Collateral damage
Jul 26th 2001
From The Economist print edition
The drugs war has many casualties
THE most conspicuous victim of the war on drugs has been
justice, especially in America, where law enforcement and the legal
system have taken the brunt of the harm. But all over the world
there are human victims too: the drug users jailed to punish them
for the equivalent of binge drinking or smoking two packs a
day—except that their habit is illegal. Many emerge from prison
more harmed, and more harmful, than when they go in.
The attack on drugs has led to an erosion of civil liberties and an
encroachment of the state that alarms liberals on America's right
as well as the old hippies of the left. At the Cato Institute, a
right-wing think-tank in Washington, DC, Timothy Lynch is
dismayed by the way the war on drugs seems to be corrupting
police forces. Not only does it breed what some might see as
excusable dishonesty: “testalying”, or lying on the witness stand
in order to put a gang behind bars. It also breeds police officers
who, says Mr Lynch, “use the powers of policing to put a rival
gang out of action”.
The drugs war perverts
policing in other ways too.
For example, the police
can keep property seized
from a drugs offender,
which may be giving the
wrong incentives. Another
undesirable effect has
been the militarisation of
America's police forces.
Some 90% of police
departments in cities with
populations over 50,000,
and 70% of departments
in smaller cities, now have
paramilitary units. These Special Weapons and Tactics, or SWAT,
teams are sometimes equipped with tanks and grenade launchers.
In Fresno, California, the SWAT team has two helicopters complete
with night-vision goggles; in Boone County, Indiana, an amphibious
armoured personnel carrier. Set up initially to deal with
emergencies such as hostage crises, such teams increasingly
undertake drugs raids. Inevitably, from time to time they raid the
wrong premises or shoot the wrong suspects.
Civil liberties also suffer because there is usually no complaining
witness in a drugs case: both buyer and seller want the
transaction to take place. The police, says Mr Lynch, therefore
need to rely on informants, wire-taps and undercover tactics that
are not normally used in other crimes. The result is “a cancer in
our courtrooms”, as he puts it, that proponents of America's drugs
war rarely acknowledge as one of the costs of prohibition.
To these intrusions should be added many smaller ones. All manner
of benefits have become conditional on a clean drugs record.
Employers routinely test staff for drugs: in the mid-1990s, 14% of
employees said their bosses tested people when they hired, and a
further 18% said they subsequently conducted random tests.
Access to student loans, driving licences and public housing are all
now jeopardised by taking drugs. Since traces of cannabis stay in
the urine longer than those of more dangerous drugs, the greatest
threat to such privileges comes from the mildest offence.
Out of sight
But by far the worst consequence of the war on drugs is the
imprisonment of thousands of young blacks and Hispanics. Of the
$35 billion or so that the American authorities spend each year on
tackling drugs, at least three-quarters goes not on prevention or
treatment but on catching and punishing drug dealers and users.
More than one in ten of all arrests—1.5m in 1999—is for drug
offences. Some 40% of those drug arrests were for possessing
marijuana. Fewer than 20% were for the sale or manufacture of
drugs, whether heroin, cocaine or anything else. The arrests also
sweep up a distressingly large number of teenagers: 220,000
juveniles were picked up for drug offences in 1997, 82% more than
in 1993.
Many of those arrested
receive mandatory
minimum sentences of five
or ten years for
possession of a few grams
of drugs, a dire
punishment rushed
through Congress in 1986
amid hysteria about crack
cocaine. Eric Sterling, now
head of the Criminal
Justice Policy Foundation,
a campaigning group,
worked in Congress on
drugs policy at the time.
He recalls that Congress set small quantities for no better reason
than ignorance, politicking and “a lack of fluency in the metric
system”.
Because congressmen did not know their grams from their kilos
back in 1986, America's prisons are crammed with drug offenders,
who now account for roughly one in four of those in custody, and
more than half of all federal prisoners. Most of these drug
offenders are locked up for non-violent crimes: in only 12% of
cases was any weapon involved. Almost all are from the broad
bottom end of the drug-dealing pyramid. America's imprisonment
rate for drug offences alone now exceeds the rate of imprisonment
in most West European countries for crimes of all kinds.
Disturbingly, even though drug use is spread fairly evenly across
different racial groups, three-quarters of those locked up are
non-white (see chart). For example, most users of crack cocaine
are white, but 90% of crack defendants in federal courts are black
or Hispanic. White people, being generally richer, do their deals
behind closed doors, whereas blacks and Hispanics tend to trade
on the streets, where they can be caught more easily. A report by
The Sentencing Project, a group lobbying for criminal-justice
reform, notes that black people account for 13% of monthly drug
users; 35% of those arrested for possessing drugs; 55% of those
convicted; and 74% of those sentenced to prison.
Thanks to the war on drugs,
says JoAnne Page, head of
the Fortune Society, which
campaigns on behalf of
ex-prisoners, there are now
more young black men in
prison than in college. “The
consequences are
devastating,” she says. “We
are taking a whole
generation of young black
and Latino kids and
teaching them a set of
survival skills that allow
them to live in prison but
get them fired from any
job.” A recent study by
Human Rights Watch reports
that 20% of men in prison
are victims of forcible sex.
“The rage that these people
come out with affects their
relations with their families,” says Ms Page.
If they go to prison without a drugs habit, they may soon acquire
one. “I've seen heroin, marijuana, cocaine in prison,” reports Julio
Pagan, a former convict who is now a counsellor. “I've seen people
injecting drugs.” Those who inject in prison are at extreme risk of
contracting HIV, because they are far more likely than users
outside to share needles. Dr Alex Wodak, director of an alcohol
and drugs unit at St Vincent's Hospital, in Sydney, Australia,
calculates that at least half the inmates in Australia's prisons are
injecting drug users, half of whom continue injecting in jail, where
they might typically share needles with 100 people in a year.
This risk is unique neither to Australia nor to the rich world. Dr
Wodak cites disturbing evidence that the sharing of needles by
injecting drug users in prisons in Thailand has been the origin of
that country's terrifying AIDS epidemic. Locking up drug injectors
and failing to provide them with clean needles may thus be one of
the biggest threats to global public health.
These immense costs to society must, of course, be set against
the benefits gained from banning drugs. But there is another, more
mundane cost that should be taken into account: the loss of
potential revenue. One of the main reasons Prohibition eventually
came to an end in America was that it yielded no tax revenues.
Likewise, prohibition of drugs hands over to criminals and rogue
states a vast amount of revenue—say $80 billion-100 billion a
year, based on the gap between rich-world import prices and retail
prices—that governments could otherwise tax away and spend for
the common good.