Labate Cavnar Rodrigues - Drug Policy Americas

BeatrizCaiubyLabate ClancyCavnar
ThiagoRodrigues Editors
Drug Policies
and the Politics
of Drugs in the
Americas
Drug Policies and the Politics of Drugs
in the Americas
ThiS is a FM Blank Page
Beatriz Caiuby Labate Clancy Cavnar
Thiago Rodrigues
Editors
Drug Policies and the Politics

of Drugs in the Americas
Editors
Beatriz Caiuby Labate Clancy Cavnar
CIDE Center for Economic Research San Francisco, California
and Education USA
Aguascalientes
Mexico
Thiago Rodrigues
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
ISBN 978-3-319-29080-5 ISBN 978-3-319-29082-9 (eBook)

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016948206
Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016

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Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform
The publication of Drug Policies and the Politics of Drugs in the Americas could
not be timelier, as it coincides with an unprecedented debate on drug policy reform
across the hemisphere. The book also fills a void in the literature, as scant academic
work has been published in recent years on drug policy in the region. To my
knowledge, it is also the first book in English to focus on both the evolution of
the drug policy debate and the reform processes underway in some Latin American
and Caribbean countries.
The April 2012 Cartagena summit, in which the regions presidents tasked the
Organization of American States (OAS) with analyzing present drug control poli-
cies and exploring alternative approaches, launched a regional discussion of a topic
long considered taboo. While the hemisphere remains divided on many drug policy-
related issues, a consensus is emerging around the need to treat drug use as a public
healthnot criminalissue; the urgent need to address the regions prison crisis by
reducing the numbers of those incarcerated on low-level drug offenses; and the
importance of giving countries the flexibility to experiment with policies most
suited to their own national realities. The regional debate has spilled onto the
world stage. As a result of a proposal by the governments of Colombia, Guatemala,
and Mexico, a special session of the UN General Assembly (UNGASS) on the
world drug problem will be held in April 2016, providing an opportunity for the
highest-level debate on the international drug control system in recent history. In
short, Latin America is at the vanguard of the international drug policy debate.
How it got there is due to a convergence of factors. The US government has long
flexed its political, military, and economic muscle to dictate regionalif not
globaldrug policies, with a particularly strong impact on countries of historic
US domination and those dependent on US economic support (Central America and
the Andes). Even today, the Associated Press reports that an estimated 4,000 US
troops are on the ground and agents from at least 10 US agencies are involved in
drug control efforts across Latin America. And, while paling in comparison to the
billions of dollars spent on Plan Colombia, a US government counter-drug aid
package launched in that country in 1999, the Obama administration has asked the
US Congress to fund a one billion dollar aid package for Central America to help
v
vi Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform
address the root causes of violence, drug trafficking, and the flow of migrants north.
Yet, for the most part, Washington is no longer calling the shots when it comes to
national and regional drug policies.
This is due in part to the emergence in recent years of left-wing governments that
have challenged US hegemony in its backyard. At the same time, sharply
declining levels of US economic assistance and US policymakers preoccupation
with foreign policy crisis in other parts of the world have contributed to declining
US influence in the region. President Obama himself recognized this new reality at
the April 2015 summit of hemispheric leaders in Panama, stating: The days in
which our agenda in this hemisphere so often presumed that the United States could
meddle with impunity, those days are past. Of course, with regard to drug policy,
the US government also has a serious credibility problem. With four US states
having implemented or in the process of implementing legal, regulated cannabis
markets, the United States is now clearly out of compliance with the very interna-
tional drug control conventions that it so carefully crafted.
Another factor spurring the debate is that some countriesmost notably,
Bolivia, Uruguay, and Ecuadorhave been willing to experiment with innovative,
if not radical, reforms. Boldly challenging the 1961 Single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs, Bolivia is the first country to denounce and return to the convention with a
reservation allowing for licit coca use in that country. In his chapter on Bolivia,
Thomas Grisaffi describes how coca leaf has been used for millennia by indige-
nous peoples in the Andean countries and has social and cultural uses that, while
rejected by the international drug control conventions, are now enshrined in the
Bolivian constitution. Not long after Bolivias historic step, Uruguay became the
first country in the world to create a legal, regulated cannabis market. Guillermo
Garat describes the debate within Uruguay, the challenges in creating such a
market, and the opportunity it offers, if implemented successfully, to present an
alternative approach to regulating the worlds most consumed illicit substance.
After several years of internal debate, Ecuador ultimately implemented a sweep-
ing penal code reform that creates far greater proportionality in sentencing for drug
offenses and attempts to clearly distinguish between consumers and traffickers.
Jacome and Alvarez Velasco explain how the principle of favorability, enshrined
in the Ecuadorian justice system, allows for the new penal code to be applied
retroactively. As a result, between August 2014, when the new penal code went into
effect, and March 2015, more than 2300 people convicted on drug offenses were
released from prison. The new Ecuadorian penal code provides a model for other
countries seeking to reduce the incarceration rates of low-level drug offenders.
Finally, a fundamental factor driving the regional drug policy debate is the high
cost paid by Latin American countries for implementing policies dictated, at least
initially, by Washington. Indeed, the region is significantly worse off than when US
President Richard Nixon launched the War on Drugs over 40 years ago. Drug
trafficking routes that used to be confined to strategic corridors now proliferate
across the region, crisscrossing in every direction. With them come organized
crime, corruption, and the erosion of democratic institutions. Of particular concern
Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform vii
are the unacceptably high levels of violence in some countries. According to the
United Nations Development Program (UNDP), while Latin America holds 8 % of
the worlds population, 42 % of the worlds homicides take place there. And, as the
drug trade has expanded, so have drug markets and problematic drug use in
countries with scant resources to invest in health care, let alone drug treatment
programs.
Punitive drug policies are the driving force behind the regions prison crisis.
Excessively harsh sentencing policies, the adoption of mandatory minimums, and
the expansion of conducts considered to be drug crimes have led to an explosion of
people in jail on low-level drug offenses. As documented by the Collective for the
Study of Drugs and the Law (Colectivo de Estudios Drogas y Derecho, CEDD), in
many countries, the penalties for committing any drug-related crime are higher than
for rape or murder. In Ecuador, prior to the adoption of its new penal code, the
mandatory sentence for drug crimes was 1225 years, while the maximum sentence
for killing someone was 16 years. Hence, it was not uncommon to find low-level
drug traffickers incarcerated with longer sentences than murderers.
Numerous chapters of the book document how it is the most vulnerable sectors
of society that bear the brunt of the punitive approach to drug control, in other
words, how drug laws and policies contribute to the criminalization of poverty. In
the case of Jamaica, for example, police routinely target, arrest, and even kill those
smoking or possessing ganja in poor, marginalized communities. In Brazil, the
possession of drugs for personal use was de-penalized, but police have the discre-
tion to determine whether possession is for personal use or sale. Application of the
law has taken on a distinctly racial tone, as White people are far more likely to be
charged with possession than people of color. Of particular concern, as noted in the
case of Argentina, is the increasing number of women imprisoned for drug offenses:
nearly 70 % in some prisons, often single mothers or caregivers; the consequences
of their incarceration for their children, elderly parents, families, and communities
can be devastating. Similarly, Grisaffi describes how coca eradication impacts poor
farmers, driving them deeper into poverty and generating human rights violations
and social conflict.
These policies have also come at another high cost: the resources that could have
been invested in economic development in poor urban and rural communities, in
health care, in evidence-based treatment programs, and the like. US-backed drug
policies have also sometimes worked at cross-purposes, aiding the very forces that
are the alleged targets of the Drug War. One of the most interesting examples
provided in the book is the case of Mexico, where Benjamin T. Smith explains how
two parallel drug policies functioned side by side. On the one hand, there was the
hard-line approach based on the international drug treaties and collaboration with
the US government. On the other, there was what he refers to as the gray zone,
where collusion between criminal organizations and institutions of the state takes
place. Perhaps the most compelling example of aiding the enemy comes after the
period covered by the chapter ends, when a special counter-drug unit funded by the
US government changed sides and became the notorious Zetas drug cartel.
viii Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform
While often overlooked in the Latin America reform discourse, the citizens of
the United States have also paid a high cost for implementing punitive drug
policies. Nowhere is this more evident than in the nations prisons. The United
States makes up 5 % of the worlds population, yet has 25 % of the worlds prison
populationand 33 % of the worlds female prison population. As in Latin
America, the primary factor driving the significant increase in the number of both
state and federal prisoners is harsh sentencing policies for drug-related crimes, in
particular mandatory minimums. Michelle Alexanders groundbreaking book, The
New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, brought unprec-
edented public attention to the racial dimensions of how the War on Drugs is waged
in the United States.
More than 40 years after the so-called Drug War was launched, and billions of
dollars later, there is no doubt that it has failed to come even remotely close to
achieving the US governments own stated goals of reducing the production and
consumption of drugs deemed to be illicit. Why the US government remains
wedded to policies that have failed is one of the harder questions to answer, as
the present US drug policy in so many ways defies logic. Steve Rolles does a good
job of addressing the question in his chapter on the United States. After explaining
the tendencyin the United States as well as internationallyto conflate the harms
caused by prohibition with the harms caused by drugs themselves, he points to four
overlapping explanations: an entrenched bureaucracy, including enforcement agen-
cies, that depends on policy continuity; politicians aversions to being seen as soft
on drugs; the widely held view that using illegal drugs is intrinsically immoral;
and the use of the drug issue as a vehicle for other foreign policy objectives,
including direct and indirect military intervention. Similarly, in their introductory
chapter, Thiago Rodrigues and Beatriz Labate provide an interesting view on how
multiple and interconnected factors are the driving forces behind prohibition,
including moral and social views and public security and international security
concerns.
Yet, the US drug policy is on a slow path to reform. The Obama administration
long ago dropped the use of Drug War terminology and has placed far greater
emphasis on addressing demand for illegal drugs. Obamas signature healthcare
reform incorporates provision of treatment for drug dependency, greatly expanding
access to treatment services. In response to the cannabis legalization efforts at the
state level, the administration has responded cautiously, announcing that it would
not intervene in the implementation of legal, regulated cannabis markets, while
laying out a series of conditions which, if not met, could result in federal action.
Where President Obama has spoken out most forcefully is on the need to end mass
incarceration in the United States. While significant reductions in the US prison
population ultimately depend on the US Congress enacting legislative reforms, the
US Department of Justice has implemented numerous regulatory changes that could
reduce the number of federal prisoners. As a result, for the first time since 1980, the
US federal prison population declined between 2012 and 2013.
Reforms are progressing slowly in Latin America as well. While bold initiatives
have been undertaken in Bolivia, Uruguay, and Ecuador, as described above, the
Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform ix
drug policy debate in other countries has failed to translate into substantive reforms.
This is particularly true in the case of the three countries that have led the push for
broadening the debate at the international level: Guatemala, Colombia, and Mexico.
In the case of Guatemala, it is now clear that, for all of his rhetoric and calls for
debating legalization, President Otto Perez Molina will likely leave office without
having implemented a single drug policy reform in his own country. Amanda
Feilding and Juan Fernandez Ochoa point to a number of factors that have led to
this disappointing outcome, including (and perhaps most significantly) the deep-
rooted nexus between organized crime, intelligence and security forces, and gov-
ernment officials. In the case of Colombia, a new drug law was drafted that could
result in significant reforms, but officials from that country have made clear that no
such reforms will be implemented until peace negotiations with the FARC guer-
rillas have concluded. One accord already reached in those negotiations would
result in a shift from forced eradication to a focus on economic development in
some coca and poppy growing regions of the country that, if implemented, would
mark a dramatic departure from past policies. Finally, in the case of Mexico, a clear
disconnect exists between the positions advocated by Mexican officials on the
international stage and policy change domestically. While local analysts and
activists lament the lack of a domestic drug policy reform agenda, Mexico is
playing an extremely significant role in pushing for a wide-ranging, inclusive,
and transparent debate at the UNGASS on drugs, to take place in 2016.
Ironically, some of the countries most opposed to having that debate are among
the more left-wing governments in the region. Venezuela, along with Nicaragua
and Cuba, which are not included in the book, tends to most vociferously defend the
status quo; indeed, today they behave far more like drug warriors than the United
States. The chapter on Venezuela provides a compelling explanation of why the
Chavez and now Maduro governments have challenged US hegemony in the
region, while at the same time continuing to wage its Drug War. That explanation
is rooted in both ideology and the perceived need to respond to Washingtons
repeated accusations that drug-related corruption is allowing the trade to flourish
in that country.
In short, despite the drug policy debate underway across the hemisphere and its
international implications, Latin American and the Caribbean countries remain
divided on the way forward. Moreover, for the most part, public opinion strongly
favors mano dura or hard-line approaches. Though the link between drugs and
crime is not clearly established in many cases, as discussed in the Venezuela
chapter, popular perceptions tend to equate drug policy reforms with increased
drug use and crime. In contrast to the United States, where cannabis legalization
efforts are being driven by popular support at the state level, the Uruguayan
government implemented its legalization effort despite public opinion, which has
remained opposed to the initiative. An innovative educational campaign carried out
by local NGOs at the time the legislation was being debated in congress only moved
public opinion by a few percentage points; however, it was successful in improving
the quality of the debate and bringing key civil society sectors on board. The
government believes that the ultimate results of its approach will convince the
x Foreword: From Drug Prohibition to Reform
countrys citizens that it is a more effective way of regulating cannabis cultivation

