What an interesting book.
I read it faster than I've read almost any other book - cover to cover in two days. (I'm normally a really slow reader.) Although the middle kind of drags on, with the same thesis repeated in several different forms, it's quite an enlightening read.
I've always considered myself well informed and quite liberal on drug issues, but it turns out that I was much more influenced by anti-drug propaganda than I had realized. My mind has been filled with stories that are true, personal experiences, or second-hand accounts of people I trusted, but I was seeing them in the wrong light. I thought of my father performing autopsies on cocaine users whose hearts had stopped with no warning. Someone who tried to kill his roommate with an axe while tweaking on crystal. Lots of perfectly real scare stories, which had caused me to feel chills just thinking about these "hard" drugs.
But these were still viewed through the lens of prohibition. Conveniently forgotten in these tales were the many, many more cases my father had seen of alcohol poisoning, a common cause of death among young people in the town where I grew up. Drunken rages in which people were killed - one that killed one of my best friend's bosses just two months ago. Somehow, because of the legality and familarity of alcohol, these were not "scare stories" about drugs. They were, instead, stories about people, and their foolishness; the blame was not transferred to the chemical.
The best part of the book is his historical review of alcohol prohibition, and the hype over the evil powers of alcohol at a time when opium and cocaine were not only legal, but popular and commonly used in "patent medicines". He illustrates how prohibition didn't cut down on drinking for more than a few years, but instead shifted drinking towards hard liquor, a more dangerous substance that was simply easier to smuggle and conceal. Similarly, when cocaine and opium were legal, they weren't consumed in their most severe forms, but in much milder preparations such as beverages and tinctures. Prohibition, in retrospect, doesn't reduce use so much as make that use more severe, and probably more harmful.
Sullum doesn't argue that drugs are always good. He seriously considers the argument that drug prohibition is justified by the harm it prevents. But he does put all drugs onto a level playing field. There is an abundance of statistics indicating the rates at which drug problems actually occur, and these reveal a huge, invisible majority of drug users - even of "hard" drugs like heroin and crack - who are not addicted, do not suffer severe problems, and most often stop using the drug when it no longer suits their needs. Just as with alcohol.
In my mind, as is the case for many people, I had formed a hierarchy of harm. Tobacco and alcohol are not so great, but not so terribly harmful. Pot is maybe a little better, a little worse, but other things, such as crystal and PCP, are scary and dangerous. Common sense, right? Well, maybe not. When you look at actual patterns of use, these "hard" drugs don't look so hard anymore. It is the lack of direct experience with these things that makes us so suceptible to scare stories - the "voodo pharmacology" he describes, wherein these substances have the mysterious power to turn people into zombies. But, if Sullum is right, these scare stories, despite their kernel of truth, are mostly just mass hysteria. Psychologically, prohibition is hardly different from witch-burning.
Sullum is saying, in effect, that drugs don't cause addiction, but rather, addicts cause addiction. That drugs don't cause criminals, but that people are criminals to begin with; that drug use and crime have a common cause, and do not cause each other except through the mechanisms of prohibition itself. That addiction adheres not to the drug, but to the user, and the availability (or not) of any particular drug is not the most relevant factor. This is a not a new idea, but it is rare to have it explained and supported so clearly and convincingly.
In reading this, I find an almost existential relief. This book affirms the power of the individual to control their lives, and casts aside the superstitious, magical thinking that ascribes such amazing powers to mere chemicals. Sullum's argument becomes most interesting when he argues that drug use by teenagers is perfectly appropriate, so long as it is done with the guidance of caring role models. He points out how unreasonable it is to expect someone with no experience with alcohol to suddenly become "responsible" on their 21st birthday, and somehow just know how to use it appropriately. Or worse, that they should consume it furtively, with no guidance, at secret parties. Instead, he suggests that teenagers should be introduced to alcohol, among other drugs (he specifically cites marijuana) in controlled environments, preferably in the company of their parents. With a chorus of "what about the children" seemingly right around the corner, this is a brave statement to make. Perfectly sensible, of course, but it's always the most sensible ideas that are the most dangerous to say out loud.
Is this book biased? Such questions are very hard to answer. In reading it, I was reminded of the furor over The Skeptical Environmentalist, a book full of references to scientific literature that were later criticized as being tangential, incorrect, or at best, highly selective. I was frustrated by that controversy, but didn't have the motivation to track down all the references and evaluate them for myself. In contrast, with Saying Yes, I am eagerly awaiting its challengers. Because I want to know the truth; is this guy giving us a realistic portrayal of what drugs really do, or is he, well, "smokin' crack?"
My guess is that Sullum is right on the money. Reading this book has turned me from a lukewarm anti-prohibitionist to a true drug libertarian. If he's even approximately correct, it is clear that all drugs, even the "hard" ones, should be made legal for anyone over 21, and that we must reject this "voodoo" that is granting drugs much more power than they deserve. Only then will we find balance.
