicals.
It is, however, one of the most fundamental arguments that can be made against state prohibition, and I’ve yet to hear a decent case against it.
None of this matters, however, now that we have an opposition leader determined to avoid political controversy. And until British politicians wake up to the facts, and abandon centuries old stigmas and biases, thousands of people will face criminal charges for benign, plant-based crimes.
I’ll admit, the prospects for decriminalisation appear as bleak as ever. But the case for decriminalisation gets stronger every day, and even the most committed ideologues can only hold out against the facts for so long.
It might not happen today. But eventually, British drug policy will have to be dragged into the 21st century.