and use.
This book is a must-read for anyone interested in one of the most cutting-edge
debates in the hemisphere today. It provides an in-depth review of the history of the
Drug War in key Latin American countries, a sound critique of the way those
policies have been designed and implemented, and the costs that have been incurred
by countries across the region as a result. The authors offer a review of the debates
presently underway and the reforms being implemented. While clearly laying out
the realities in each of the countries presented, including obstacles and challenges to
reform efforts, a cautious optimism seeps through. Perhaps the so-called War on
Drugsa war waged on some of the most marginalized and vulnerable sectors of
societyis finally coming to an end. We can only hope that more humane and
effective policies will take its place.
Coletta A. Youngers
Contents
1 Introduction: Drugs and Politics in the Americas: A Laboratory

for Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Clancy Cavnar, and Thiago Rodrigues
2 Prohibition and the War on Drugs in the Americas: An Analytical
Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Thiago Rodrigues and Beatriz Caiuby Labate
3 Public Drug Policy and Grey Zone Pacts in Mexico, 19201980 . . . 33
Benjamin T. Smith
4 Drug Policy in Guatemala: Constraints and Opportunities . . . . . . 53
Amanda Feilding and Juan Fernandez Ochoa
5 Ecuador: The Evolution of Drug Policies in the Middle of the
World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Ana Isabel Jacome and Carla Alvarez Velasco
6 Seeking Alternatives to Repression: Drug Policies and the Rule
of Law in Colombia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
Rodrigo Uprimny and Diana Esther Guzman
7 Revolution and Counter-Reform: The Paradoxes of Drug Policy
in Bolivarian Venezuela . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Andres Antillano, Veronica Zubillaga, and Keymer A vila
8 From Freedom to Repression and Violence: The Evolution

of Drug Policy in Peru . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Aldo F. Ponce
9 Social Control in Bolivia: A Humane Alternative to the Forced
Eradication of Coca Crops . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
Thomas Grisaffi
xi
xii Contents
10 History and Changes of the Drug Policy in Argentina . . . . . . . . . . 167

R. Alejandro Corda and Diana Rossi
11 Brazilian Drug Policy: Tension Between Repression and
Alternatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
12 Uruguay: A Way to Regulate the Cannabis Market . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Guillermo Garat
13 Ganja Terrorism and the Healing of the Nation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
Jahlani A.H. Niaah
14 From Drug War to Policy Reform: Implications of US Drug
Strategy for Latin America . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
Steve Rolles
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263
List of Contributors
Editors
Clancy Cavnar has a doctorate in clinical psychology (PsyD) from John

F. Kennedy University. She currently works at a dual diagnosis residential drug
treatment center in San Francisco and is a research associate of the Nucleus for
Interdisciplinary Studies of Psychoactives (NEIP). She combines an eclectic array
of interests and activities as clinical psychologist, artist, and researcher. She has an
undergraduate degree in liberal arts from the New College of the University of
South Florida, a master of fine arts in painting from the San Francisco Art Institute,
a masters in counseling from San Francisco State University, and a certificate in
substance abuse counseling from the extension program of the University of
California at Berkeley. Her art is inspired by her experience with psychedelics,
especially with the Santo Daime religious tradition. She is author and co-author of
articles in the Journal of Psychoactive Drugs and the International Journal for
Drug Policy, among others. She is co-editor, with Beatriz Caiuby Labate, of four
books: The Therapeutic Use of Ayahuasca (Springer, 2014); Prohibition, Religious
Freedom, and Human Rights: Regulating Traditional Drug Use (Springer, 2014)
Ayahuasca Shamanism in the Amazon and Beyond (Oxford University Press, 2014);
and Peyote: History, Tradition, Politics and Conservation (ABC-Clio/Praeger,
2016). Clancys art and academic work has been presented both in the USA and
abroad. For more information see: http://www.neip.info/index.php/content/view/
1438.html and http://www.clancycavnar.com.
Beatriz Caiuby Labate has a PhD in social anthropology from the State University
of Campinas (UNICAMP), Brazil. Her main areas of interest are the study of
psychoactive substances, drug policy, shamanism, ritual, and religion. She is
Professor at the Center for Research and Post Graduate Studies in Social Anthro-
pology (CIESAS), in Guadalajara, and Visiting Professor at the Drug Policy
Program of the Center for Economic Research and Education (CIDE), in Aguas-
calientes, Mexico. She is also co-founder of the Nucleus for Interdisciplinary
xiii
xiv List of Contributors
Studies of Psychoactives (NEIP), and editor of NEIPs website (http://www.neip.

info). She is author, co-author, and co-editor of 13 books, one special-edition
journal, and several peer-reviewed articles. For more information, see: http://
bialabate.net/.
Thiago Rodrigues is Full Professor of International Relations at the Institute of
Strategic Studies of the Fluminense Federal University, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
He has a PhD in international relations from the Pontifical Catholic University of
S~ao Paulo, Brazil, with a research partnership at the Institut des Hautes Etudes de
lAmerique Latine of the Sorbonne University, Paris. He is a researcher and
member of the Nucleo de Sociabilidade Libertaria (Nu-Sol/PUC-SP) and associate
researcher of the Regional Coordinator of Economic and Social Research (CRIES),
Buenos Aires, Argentina. Rodrigues is one of the founders of the Nucleus for
Interdisciplinary Studies of Psychoactives (NEIP), Brazil. He has published the
books: Poltica e drogas nas Americas [Politics and Drugs in the Americas] (2004);
Guerra e Poltica nas Relacoes Internacionais [War and Politics in International
Relations] (2010) and Narcotr afico: Uma Guerra na Guerra [Drug Trafficking: A
War into a War] (2012), among other titles. His fields of interest are: drug
trafficking and security; Latin American security; non-state actors and global
security; and post-structuralist international relations (IR) theory.
Authors
Andres Antillano is professor and researcher at the Institute of Penal Sciences, at

the Universidad Central de Venezuela UCV. He is a social psychologist and
criminologist. He studied at Central University of Venezuela (UCV), and Barcelona
University (UB, Spain), and University of Middlesex (UK). His research focuses on
crime transformations and on the penal field. He has published several papers and
book chapters about security, drugs, and policing. For more than a decade Professor
Antillano has combined academia with public advocacy in the domain of police
reform; social violence, specifically engaged in arms control and disarmament
policy. He is a researcher engaged in the domain of human and social rights and
vulnerable populations.
Keymer A vila is a lawyer magna cum laude from the Central University of
Venezuela (UCV) and has a masters in criminology from the Barcelona University
(UB, Spain). He is a researcher at the Institute of Penal Sciences of the UCV, and
professor of criminology at the Andres Bello Catholic University. He is member of
the academic committee of the specialization in criminology and criminal sciences
of the UCV and collaborator of the Observatory of the Penal System and Human
Rights, UB. He has published in Captulo Criminologico; Espacio Abierto; Crtica
Penal y Poder, among others. The focus of his research is the penal system in its
dynamic dimension (security, mass media, criminal policy, police, criminal
List of Contributors xv
investigation, criminal law) and its static dimension (theories, ideologies, and
punitive rationalities).
Raul Alejandro Corda received a law degree from the University of Buenos Aires
(UBA) in 1998. He is now a teacher and researcher at the UBA. Since 1993, he has
worked in the national judiciary and has been a court secretary in the Federal
Criminal Jurisdiction since 2001. Corda is a member of Intercambios Asociacion
Civil, an NGO that works on drug policy issues (http://www.intercambios.org.ar/),
and the Colectivo de Estudios Drogas y Derecho (CEDD, http://drogasyderecho.
org) that includes researchers from the region. He has also written several articles
about drug policy. He also has worked for the program Legislation on Drugs in the
Americas from the Inter-American Drug Abuse Control Commission (CICAD) of
the Organization of the Americas State (OAS).
Amanda Feilding is the director of the Beckley Foundation, a UK-based think-tank
at the forefront of global drug policy reform. She studied comparative religions and
mysticism at Oxford, and later did extensive research into psychology, physiology,
and altered states of consciousness. When she founded the Beckley Foundation in
1998, drug policy was not informed by scientific evidence and her aim was to help
create that evidence in order to develop policies based on health, harm-reduction,
cost-effectiveness and human rights. Over the last 15 years, the Beckley has
organized a series of influential international drug policy seminars entitled Drugs
and Society: A Rational Perspective, mainly held at the House of Lords in London.
The Foundation has produced over 40 books, reports, and briefing papers, including
the influential Cannabis Policy: Moving Beyond Stalemate and the Beckley Public
Letter, a document signed by distinguished world-figures, including nine Presi-
dents. The Foundation also set up both the International Society for the Study of
Drug Policy (ISSDP) and the International Drug Policy Consortium (IDPC), now
both independent bodies. Amanda was invited by President Otto Perez Molina to set
up a Latin America chapter in Guatemala to advise the president and his govern-
ment on drug policy reform, including preparing a report on the regulation of coca,
cocaine, and its derivatives to open up the debate on this taboo issue.
Guillermo Garat has a degree in journalism from Universidad de la Republica in
Uruguay. He is a journalist who began his writing career in 1998. He has written for
several newspapers and magazines in Uruguay. He also contributed to publications
in other countries, such as Spain, Argentina, Germany, Norway, and Chile. He has
contributed to publications such as Le Monde Diplomatique, EFE News Agency,
and Deutsche Welle. In 2012, he published Marihuana y otras yerbas: prohibici on,
regulacion y uso de drogas en Uruguay [Marijuana and Other Herbs: Prohibition,
Regulation and Use of Drugs in Uruguay], a deconstruction of drug policies in
Uruguay and their effects on Uruguayan society.
Thomas Grisaffi is a Leverhulme Early Career Research Fellow at the Institute of
the Americas at University College London (UCL). Thomas is also a Research
Fellow at the Andean Information Network in Cochabamba. Before moving to UCL
Thomas was a postdoctoral fellow on the SSRC/Open Society Foundations Drugs,
xvi List of Contributors
Security and Democracy program. Prior to that he worked as an assistant professor

for 3 years in the Department of Anthropology at the London School of Economics.
He received his PhD in social anthropology from the University of Manchester in
2009. Thomass main research focus is the political ascent of the Chapare coca
growers union in Bolivia. His thematic interests include democracy, citizenship,
drug control policy, social movements, and community radio. Thomas is the author
of numerous academic articles and blogs. He is currently working on a book
manuscript with the working title Long Live Coca, Death To Yankees!.
Diana Esther Guzman is a JSD candidate at Stanford University and a professor at
National University (Colombia). She holds a JSM from Stanford University, as well
as an LLM, an advanced degree in Constitutional Law, and a JD from the National
University (Colombia). Her work focuses on the sociology of law and human rights,
historical and political sociology, and gender issues, with a focus on Latin America.
Her current research concentrates on the role of the law in transitional processes and
its capacity to achieve transformative effects, focusing on the Colombian land
restitution program. She was a senior researcher at the Center for the Study of
Law, Justice, and Society (Dejusticia) in Bogota, Colombia, and a lecturer at
Rosario University.
Ana Jacome is a licensed clinical and forensic psychologist, currently working on
her PhD research project: an ethnographic approach to drug addiction treatment in
Ecuador. Aside from her private practice as a clinical psychologist, and her
involvement with the legal system as a forensic psychology expert, Ana has
participated in several research projects related to drugs and drug policy in Ecuador.
The topics she has worked on include drug use and narratives in high school
teachers in Quito, private drug addiction rehabilitation clinics in Ecuador, and
democracy and the debate on drug policy, among others. As a consultant, Ana is
constantly involved in research and in workshops that deal with issues related to
human rights, mental health, violence, and, specifically, gender-based violence. Her
current research focuses on face-to-face interactions in addiction treatment.
Jahlani Niaah is an active member of the Rastafari community and holds an MA in
modern international studies from University of Leeds and the PhD in cultural
studies from the University of the West Indies. Currently he is located in the Office
of the Principal at Mona where he coordinates the Rastafari Studies Unit as well as
the recently established Center for Ganja/Cannabis Research at the University of
the West Indies. His research interests include indigenous knowledge systems;
African Diaspora praxes; Rastafari cosmology and cannabis and popular leader-
ship. Niaah has also been actively engaged with working on the issues of reparation
for African slavery and the phenomenon of Rastafari repatriation to Ethiopia. Niaah
has published book chapters and journal articles in leading publications in Asia,
Africa, Europe, and the Caribbean, and is the coeditor of the 2013 volume: Let us
start with Africa: Honouring Rastafari Scholarship.
Juan Fernandez Ochoa is Team Assistant at the International Drug Policy Con-
sortium. Before joining IDPC, he was Policy Officer at the Beckley Foundation,
List of Contributors xvii
where he carried out research and oversaw the development of two major reports on
drug policy and regulation. He holds a double masters degree in European studies
from the London School of Economics (LSE) and Sciences Po. His academic
interests focus on issues related to drug policy; in particular, the War on Drugs
and its consequences as social phenomena increasingly structuring international
relations. He previously coordinated the workgroup [Re]thinking Drug Policy
during his masters studies, and worked for the Independent Scientific Committee
on Drugs, now DrugScience, providing support in communications.
Aldo F. Ponce is an assistant professor in the Department of Political Studies at the
Center for Economic Research and Education (CIDE) in Aguascalientes, Mexico.
He earned his PhD in political science from the University of Houston. His research
focuses on legislatures and political parties. His work has appeared in Studies in
Comparative International Development, Latin American Politics and Society, the
Journal of Politics in Latin America, West European Politics, and other journals.
Diana Rossi is a social worker and specialist in youngsters social problems from
Buenos Aires University. Currently, she is professor and researcher of the Faculty
of Social Sciences at the University of Buenos Aires. She is also a member of the
board of directors and research coordinator of Intercambios Civil Association, an
Argentinean non-governmental organization that does research and prevention
concerning drug users and other people at high HIV risk. She collaborates with
other national and international organizations, governmental and non-governmental
agencies, and universities. She is currently a member of the editorial board of the
International Journal of Drug Policy. She is author of many papers, books, and
book chapters in national and international publications.
Benjamin T. Smith is an associate professor at the University of Warwick. He is a
historian of Mexican nineteenth- and twentieth-century grassroots politics and has
done most of his research in the archives, villages, churches, and markets of the
predominantly indigenous state of Oaxaca. His first book attempted to capture the
diversity of post-revolutionary politics and looked at regional bosses, female-led
social movements, violence, and agrarian reform from the 1920s through to the
1950s. His second project looked at landownership, priestparishioner relations,
religious rituals, and politics in the Mixteca Baja from the late colonial period to the
1960s. Beyond these broad research interests, he has also published articles on
indigenous and grassroots responses to indigenismo, indigenous militarism, the
PAN, taxation, state healthcare, local elections, and the drug trade. He is currently
working on two projects. The first, supported by the British Academy, looks at
politics, the press, and the reading public in Mexico from 1940 to 1980, and
examines national and local newspapers, internal PRI rags, corridos and occasional
flysheets. The second, in conjunction with Wil Pansters (University of Utrecht) and
Peter Watt (University of Sheffield), is supported by the Arts and Humanities
Research Council. It is a history of the drug trade in Mexico from the early
twentieth century to the present day.
xviii List of Contributors
Carla Alvarez Velasco has a masters in international relations and is a PhD

candidate in political studies at FLACSOEcuador. She is currently a professor
at the Institute of High National Studies and teaching in the areas of International
Relations Theory and Security Theory. Her specialties include issues of interna-
tional politics, foreign policy, and small arms trafficking, as well as the problems of
the Ecuadorian Northern Border and its relationship to international drug trafficking
and international development cooperation. Additionally, she has worked as a
research partner at the International Drug Policy Consortium of Canada (IDPC)
for the past 3 years, tracking the South American Council on the World Drug
Problem of UNASUR and the Ecuadorian drug policy.
Rodrigo Uprimny Yepes is a lawyer and holds a doctorate in political economy
from the University de Amiens Picar die, with a DSU (masters) in legal sociology
from the University of Paris II and a DEA (masters) in social economy of
development from the University of Paris I (IEDES). He is currently the director
of Dejusticia (Centro de Estudios de Derecho, Justicia y Sociedad), and professor of
the masters and PhD programs at the Universidad Nacional de Colombia. He has
an extensive bibliography, including books and articles about constitutional law,
transitional justice, human rights, and drug policy.
Veronica Zubillaga is a professor at the Universidad Simon Bolvar in Caracas.
Her publications include the books El nuevo malestar en la cultura, together with
Hugo Jose Suarez and Guy Bajoit (Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico;
Instituto de Investigaciones Sociales, 2013), and Violencia Armada y Acuerdos de
Convivencia en una Comunidad Caraque~ na, with Manuel Llorens, Gilda Nu~nez,
and John Souto (Editorial Equinoccio, 2015). Her research interests include: urban
violence in Latin America; youth gang violence in Caracas; masculinities and
qualitative methods. She has published in Current Sociology; Revista Mexicana
de Sociologa; and Nueva Sociedad, among others. In 2014 she was the Craig
M. Cogut Visiting Professor of Latin American and Caribbean Studies at Brown
University, and in 2012, a Fulbright Research Scholar.
Chapter 1
Introduction: Drugs and Politics
in the Americas: A Laboratory for Analysis
Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Clancy Cavnar, and Thiago Rodrigues
Prohibition: The Most Successful Failure
It has become a truism that drug prohibitionism is a failure. The 100-year history of
the repression against the production, trade, and consumption of a certain number of
psychoactive drugs has not reached its declared goals. Those drugs that preoccupied
and mobilized the pioneer prohibitionists at the dawn of the twentieth century are
today just a fraction of the great amount of illegal substances crossing transborder
routes and being used today. Since the initial national antidrug laws and the first
international treaties, the variety, quantity, and potency of available illegal drugs
has increased; the number of criminal organizations dedicated to this potent market
B.C. Labate (*)

Center for Research and Post Graduate Studies in Social Anthropology (CIESAS),
Guadalajara, Mexico
Center for Economic Research and Education (CIDE), Aguascalientes, Mexico
Nucleus for Interdisciplinary Studies of Psychoactives (NEIP), San Francisco, CA, USA
CIESAS Occidente, Ave. Espa~ na, 1359, Col. Moderna, Guadalajara, Jalisco 44190, Mexico
e-mail: blabate@bialabate.net
C. Cavnar
Healthright360 Dual Diagnosis Program, 815 Buena Vista W., San Francisco, CA 94117, USA
e-mail: clancycavnar@gmail.com
T. Rodrigues
Institute of Strategic Studies (INEST), Universidade Federal Fluminense, Rio de Janeiro,
Brazil
e-mail: trodrigues@id.uff.br
Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 1

B.C. Labate et al. (eds.), Drug Policies and the Politics of Drugs in the Americas,
DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_1
2 B.C. Labate et al.
has increased; and multiple levels of violence have spread worldwide from the
Andean heights to the streets and slums of the worlds most crowded metropolises.
Historically, the usual response to drug-trafficking intensification has simply
been adding gasoline to fire: the higher the number of drug users and drug dealers,
the higher the number of police force, antidrug agencies, military commandos,
prison facilities, and the harsher the criminal laws. The prohibitionist formula has
become the world model to deal with a set of psychoactive drugs and its producers,
traders, and consumers; a pattern that proved to be a bizarre type of diplomatic
consensus that put together interests and discourses of traditional opponents, such
as the United States and Iran.
Drug prohibition produced a giant field for multiple kinds of interventions
enforced through criminal and ethnical selectivity, government intrusions on public
and personal health, and control over selected social communities and countries. In
short, prohibitionism was established by a combination of impressive levels of
repression and a myriad of governmental policies dedicated to controlling general
standards of public health and individual patterns of life. Drug prohibition proved to
be a potent political strategy focused on governing the population as a collective
body as well as each single individuals behavior. In that sense, it is possible to
claim that drug prohibition was one of the latest chapters of what Foucault (2008,
p. 138) called biopolitics, understood as a set of governmental techniques aiming
to simultaneously discipline singular bodies and the broader regulation of the
conjunct of the population taken as a living collective body, or a species body.
According to Foucault, biopolitics emerged in Europe during the passage of the
eighteenth century to the nineteenth century, when the beginning of the Industrial
Revolution, associated with transformations in agricultural production and medical
techniques, provoked the growth and concentration of an expanded urban popula-
tion. For the sake of this new economic phase, the new capitalist economy urged the
control and training of the mass of impoverished and potentially rebellious people
to engage as disciplined and sufficiently healthy consumers and workers. Among all
investments in public and individual health, the attention to psychoactive drugs
waited until the beginning of the twentieth century to be included in the general set
of biopolitical tactics (Rodrigues and Labate 2015).
It did not take long for the first wave of sanitary and medical regulations to
generate the criminalization of the production, trade, and use of some psychoactive
drugs. This process occurred simultaneously in many American, European, and
Asian countries, constructed of the combination of international treaties and
national laws against the recreational use of drugs such as opium and its derivatives
(morphine and heroin), and later, during the 1920s and 1930s, cocaine and mari-
juana (Passetti 1991; McAllister 2000). The police/repressive model was integrated
with a subtler one pushed by the pharmaceutical industry, managed by the medical
caste and regulatedwith a mix of surveillance and repressionby a state
converted to what Szasz (1992) called a Therapeutic State.
The US role in the proliferation of the prohibitionist approach is unquestionable.
US diplomacy had been very active since exerting diplomatic pressures over
European countries during the 1910s, then influencing the construction of the
1 Introduction: Drugs and Politics in the Americas: A Laboratory for Analysis 3
international regime of drug control under the League of Nations, until the approval
of the UN Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs in 1961. Later, during President
Richard Nixons administration in 1969, the declaration of the so-called war on
drugs inaugurated a new pattern for drug prohibitionism based on the militariza-
tion of the fight against drug-trafficking organizations (Isacson 2005; Rodrigues
2015). This new pattern was the main factor that combined the public security
problemdomestically establishedwith an international dimension of the
problem related to the production and transit of illegal drugs.
Since then, the US security agenda on drugs has identified producer regions or
countries in the Global South (mainly in Latin America, the Caribbean, and Asia),
allowing Washington to wage a repressive strategy that changed internal rules
regarding the use of military force within US borders and altered limitations on
deploying military commandos into foreign countries (Marcy 2010). Nevertheless,
as Paley (2014, p. 39) reminds us, war on drugs is a misnomer [because] war is
defined as an armed conflict between at least two groups, and not between a group
and a substance. In fact, this war is not a traditional clash between armed forces
from different sovereign states, but a kind of conflict that mixes local and transter-
ritorial armed groups engaged in one of the most profitable businesses in the world
(Kopp 2006; Kan 2009; Paley 2014). This war is waged every single day. It occurs
in the narrow alleys of big city slums, in the fields of illegal crops and their poor
peasants, and in battles that police and army special forcesmostly trained and
funded by the USfight against both highly armed and rich cartels or
unprepared, poor, young, and dark-skinned urban outlaws.
Therefore, the one hundred year history of drug prohibition includes the 45 year
history of the War on Drugs with a widely known outcome. This history, however,
can not be seriously considered a proper failure if we take a glimpse at the other side
of the prohibition trajectory. Foucault (2007, 2008) claimed that the relations of
power were not merely repressive, but also productive, because they shape sub-
jectivities, build institutions, consolidate patterns of behavior, and establish or
subvert correlations of forces. In this sense, the never-ending failure of drug
prohibition is a huge success; of course, not in reaching its declared goals, but in
allowing a great number of opportunities to make money, to control territories, to
intervene on social dynamics, and to continually press foreign countries to arrest,
control, and kill people belonging to certain social, ethnic, or national groups. The
aim of eliminating the millenary practice of experiencing alternate states of con-
sciousness through the use of psychoactive drugs is a kind of desert mirage; a
conservative utopia, a nonexistent oasis sought by moralists or by people who
simply choose to ignore the impressive history that links drugs and societies all
around the world since the beginning of time.
Beyond the Same Old Repression?
Prohibition is a failure; nevertheless, it does move. It moved fast and fiercely in the
Americas, but not as a monolith. Each country in the continents has a particular
history regarding the movement toward the criminalization of drugs. This plural
and synchronic history has the flavor of many overlapping dynamics related to the
different societies that testify to increasing levels of violence. It is not possible to
tell a unified history of drug prohibition in the Americas, but we are able to identify
a common ground. It combines local prejudices toward select social or ethnic
groups (poor European and Asian immigrants, descendants of slaves from Africa,
Native American descendants, impoverished urban workers, etc.), the consolidation
of modern scientific patterns based on racial prejudice and devoted to the eugenic
reshaping of mestizo societies, the singular scenarios of social struggle, and various
degrees of internal conflict. Beyond all these elements are the connections between
multiple national security discourses and US geopolitical interests in the continent
that included the War on Drugs as part of its national and regional agenda.
The war on drugs is both a US security directive toward Latin America and the
Caribbean and a component of various governmentality practices developed in each
country in the continent. Not the single responsibility of a particular country, nor a
mere US imposition, drug prohibition has found local ground in each country of
Latin America and the Caribbean, following local prejudices, economic dynamics,
and political aims. This complex connection between national and international
vectors makes the history of drug prohibition in our continent a multilevel history in
constant movement. Prohibition itself is volatile, especially since the beginning of
the twenty-first century. The heightened levels of violence produced by the War on
Drugs, combined with the consolidation of stronger illegal organized groups,
boosted a new wave of criticism among civil society organizations, academic
experts, political authorities, and repressive officers.
This move produced novel forms of pressure on national and international
levels, followed by an amplified interest in the theme, sometimes animated by
unpredicted actors, such as the Latin American Commission on Drugs (later, The
Global Commission), which has among its founders former prohibitionist presi-
dents who claimed they had changed their previous positions. International foun-
dations, local NGOs, academic research reports, new legislation, and an intensified
legal debate in many countries: all of these exist side-by-side with the persistent
repressive approach toward producers, traffickers, and users, including support
from a group of countries for the death penalty for traffickers. It seems we are
passing through the most important moment since the consolidation of the first
national antidrug laws and international treaties in the beginning of the twentieth
century; but no single direction is clear. There are many options on the table: from
the state legalization of marijuana in Uruguay, to the liberal solutions found in some
US states also regarding marijuana, to the repressive measures in Bolivarian
Venezuela, or the militarized approaches in Mexico and Brazil that are facing
some resistance and igniting harsh debates among conservatives and progressives.
That is why analyzing the history of drug policy in the Americas is so challeng-
ing. It implies an attention to the conjunct of power relationships, economic
interests, and clashes between different political and moral values that make each
society a boiling cauldron with no guaranteed aftermath. It is only possible, then, to
choose a perspective, and by doing so, propose a partial analysis. In this sense, this
book records some of these partialities. As a collection of different perspectives,
with no patronized or unified theoretical or methodological approach, the book is an
invitation to think about and problematize both the history and the current events
related to the changing realities of drug policies in Latin America.
An Invitation to Analysis
The book you have now in your hands is, in a way, a continuation and an extension
of one that Beatriz Caiuby Labate and Thiago Rodrigues edited in Mexico, called
Drogas, Poltica y Sociedad en America Latina y el Caribe [Drugs, Politics and
Society in Latin America and the Caribbean] (CIDE 2015). In that book, we
gathered authors from more than 16 countries with the same invitation: summarize
the history of drug policies in their countries from the initial era until the present
day. Now, in this book, the general proposal is similar: an invitation for local
researchers to analyze the drug policy histories in their own countries. Both in the
previous book and in the present one, we started prospecting for researchers; it was
only possible to find a few recent examples of works in which experts from their
own countries could offer contributions to compose a broader picture of the drug
prohibition history in our region (see, for instance, Bagley and Walker III 1996;
Youngers and Rose 2005). In this collection, we decided to focus on the current
changes taking place in the region, and on the pioneering role of some Latin
American countries in changing paradigms of international drug policy. We stress
various contemporary experiences facing drug illegality in order to present a picture
of multiple and heterodox propositions that go from specific proposals for legali-
zation or decriminalization of personal use to the relationship between certain
levels of revamps and the maintenance of high degrees of repression.
To do so, we privileged a small but demonstrative number of countries, selected
for characteristics related to their modalities of historical commitment to the
international regime of drug control and their present situation regarding alternative
policies toward illegal drugs. The reader will find 12 chapters from different social
science disciplines containing analysis on Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia,
Ecuador, Guatemala, Jamaica, Mexico, Peru, Uruguay, and Venezuela. Besides
that, we have included a chapter on the United States of America in order to stress
the historical importance of this country on the construction of the international
prohibitionist regime, and also because of the significance of the current trans-
formations and adaptations in its drug policy through some noteworthy cases of
marijuana legalization.
We claim, as a general hypothesis for this book, that Latin America and the
Caribbean could be assumed to be a laboratory to study and to realize how different
levels of discourse and governmental practice interconnect to produce singular (but
connected) prohibition regimes. In our perceptionas claimed by Rodrigues and
Labate (2016)it is possible to draw a general framework for analysis regarding
drug policies in the Americas. This framework considers distinct analytical levels
that include societal, biopolitical, and international dimensions, showing how
traditional distinctions between domestic and external have been eroded without
eliminating the particularities of each security environment. This particular frame-
work could be compared to similar analytical efforts in other regions to see how
those different levels connect and work together in different contexts.
Nevertheless, nothing is certain or guaranteed in this movable and multiple
process. In the USthe homeland of prohibitiona move toward marijuana
legalization, both for medical and recreational purposes, exists side-by-side with
the maintenance of the illegality of a large number of psychoactive drugs, the
persistence of the securitization of drug-trafficking, and the largest incarcerated
population in the world (fed mostly by the enforcement of drug laws). In Mexico
and Guatemala, US-sponsored militarization produced decades of violence and
horror that nourish narcotrafficking organizations, increasing the already-high
level of human rights violations, and provoking various reactions that have been
pushing their governments on a different path toward new and less repressive
policies. In Brazil, the increment of drug production, consumption, and money
laundering since the 1990s has generated paradoxical reactions. On the one hand,
the emerging lobby of civil society organizations, progressive health professionals,
scholars, and experts promoted the incorporation of progressive approaches in
public health policies, such as harm reduction strategies. On the other hand, the
legislation became ambiguous, authorizing the imprisonment of thousands of small
dealers and users who were prosecuted as drug-traffickers. Besides that, the
questioning of the militarized approach in countries like Mexico has reversed in
Brazil, where the military have gained more power to surveil and to occupy poor
urban areas.
The left wave in South America also produced different outcomes in terms of
drug policies. In Venezuela and Ecuador, levels of repression against users and
dealers increased while international accusations of facilitation of trafficking
became louder. In Bolivia, the theatrical denouncing of the UN Single Convention
by Morales administration resulted in the acceptance of the coca leaf for traditional
use. However, the Morales motto yes for coca, no for cocaine (coca s, cocaina
no) reveals the recurrent prohibitionist approach, with serious consequences for
the current Bolivian position in the international cocaine illegal trade. In an
opposite direction, Uruguay, under Mujicas administration, passed a comprehen-
sive marijuana legalization bill that authorized therapeutic and recreational uses of
the herb under strict state control (in clear contrast to the liberalizing approach in
US states such as Washington and Colorado). On the other shore of the Plata River,
the Argentinian debate on drug decriminalization reached the Supreme Court,
stressing the contradictions between progressive trends and the traditional repres-
sive tactics.
Andean countries, such as Colombia and Peru, have kept militarized policies in
accordance with their alliances to US counter-drug strategy. It does not mean,
however, that drug policies are still the same as they were in the Fujimori era in
Peru during the 1990s, or the Uribe era in Colombia during the 2000s. Internal
conflicts, the rearrangement of drug organizations, and various political and social
pressures are active and living in these countries. Jamaica is another case of an
intense paradox, in which the prohibitionist and repressive tradition contrasts with a
highly rooted ganja culture. This situation points to possible paths for social normal-
ization and acceptance of marijuana production, regulation, and consumption.
Nevertheless, in none of these countries has drug prohibition, as a whole, been
faced or overcome. The patterns of repression, the various degrees of militarization,
and the traditional social and ethnic prejudices still represent the general standard
underlying drug policies in these countries. Something is moving in the world of
drug prohibition in the Americas, but this movement is ambivalent and complex,
with constant backlashes and variations through time; there is no indication of a
single or necessarily progressive teleological end.
The Americas: A Drug Lab for Analysis
Among the many marvelous peoples, things, animals, and mysteries that surprised
the first European conquerors that arrived in the Americas, there were many
wonderful plants and fungi. Known as master plants, teacher plants, or plants
of power, they had been used for thousands of years as sources of cure for the body
and spirit. As part of the core of native traditions and religions, they were fiercely
repressed by the Roman Catholic Church and reframed as the devils plants. The
conquering campaigns in continental America and in the Caribbean, despite the
magnitude of their ethnocide and genocide, could not suppress the knowledge and
the practices related to those living beings. The native cultures, practices, and
beliefs have survived, disguised in syncretic rites and new creative forms of social
and political resistance.
New plants came with the Europeans, Africans, and Asians. The old psychoac-
tive cultures mixed and were renewed from contact with alien plants and substances
such as marijuana and poppy. The social, racial, and ethnic prejudices against
Indians and African and Asian descendants included condemning their use of
those stigmatized substances; this formed the moral background upon which pro-
hibition was built. Drug policies in the Americas emerged engraved by prejudices
and discourses taken then as progressive, while associating moral elevation with
racial improvement. In this environment, the use of psychoactive drugs represented
a stage of degeneration of body and soul that must be combated. Thus, moral
distress was interwoven with the physical, intellectual, and social menaces
composing the founding argument for prohibition. This type of argument is still the
common belief that sustains drug prohibition.
The prohibition fortress, however, is under attack. Nowadays, it is broadly
accepted that the aim of drug prohibitiontotal abstinenceis unreachable
because psychoactive drugs are part of our cultural practice. Even prohibitionists
are changing their minds; not to support drug use, but after concluding that different
approaches are necessary to avoid the unbearable amount of violence generated by
drug illegality, alongside the acknowledgment of the failure of treatment models
based solely on abstinence. Nonetheless, the solutions or the alternatives are not
ready or settled. We do know the social, political, health, and cultural effects of the
one hundred years of international drug prohibition regime. Besides that, it is not
possible to predict what is going to happen in a post-prohibitionist world. There is a
need to define precisely what we think of this new world. Is global legalization
the only way out? What kind of legalization? A legalization controlled by the state
or regulated by the market? Or, conversely, a different kind of relationship between
producers and consumers that goes beyond the dominion of state or market? Many
antiprohibitionist activists maintain that the drug issue should be treated as a
matter of public health, not public safety or national security. However, is the health
care argument inherently progressive, or could it be easily combined with other
forms of prejudice and criminal selectivity that would protect middle-class users
and penalize poor people and ethnic minorities? In sum: Is there a single way to face
drug prohibition? Or are there many possible strategies related, simultaneously, to
unique circumstances in conversation with global transformations?
This book, of course, does not answer all these questions (and many others that
need to be addressed). However, the chapters recognize and represent this multi-
plicity of doubts, possible paths, dead ends, and, perhaps, surprising and unex-
pected lines of flight. We think that Latin America and the Caribbean, alongside the
current moves in the US, could provide rich material for reflection. Our continent is
a seething laboratory for traditional and innovative ways to produce forms, social
regulations, and uses of drugs. Our continent has also been a laboratory for drug
prohibition policies. Here they were developed and here we suffered their violent
effects. Nevertheless, the Americas remain as amazing and startling as they have
always been. Because of that, from our shores, forests, mountain heights, and,
especially, from our unpredictable peoples and their inventive practices, may
arise new and freer modes to deal with alternate states of mind.
References
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Chapter 2
Prohibition and the War on Drugs
in the Americas: An Analytical Approach
A War Beyond the War
In a message sent to Congress in 1971, the then US President, Richard Nixon,

declared that drugs were a problem which afflicts both the body and soul of
America (Nixon 1971). The conservative discourse of Nixon, elected in 1967,
identified illegal drugs as the enemy number one of America, advocating a
total war on them. At the time, Nixon had not only launched the expression that
has defined US drug policy since then but also updated an older discourse rooted in
a set of social and governmental practices that emerged in the late nineteenth
century and the beginning of the twentieth century and were known as
Prohibitionism.
The movement that took a considerable number of psychoactive substances from
deregulation to illegality was made possible by the combination of several factors,
including moralism, racism, and the emergence of new technologies to govern
individuals and populations. In a few decades a drug problem was identified,
resulting in criminal laws, an enormous increase in repressive state forces,
the development of an international system of drug control, and the paradoxical
emergence of a large illegal drug trafficking market of transnational and
global dimensions.
When Nixon declared war on drugs, the illegality of these threatening drugs
was little more than six decades old. In these years, the increased consumption of
T. Rodrigues (*)
Institute for Strategic Studies (INEST), Fluminense Federal University (UFF), Alameda Barros
Terra, s/n, Campus Valonguinho, 24210-141 Niter oi, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
B.C. Labate

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_2
12 T. Rodrigues and B.C. Labate
psychoactive drugs such as marijuana, heroin, and LSD was associated with the
protests of countercultural movements that made the use of drugs an important
element in a behavioral change that confronted the consumerism, militarism, and
moralism of the American way of life. The conservative turn represented by the
Nixon administration also began to fight altered states of consciousness.
However, it was not only in the United States that the drug problem took on
new dimensions. The prohibition of psychoactives had been the event that both
articulated domestic policies and the production of international standards from the
early twentieth century, and, in the Americas, brought together most countries in
the region to support the repression of the production, marketing, and use of drugs.
This movement did not follow a univocal agreement, but rather revealed that
American countries had their own dynamics that converged, each in its own way,
towards the increasingly stringent restriction of the market and the habit of con-
suming certain psychoactive drugs. This chapter presents an analysis of the process
of prohibition in the Americas, focusing on the US and certain Latin American
countries, especially Brazil and Mexico, the two largest economies in Latin Amer-
ica, and the countries in which the authors of this study have based their research.
We raise the hypothesis that there is a prohibitionist logic running through the
recent history of American countries that is linked to a two-level articulation
between domestic social and political practices and an international repressive
model, with the assumption that they were co-constituted (i.e., were produced in
constant dialogue with each other and with mutual influences). Prohibitionism is
thus not a unitary process, but an apparatus (dispositif) associated with an overall
set of tactics to govern populations that has been in place in the Americas for nearly
100 years. So, prohibitionism is more than the current militarized face of the War
on Drugs, and historically implies policies for public health and national and
domestic security, together with moral questions and judgments. This connection
was seen in different ways in the last three decades of the twentieth century and
now, at the beginning of twenty-first century, has been renewed, thereby giving new
dimensions to drug policy on the continent.
In order to follow this line of thinking, our analysis will develop each point with
examples linked to the United States, Mexico, and Brazil. Our goal is to provide an
analytical framework that may understand this war that goes beyond the milita-
rized war, and that is waged in order to direct individual behavior, regulate the
dynamics of life and death of the population, control regions of countries and cities,
strengthen self-censorship practices, and monitor the conduct of others, in addition
to strengthening forms of intervention of the US in the internal policies of other
countries; a war that is continued in drug policy, national and international public
security, and that is renewed and updated upon minds and bodies.
The focus of a considerable number of the studies on drug trafficking is often
either journalistic or historical. Others take positions against the use of psycho-
active drugs or, on the other hand, support their legalization. In our assessment,
however, there is a shortage of proposals that link the historical perspective to a
broader analysis. This kind of proposal, following Foucault, would aim at
problematizing the prohibition of psychoactive drugs and the war launched
2 Prohibition and the War on Drugs in the Americas: An Analytical Approach 13
against them, or, in other words, trying to understand how certain practices become
or are produced as a problem. Thus, the historical and political perspective
indicated by Foucault that guides us shows how discourses and truths about
things are produced from different positions and interests and different political,
social, and moral views. Drugs, therefore, are not a problem in themselves, but a
historically constructed problem that has local manifestations that need to be
narrated and analyzed. This analytical framework is thus intended as a tool for
researchers from various American countries to understand their own realities and
the local effects of prohibitionism. As a complement, it is expected that the study of
these realities modifies the elements in the framework and improves and extends
their analytical power.
An Analytical Proposal
Prohibitionism is the general term given to the inclusion in health and criminal
laws of certain categories of psychoactive drugs (substances that cause alterations
in the central nervous system in order to excite, depress or cause hallucinations) in
order to regulate their uses and, ultimately, ban them completely (Escohotado 1996;
Provine 2007). This legal standard has become universal after a trajectory that
began in 1910 and was supported by the UN treaties from the 1960s (McAllister
2000). Undoubtedly, the internationalization of prohibitionism owes much to the
diplomatic initiative of the US, but it was not merely the imposition of the US (see
also Labate and Rodrigues 2015a, b). Similarly, drug prohibition was not a simple
diplomatic-military partnership, produced in offices, headquarters, and foreign
ministries, but was formed in response to different sources that are not limited to
states and their security apparatuses.
It is therefore possible to work with the hypothesis that the movement to ban
certain psychoactive drugs was part of the consolidation of what Foucault (2008a,
b) called the biopolitics of the populations. In Foucaults view, the late eighteenth
century Europe saw the emergence of new governmental tactics no longer exclu-
sively interested in permanent control of the territory and the discontinuous govern-
ment and non-systematic control of the population that inhabited it, as had
happened two centuries earlier, when the modern state came about (Foucault 2009).
In the century of Enlightenment, a new governmentality emerged, understood as
a set of governance practices that mobilize state policies, aiming at two goals: to
govern all, and also control each individual. On the one hand, it acted on the
individuals, taking the body as a machine to be trained, educated, and shaped
so that the greatest amount of productive work could be extracted from it, while its
ability to resist and rebel would be diminished. This was the field of disciplinary
technologies applied to bodies in institutions such as hospitals, schools, prisons,
factories, mental institutions, and barracks (Foucault 1995, 2008a). On the other
hand, it acted on all the subjects, understood as a species body, a population with
the dynamics of propagation, births and mortality, the level of health, life
expectancy and longevity, with all the conditions that can cause these to vary
(Foucault 2008a, p. 139). Specific policies would be directed to this population to
regulate health or general living conditions in order improve them. The combina-
tion of the subjugation of bodies and the control of the population opened,
according to Foucault, an era of biopower (2008a, p. 140), i.e., the formulation of
government policies aimed at offering an additional element in life (bios) through
urban, sanitary, and disciplinary interventions, and the formulation of social med-
icine policies.
Thus, in the transition to the nineteenth century, European industrial societies,
and, soon after, those in North America, started to deal with the problem of how to
govern increasingly large populations, whose increase was both the product of
technological advances and the necessary condition for reproduction of the capi-
talist economy. Diseases, and high birth, mortality, and morbidity rates were
concentrated in these populations, but they were also fertile ground for the prolifer-
ation of subversive political ideas. Thus, the challenge for governments to produce
healthy bodies, which were useful and docile (Foucault 2008a, p. 141), while
controlling their oppositional political potential, led to the production of a bio-
politics in which methods of power and knowledge assumed responsibility for life
processes and undertook to control and modify them (Foucault 2008a, p. 142).
Part of the consolidation of biopolitics centered on the elaboration of health
policies aimed at the population through what Foucault called social medicine
(Foucault 2000). He believed, the body is a biopolitical reality; medicine is a
biopolitical strategy (2000, p. 137), and the Europe of the nineteenth century saw
three major models of social medicine emerge: the German model, based on the
Prussian model of state medicine; the French, directed towards the investment in
the medicalization of urban space; and the British, directed to the care of the poor,
combining private welfare with social control. Common to the three types was the
fact that medicine was now seen as a key tactic to govern peoples and should
therefore be regulated and controlled by the state. In his classic work, George Rosen
(1994) analyzed the formation and nationalization of contemporary medicine from
the nineteenth century, and the scientific and political legitimation process, as the
overlap between the struggle to distinguish the scientific field of medicine from
other areas of knowledge and the attempt to establish the political government of
the populations, constituting what Foucault called a Therapeutic State.
Thus, managing the overall levels of health and life of the population made
medicine and the regulation of therapeutic practices a main focus of biopolitics.
In this process, regulating what individuals could or could not ingest, either for
treatment or to reduce suffering, became a monopoly of the medical profession,
sanctioned and controlled by the state. The question of the therapeutic value of a
drug thus emerged as a key element of the legitimacy as to whether or not it was a
medicine. At this point, a debate started on psychoactive drugs, which takes on the
tactics of biopolitics not only because it involved the problem of medical power to
issue prescriptions and the state to control the overall health of the population, but
also because it was marked by the action of forces which fall short of and are
beyond the scientific debate: the moral and political questions linked to the
governing of specific social groups.
For Foucault, governmental practices are not only public policies, prepared in
state offices and imposed from above to below, that is, descending vectors of the
exercise of power. On the contrary, by stating that the state was governmentalized,
Foucault (2009) also indicated that the government response and tactics are also
shaped by upward vectors, i.e., practices of power and political interests that
simmer over in the social body, expressing points of view, values, and projects
for society that, depending on their power (political, economic, symbolic), can
overcome other views, making their discourses seem to be the truth. These dis-
courses and practices thus colonize the state apparatus, influencing the elaboration
of laws and the definition of government policies for individuals and populations.
It is in this analytical field that we develop our perspective on the study of
prohibitionism; understood as one of the tactics of biopolitics that emerged in the
Americas at the end of the late nineteenth century and in the early twentieth
century. In American countries at this historical moment, there was a rapid process
of economic modernization and trade integration, marked by the mass arrival of
immigrants of European origin and the internal displacements of peasants, resulting
in the growth of the cities and the first American metropolises: New York, Rio de
Janeiro, Buenos Aires, S~ao Paulo, and Mexico City. The populations of these cities
thus emerged as a problem to be managed by the states, initiating local versions
of the biopolitics of European origin.
Thus, from a political perspective, the analysis of prohibitionism should include
social, political, medical and hygiene, security, and diplomatic and military ele-
ments. To have an understanding of how prohibitionism came about, one needs to
be aware of how governmental practices emerged in the clash between different
moral positions, individual and collective health models, and understandings of
national, international, and public security. In this sense, we propose that an
analytical framework of prohibitionism consist of the following levels: (1) the
level of moral and social practices; (2) the level of public health; (3) the public
security level; (4) the national security level; and (5) the international security level.
Our proposal is that the detailed study of these levels can provide an overview of
how prohibitionism was formed and is updated in various American societies. It is
important, however, to make it clear that each level has its own characteristics in
each society and different weights when taken as a whole. These weights can also
vary according to the historical moment, the configuration of the domestic power
relations, the participation of a country in the dynamics of illegal drug trafficking,
and how it is affected by internationally practiced repressive measures. Thus, we do
not present a rigid model, but rather, a flexible analytical framework that can be
used, modified, and expanded by those interested in understanding how
prohibitionism, as a universal guideline, has various tones and natural and local
characteristics which roots it in problems which are specific to each society. It is
expected that this framework, with its historical and political basis, can provide
analyses not only on the past of the varied national and international forms of
prohibitionism, but can also be applied to understand the current changes that
indicate a slowdown in the criminalization of drugs such as marijuana, but that

maintain the repressive logic for a number of illegal older or newly created
psychoactive drugs that continue to feed the illicit drug trafficking market.
The Moral, Social Practice and Public Health Levels:

Racism, Xenophobia and Interventions in Bodies
The British author Mike Jay states in a recent book, every society on Earth is a
high society (2012, p. 9). This ironic statement reminds us of historical, archaeo-
logical, and anthropological studies that say that virtually all human societies, since
time immemorial, have had some relationship with psychoactive drugs. In every
time and place, various ways to develop the use of psychoactives have been
developed, making their use and disapproval historically part of the relationship
between people and drugs (Escohotado 1996; see also Labate and Cavnar 2014;
Labate et al. 2008).
In the nineteenth century, the rapid development of research in the chemical
industry led to the development of many new substances, some of them with
psychoactive properties. The synthesis of morphine (1805), cocaine (1855), and
heroin (1874), for instance, increased the variety of drugs prescribed by doctors or
easily purchased, not only for therapeutic purposes but also leisure. Along with
them, the use of beverages with high alcohol content (such as absinthe) and age-old
drugs such as hashish and opium spread among intellectual and artistic groups in
Europe, Asia, and the Americas. Together with the spread in the consumption of
psychoactive substances, the ever-growing continental movements of migrants
highlighted the association between social prejudices, xenophobic reactions, and
the moral repudiation of psychoactive substances.
This association is very clear in the United States, where, in the last decades of
the nineteenth century, associations dedicated to campaigns against the production,
sale, and consumption of alcohol grew and spread: the Prohibition Party, founded in
1869, the Womans Christian Temperance Union, 1873, and the Anti-Saloon
League, 1893, came from Puritan groups and Protestant churches which extended
throughout the US. The growing influence and political weight of the anti-alcohol
campaign, which began to place representatives in state legislatures, state govern-
ments and the federal chambers, was accompanied by emerging movements against
other psychoactive drugs and their users.
The Puritan militancy against alcohol occurred with the rise of xenophobia and
racism against immigrants and ethnic minorities. The link of some of these groups
to specific drugs increased already existing prejudice and persecution. Hispanics
were linked to marijuana, the Chinese to opium, Blacks to cocaine, and the Irish and
Italians to alcohol (Passetti 1991; Szasz 1992). These minority social groups
provoked fear and loathing in part of the mostly White and Protestant American
society. They brought with them exotic habits, in addition to threatening White
jobs, and established ghettos where they created solidarity networks that existed on
the thin line between legality and crime. When the drug element was added to this
combination of hatred and prejudice, these groups also became more threatening
(Robey 2000). The perception spread that foreigners or minorities would bring bad
habits, both from a moral point of view and that of individual and collective
physical health.
Prohibitionist movements celebrated their great victory in 1919, with the
approval of the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution, the Volstead Act,
popularly known as Prohibition. This reform broke with American constitutional
tradition that guaranteed individual autonomy to the governments own bodies to
prohibit all production, marketing, consumption, import, and export of alcohol in
the US. The Volstead Act can be considered the paradigm of prohibitionism
because it was the first law to attempt to totally ban the economic circuit and habits
related to a psychoactive drug (Escohotado 1996).
Prior to the adoption of Prohibition, other laws increased the limited control over
other psychoactive drugs in the United States. In 1906, the Food and Drug Act
required, for the first time, that food and drug manufacturers label the content and
levels of ingredients in their products. The law, still with no connotation of any
possible criminalization, was the first to allow state surveillance over the production
and quality of drugs; a measure that was refined from the perspective of biopolitics
and a concern for the general levels of individual health. The justification of public
health was also essential for the Harrison Narcotics Tax Act to be approved in 1914,
ushering in prohibitionist measures in the US. The text of the law introduced two
criminal figures: the addict and the drug dealer; the first, a sick person to be treated;
and the second, a criminal to be fought.
The Harrison Act incorporated important decisions at The Hague Conference,
Netherlands, held in 1912, with a marked US diplomatic presence. This was the first
major meeting to define international psychoactive substance control standards
(McAllister 2000). One of the main decisions of the conference was to establish
as a criterion for the legality or otherwise of a psychoactive drug whether or not it
had any medical application. This criterion required the criminalization of any use
outside the medical scope, specifically stating a concern with abuse and dam-
age to the individual and collective health and implicitly revealing moral judg-
ments that condemned any recreational or pleasurable use associated with a drug.
The criterion of medical use also limited the power of the medical class: though,
on the one hand, it gained a monopoly to perform therapeutic practices, on the other
hand, it could only prescribe drugs approved by the state and at the legal amounts
and dosages. The criterion of medical purposes was thus be rooted in international
treaties and national prohibitionist laws from the 1910s to the present, stating that
all non-medical use of drugs [must be considered] pathological in nature
(McAllister 2000, p. 17).
At that time, when prohibitionist laws were crystallized, the protection of public
health was the most visible discourse. Though xenophobic and racist practices
associated with social prejudices operated at a less open and unofficial level,
concern for the individual and collective health could be openly expressed as a
biopolitical tactic aimed at improving the lives of each and every one. As a result,
the moralistic origins clearly evident in the anti-alcohol movement and the racist
and xenophobic connotations disseminated in various social practices were coupled
onto or absorbed into state policies directed towards public health, all with positive
connotations and beneficial effects (in terms of levels of health) that these
biopolitical tactics generated in cities, the home, and the workplace.
The link between moral and public health levels can also be seen in other
countries in the Americas. We now open out to the rest of the Americas and
comment on the cases of Brazil and Mexico. In Brazil, the use of psychoactives
such as heroin and cocaine was, in the early twentieth century, restricted to
sophisticated circuits in clubs or fumeries frequented by the economic and intel-
lectual elite who copied European habits. The use of so-called elegant poisons
began to be reprimanded socially when it spread to prostitutes, pimps, and madams
who attended this consumer elite. Newspaper articles about young prostitutes,
many of them poor European immigrants who had descended into in vice and
lust, proliferated. Groups of Catholic women and conservative associations such as
the Southern Cross Masonic Lodge promoted public campaigns to push for the
approval of more restrictive drug laws (Carneiro 2002; Rodrigues and Labate, in
this volume).
At the same time, the growth of cities in Brazil led to the rapid development of
social medicine focused on urban health, with special attention directed to slums,
favelas, and degraded regions of the former colonial areas of cities like Rio de
Janeiro. The growing moral revulsion towards drugs was thus combined with the
beginning of health policies aimed at disciplining the new urban spaces. At the
time, the concepts of forensic anthropology of the Italian, Cesare Lombroso
(18351909), were widely accepted in medicine, law, and the policing system in
Brazil. The police of Rio de Janeiro took on the functions of the policing of habits
in order to regulate individual behavior, combining repression with education that
included the condemnation of drug use and the stigmatization of users as sick and
morally degraded (Da Silva 2010). A Brazilian version of social medicine was thus
structured, based on principles of eugenics and racist medicine from Europe,
recombined with the already rooted racist and national moral practices, and
transformed by the positivist belief in rational and scientific advancement towards
a bright future free from vice.
As for marijuana, social rejection was rather older, going back to the uses that
Blacks and indigenous people had made of it since colonial times. Rio de Janeiro
was, for example, the first city in the Americas to prohibit the use of marijuana. A
1830 law prohibited the use of the herb in an effort to repress Black groups, slaves
and former slaves, who circled the city, challenging public authorities and provok-
ing fear in the White minority (Rodrigues 2014). When the rural exodus took
thousands of Brazilians to the new industrial centers, habits like smoking marijuana
accompanied them, increasing the stigma that already weighed on these dark-
skinned, impoverished migrant populations.
In this context, in 1921, the first comprehensive and restrictive Brazilian drug
law was passed. It still did not effectively prohibit the sale and consumption of
psychoactives such as opiates (heroin, morphine) and cocaine, but established

control based on the same medical use principle similar to that of the Harrison
Act and The Hague 1912 Conference, at which Brazil was also present. Prohibition
and criminalization would come during the 1920s and 1930s, following the logic of
the international drug control regime established at the League of Nations and
directed by the US (McAllister 2000; Rodrigues and Labate, in this volume).
In Mexico, it is also possible to identify the influence of elements present in the
Brazilian and US cases. The first law against marijuana was approved in Mexico
City in 1869, in a context of great moral disapproval of a practice considered
archaic, as it was linked to indigenous peoples, as well as degrading to the
body and soul (Campos 2010). In Mexico in the nineteenth century, control of
sanitary conditions was understood as a precondition for the nation to come out of a
state considered retrograde and move forward, in the spirit of the age, towards a
glorious future. Thus, regulation of flows of people and the general situation of
sanitation and public health was accepted as a national security issue and, in 1908,
were incorporated into the sanitary codes and the countrys constitution (Ojeda
1974; for a discussion of the Mexican context, see also Labate and Rodrigues
2015b).
It was, however, the 1917 Constitution, produced in the context of the Mexican
Revolution, that established what Arechiga Cordoba (2005) called the health
dictatorship. Jose Mara Rodrguez, member of congress, doctor, and soldier,
defended the creation of a separate agency in the federal government to centrally
control the issue of public health. Even members of congress who defended the
autonomy of individual states did not object to such a concentration of power in the
federal government, revealing a high degree of agreement around solutions to
health problems in order for Mexico to follow the path of countries considered
civilized (Campos 2010). The constitutional provision that established the
Department of Public Health (Departamento de Salubridad) was the same in
which the central government was given the responsibility to control the movement
of people both inside the country and those leaving Mexico, as well as the
regulation of foreigners.
The connection between these issues in the same constitutional article indicates
both a biopolitical attention to the management of health and population flows and a
racist and xenophobic concern for specific populations both inside and from outside
Mexico. According to Botton Beja (2008), the racist theories of Lombroso and the
Frenchman Benedict Morel (18091873), who wished to overcome what they saw
as backwardness and archaic, were widely read in Mexico, especially among
liberal elites in the context of the Mexican Revolution. A major concern of theirs
was the so-called degeneration of the race, that is, the belief that an ethnically
mixed society, like that of Mexico, produced mestizo people of lower intellectual
and moral caliber. The argument spread that this degeneration could be aggra-
vated by the use of psychoactive drugs such as marijuana and alcohol, causing
physical and moral deficiencies that would be passed on to offspring (Campos
2010; see also Smith, in this volume).
The ethnic and social groups most targeted by this discourse were those of
indigenous descent, Blacks, and more recent immigrants such as the Chinese,
who went to Mexico to work in agriculture, mines, and the construction of railroads,
concentrating in the northern region near the border with California, another major
destination for immigrants from the Far East (Bergen-Cico 2012). The use of
psychoactives was thus seen as a sign of moral and physical depravity and of
non-White ethnic groups; indigenous groups and mestizos were associated with
cannabis use and power plants (such as the peyote cactus); Blacks and brown-
skinned people with cannabis; and Chinese with opium. In this context, in 1920, the
first restrictive law on the use of psychoactives in Mexico, with the suggestive title,
Provision on the Cultivation and Trading of Products that Degenerate the Race,
was passed. It was not yet a law that completely criminalized the production and use
of certain psychoactives, but rather established the parameters of medical use, as
decided in The Hague. Interestingly, in Mexico, alcohol was not included because
the federal government did not intend to give up the revenue derived from alcohol
taxes. However, drugs linked to Blacks, Indians, and Chinese were included in the
law. Immigrants of Chinese origin were also harassed in Mexico, as in the US, with
serious cases of aggression and deprivation, culminating in the 1920s laws that
prohibited the arrival of more Chinese and expelled many who lived there (Botton
Beja 2008).
The selectivity in the inclusion of controlled drugs reveals how prohibitionism
began to be shaped by joining sanitation arguments and moral principles that
specifically focused on certain groups and psychoactives. The belief in the purifi-
cation of the race, explicit in Mexico, but also visible in Brazil, influenced state
policies aimed at controlling the population, offering better living conditions, and
the general normalization of society that resulted in an American version of the
political process that Foucault (2003) described as State racism: the incorporation
of elements of previous racism practices into the biopolitical tactics in order to
permanently purify the social body, ridding it of social groups perceived as
threatening through their habits, origins or race. Only then, according to Foucault
(2003), could societies, guided by the biopolitical principle of giving a surplus of
life to each person, accept that some were selected, isolated, or even eliminated in
the name of the general health of the race or nation.
The levels of morality/social practice and public health are therefore related,
making up the vectors of governmentality that colonized the state and which
previously circulated as beliefs and values. Prohibitionism emerged in countries
like the US, Mexico, and Brazil in upward movements from society to the state,
which called for care with the race and physical and moral progress, and
downward from the state to society, in the form of biopolitical tactics that passed
through the development of social medicine policies, immigrant control, surveil-
lance of ethnic minorities, and the reorganization of urban centers. In the history of
drug prohibition, concern about health, racism, and xenophobia were thus born as
siblings.
The Levels of Public, National and International Security
Prohibition in the US was not only a paradigm of prohibitionism in terms of its aims
but also by the effects it caused. The official goal of suppressing the habit of
drinking alcohol, and the market for it, was not reached. Habits of consumption
and production patterns continued illegally, resulting in the criminalization of a
whole range of economic activities and social practices, the strengthening of
mafias, an increase in violence, the growth of the repressive state apparatus, and
the persecution of new categories of criminals. Prohibition was repealed in 1933,
and other American countries did not copy the prohibition of alcohol, nor has it
entered international treaties. Nevertheless, its logic has survived its repeal, and
policies of the criminalization of producers, traders, and users of a number of other
psychoactives continued after the 1930s.
Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, the United States maintained prohibitionist
diplomatic activism, participating in meetings of the Opium Advisory Committee
of the League of Nations, although the US was not a full member of the organi-
zation (McAllister 2000). The meetings held by the committee promoted the inter-
national adoption of the US prohibitionist standard, which, in the US, had been
established with the creation of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics in 1930, led by the
key figure of repression, Commissioner Harry Anslinger. In the domestic sphere,
the initial control of the Harrison Act was increased with the effective prohibition of
drugs like cocaine, heroin, and marijuana; while other drugs, such as morphine, and
new synthetic drugs, like amphetamines, continued to be legal, controlled under the
criterion of medical use in the regime of the Therapeutic State (Escohotado 1996;
Bergen-Cico 2012).
In countries like Brazil and Mexico, the superimposition of the medical-sanitary
control system on that of prohibition took place in the same period (Garcia et al.
2008). In Brazil, The prohibition of market practices and the cocaine and opiate
market were consolidated with the 1938 Criminal Code, approved by the dictator-
ship of Getulio Vargas (19301945). Prior to this, Brazil had attended the meetings
of the League of Nations, such as that of the Geneva Convention of 1931, and had
already started the process of sanitary regulation, as mentioned in the previous
section (see also Rodrigues and Labate, in this volume). Mexico also regularly
attended international conventions between the wars and rapidly adjusted its racist,
repressive, and conservative local vectors to these international dynamics. The
Penal Code of 1931the same year as the Geneva Conventionexplicitly men-
tions in its Seventh Paragraph, entitled Crimes against Health, that opium and
other ennerving drugs should be banned, and their production, sale, and con-
sumption repressed (Criminal Code of the United States of Mexico 1931,
pp. 4142). Interestingly, the only specifically named drug was opium, indicating
the centrality of the question of the use of psychoactives and their link to Chinese
immigrants (Campos 2010).
The effective prohibition of psychoactives was therefore a step forward for the
medical and sanitary control, which was established both by international treaties
and domestic legislations between 1910 and 1920. The prohibitionist utopia, part of
American Prohibition and the other bans that followed in the US and elsewhere,
was to forever eradicate the habit of becoming inebriated with psychoactive drugs.
However, the historical relationship between psychoactive drugs, individual habits,
and social practices follows multiple desires, wishes, and goals that are not simply
eliminated with the enactment of certain criminal laws. Thus, the immediate effect
of prohibitionism was not to pave the way for the arrival of its utopia, but rather the
emergence of new criminals to be fought by the state. In a word, the criminalization
of drugs created drug trafficking, the dealer, and the user as criminal categories and
a public security problem.
Recalling Foucault (2003) on the incessant production of enemies as a practice
inherent to politics, we can see criminal law as one of the most important legal and
political instruments to enable a continuous internal war between the state, repre-
senting the morally correct and healthy society, and different social groups
considered dangerous or threatening to a given political, economic, and social order.
In this sense, the fight against producers, prohibited drug dealers, and users did not
invent the selective war waged by the state on behalf of domestic peace and
security, but rather exacerbated this fight because it became possible to control,
imprison and, ultimately, to physically remove people who were already the
prime targets of social control policies linked to biopolitics: Blacks, Indians,
immigrants, petty criminals, prostitutes, beggars, etc.
The third level of the analysis of prohibitionism, public security, explicitly as
an actual declaration of war, made by means of criminal law, was added to the
permanent fight within society to maintain a certain form of the state and specific
arrangements within society in peacetime under the seal of legal normality. Thus,
before becoming an international and geopolitical phenomenon, as we shall see, the
most basic war on drugs is that which Prohibitionism activated in the day-to-day
fight against crime at the level of public security in the 1930s.
The US World War II mobilization, however, temporarily redirected the prohi-
bitionist impetus by the change in various factors. As pointed out by Suzanna Reiss
(2014), during the war, the production of psychoactives such as opiates became a
national security issue, as it provided raw material for powerful and indispensable
painkillers. Mexican opium, combatted against in previous decades, was now
suddenly appreciated and valued, with US government procurements that boosted
local production. After the war, the same production that had been of interest in the
US was again seen as a security and health problem to be fought against (Saviano
2014; A lvarez G
omez et al. 2011).
McAllister (2000) also comments on the paralysis of the international drug
control regime that understandably followed the freezing of the diplomatic activ-
ities of the League of Nations. In the 1950s, however, the system was reactivated
with a view to drawing up a broad treaty to bring together and standardize all other
countries. The United Nations inherited the bureaucratic structure and many of the
principles and rules of the League, including the prohibitionist regime. Discussions
on how to unify the treaties lasted almost a decade, reflecting the lack of consensus
of experts (doctors, chemists, pharmacists, psychiatrists, and others) on how to

define which and to what degree psychoactives should be banned.
The result was the 1961 UN Single Convention, which established the major
global legal framework on psychoactive drugs that has been in force until the
present (McAllister 2000; McAllister 2012). This framework sets out four lists
that separate the drugs according to the former criterion, used since The Hague
1912: those for medical use; the psychoactives considered to have certain med-
ical uses were considered legal, but were controlled (such as morphine and certain
amphetamines); those not considered to have any therapeutic application (such as
marijuana and cocaine) were once again banned. With this treaty, the prohibitionist
model effectively became universal, combining the public health and public
security standards. The adoption of the Single Convention wrought a curious
symbiosis between the legal systems of countries that had already adopted prohi-
bitionist directives and the new international norms; a mutual strategy between
national interests influencing the formulation of the treatyhighlighting the US
leadershipand the national interests of social control that were increased by
adherence to the treaty, as in the Mexican and Brazilian cases.
It is interesting to note, however, that the improvement of national prohibitionist
laws and international treaties coincided with the increase in drug production,
consumption, and international trafficking. This growth in the US was directly
related to the cultural questioning mentioned in the introduction to this chapter.
The relationship between the invention of alternative lifestyles and the use of
psychoactives resulted in a resurgence of the longstanding association between
social groups perceived as dangerous and social practices seen as immoral. The
movement in the US during this period, which led to the declaration of the War on
Drugs by President Richard Nixon in 1971, showed how the boundaries between
these proposed analytical levels are very tenuous (and ultimately presented for
didactic purposes), as prohibitionism works by the combination of elements from
each of the analytical levels.
Thus, when Nixon declared drugs were enemies of the US, a powerful
discourse was produced that divided the world into two arbitrary categories of
countries: producers and consumers. This discourse suggested that foreign groups
introduced poisons of body and soul to corrupt US society. Nixon thus reinforced
stereotypes present from the origins of Prohibitionism, such as prejudice against
immigrants, the assessment that psychoactives necessarily corrupt moral and phys-
ical health, and that their marketing and use caused public security problems,
such as gang violence and anti-social behavior. In addition, the externalization of
the sources of psychoactives placed the US in the position of the victim of an
external aggression, although it was not a traditional threat (another state), and
mobilized an image of national security that could justify defensive measures by
the state apparatus. This watertight separation of countries into two categories was
never fully valid, even in the early 1970s, and certainly even less with the spread of
the illegal psychoactive market in the 1980s, as it assumes that there are countries
that only produce and others that only consume (Passetti 1991). Today, the pro-
duction of illegal drugs and trafficking is more complex because there is
considerable consumption in countries previously considered only as trafficking-

corridor countries (such as Brazil), and there also the production of drugs in
countries seen in the official US discourse as consumers, such as the US itself.
Following the theoretical and methodological ideas of Buzan et al. (1998), one
could say that, in the national security plan, Nixons statement promoted the
securitization of illegal drugs. For these authors, a theme is securitized when,
through a speech act, a public issue discussed within the institutional political
procedures is considered an existential threat to the state or society (Buzan
et al. 1998, p. 24). If this statement finds an audience that validates and accepts it,
the legal system may be suspended or changed in order to prepare the state to
address such a danger by using all possible means.
Drug prohibition, especially from the time of its explicit criminalization, set in
motion repressive machinery in an environment where the logic of security aimed
at protecting public health and the morality of society already predominated. When
the ban produced new criminals, the logic of public security was added to these two
criteria of moral security and public health. Thus, the identification of a threat to
moral integrity, health, and public order historically preceded the production of a
securitizing discourse focused on national security. So, we could say that there was
securitization of drugs accompanying each of the analytical levels proposed here,
until Nixons speech act opened up a new dimension: that of national security
projecting features of international security.
Although the first military mobilizations and joint operations with other coun-
tries, such as Operation Intercept with Mexico in 1969, took place at that historic
moment, the securitization process at the national and international levels only
became effective during the Ronald Reagan presidency (19811989). Among the
many government actions of the Reagan years to channel the War on Drugs towards
a new phase was the process of the militarization of the fight against drug traffick-
ing. One of the main instruments of this militarization was the National Security
Decision Directive 221 (NSDD-221), signed by President Reagan in 1986 (Isacson
2005).
The brief document, entitled Drugs and National Security, stated that a new
threat was emerging in Latin Americanarcoterrorismunderstood as the asso-
ciation between leftist guerrillas and drug traffickers. For Reagan, this combination
undermined the stability of states in the region, especially in the Andes, and was
therefore a security problem for the US. At the same time, Reagan saw the arrival of
illegal psychoactive drugs as the renovation of the old threat to the physical and
mental health of young Americans (A lvarez Gomez 2011; Labrousse 1996). Rea-
gan ordered the State and Defense Departments to act together to support Latin
American countries in the fight against drug trafficking groups and those classified
as narcoguerrillas. This fight should be mainly through the support (financial,
technical, and training) of the armed forces of the so-called producer countries
(Marcy 2010). Interestingly, the communist threat was associated with the drug-
trafficking danger in this decade of the transition from the classic threat of the Cold
War to the developments in terms of national and international security that would
take place after 1989.
A lvarez G
omez (2011) and Marcy (2010) point out that the involvement of the
military in fighting drug trafficking also began early in Reagans term in 1982,
when the Posse Comitatus Act, the 1878 law prohibiting the employment of armed
forces in law enforcement operations on US soil, was renewed. Since then, the US
military has received extra attributions in support of anti-drug police and the
operations of agencies such as the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA),
established in 1974, whose role was augmented during the Reagan years.
The following administration, that of George H. W. Bush (19891992), Vice
President of Reagan and an enthusiast of the militarization of the War on Drugs,
was marked by military interventions justified by the fight against drug trafficking
(such as the 1989 arrest of the then-President of Panama, Manuel Noriega) and the
holding of presidential summits in 1990 (in Colombia) and 1992 (in the US) that
sought to refine the militarized anti-drug policies in the Americas. The impact of
these policies can be seen in plans such as the Andean Initiative and the formation
of special military anti-drug groups with US support in countries like Mexico,
Bolivia, Peru, and Colombia (Hargraves 1992; Herz 2006). The Bush adminis-
tration was responsible for the first redefinition of US security and geostrategic
plans motivated by the end of the Cold War, which raised the issue of drug
trafficking to the position of one of the main security themes of the Americas.
The two terms of Bill Clinton (19922000), however, were crucial in terms of
producing the current contours of the continental securitization of drug trafficking.
On the one hand, the US diplomatic and military apparatus advanced the concept of
shared responsibility that softened the more bellicose discourse of the Reagan
and Bush administrations, assuming that US demand fed the international market
for illegal drugs, while it skillfully inserted drug trafficking as both a national and
continental priority issue in the security agenda of the American countries (Rodri-
gues 2015). On the other hand, the end of the second Clinton term saw the
Colombia Plan, developed from earlier plans but innovating in volume of resources
and the forms of its implementation.
From the start, the Colombia Plan, announced by Presidents Andres Pastrana of
Colombia and Clinton in 1999, provided for a multidimensional input of resources
for the promotion of peace talks with the guerrillas, the strengthening the judiciary,
police reform, and other areas (Santos 2007). However, after the September
11, 2001 attacks, during the presidency of George W. Bush, the securitization and
militarization elements present in the Plan were reinforced, resulting in support
being given to combatting the guerrillas, in particular the Revolutionary Armed
Forces of Colombia/Peoples Army (FARC-EP). This movement towards the
militarization of the Plan combined with the security policy promoted by President
A lvaro Uribe, who was elected in 2002 with a strong repressive discourse, widely
supported in Colombian society. Uribes security policy used resources from the
United States to fight narcoterrorists; indicating the flexibility with which this
classification was recovered from the Reagan era and reused in times of the George
W. Bushs war on terror (Herschinger 2011).
The securitization guideline was not restricted to Colombia, but took different
forms in the countries of the region. Moreover, the use of military forces grew and
developed in Mexico and Brazil. The Mexican case is, to date, the most explicit,
especially in the 6-year presidency of Felipe Calderon (20062012). Calderon was
elected in a close vote, becoming President in December 2006, with relatively low
support. In early 2007, one of his first acts as President was to declare war on
drugs (Rodrguez Luna 2010; Aguilar and Casta~neda 2012). His popularity imme-
diately grew, which revealed the sensitivity level of Mexican society to the subject
of the so-called cartel violence, while the army and the navy were deployed to
occupy cities and regions of the country (Langton 2013; Aguilar and Casta~neda
2012; Labate and Rodrigues 2015a, b).
Also in 2007, the governments of Calderon and George W. Bush negotiated a
new plan, once again with a military emphasis, called the Merida Initiative, which
brought financial support, equipment transfer, military-technical consultancy, and
military training to the Mexican armed forces (Bentez Manaut 2010; A lvarez
Gomez et al. 2011). It is important to remember the old historical provenance
that, in Mexico, had categorized the crimes against health as a national security
issue from the early twentieth century. The use of the military in combating drug
trafficking groups began to grow at the end of the 1970s and the beginning of the
1980s, reaching unprecedented levels as a result of the Merida Initiative. However,
the environment was prepared, both from a legal point of view and that of social and
health practices, for this step forward in the drug trafficking securitization policy
(Rodrigues 2013).
In addition, following the so-called balloon effect that displaced the activities
of drug traffickers from the focus of repression, the militarization of the Colombia
Plan and its effects on the Colombian cocaine and heroin market allowed Mexican
cartels, previously less important than those of Colombia, to take over distri-
bution routes and, mainly by using violence, increase competition for entry into the
US market (Bentez Manaut 2010; Saviano 2014). In any case, it is important to
note that the militarized logic reveals the securitization both at the national and
international level, indicating how these levels emerged and were linked from the
1970s on.
Since the end of the dictatorship in 1985, public security problems in Brazil have
taken a prominent place in state policies and social concerns. Among these issues,
the problem of drug trafficking became more visible with the increase in violent
competition in the 1980s for power and markets in cities such as Rio de Janeiro and
S~ao Paulo, and began to reach middle and upper class neighborhoods, reinforcing
stereotypes and racial and social prejudices. The policies of the military police to
confront drug trafficking took on a militarized logic, both in the tactics and the
equipment used, whether it was for the purpose of territorial occupation or the
murder of drug traffickers (Barreira and Botelho 2013; Serra and Rodrigues 2014).
However, the role of the army in fighting organized crime has historically been
limited, merely supporting the Federal Police in border actions or in the favelas of
Rio de Janeiro.
This scenario changed with the use of military occupations in the Rio de Janeiro
favelas between 2010 and 2012 (Serra & Zaccone 2012), and was repeated in a
similar mission that began in 2014. These operations were legally supported by a
constitutional provision authorizing the federal government to intervene in internal

security issues on the formal request of state governments. This happened in Rio de
Janeiro, leading to the formation of the Pacification Forces of the Army, called in
to occupy favelas until the Military Police units, linked to the so-called pacifi-
cation program, could be put in place, replacing one occupation with another
(Barreira and Botelho 2013; Rodrigues 2012a, b).
The prominence given to drug trafficking as a central item of public security
problems in Brazil, and the recent temporary use of the army in combatting drugs,
has not yet led to an official formulation of the drug trade as a threat to national
security, as in the Mexican case. However, a broader understanding of the securiti-
zation process, as suggested earlier, can make us think of these practices beyond the
statements and official military engagement. Thus, there is, in practice, an increased
fusion between the public security and the national security areas, the link being the
threat of drug trafficking. In other words, in order for the drug trafficking
securitization process to take place, there is no need to directly and continuously
involve the military, nor is this formally defined in the political and strategic
discourse. This militarization, as mentioned by Graham (2010), is an expanded
set of practices, attempts at surveillance, and treatment of otherness as threatening.
This militarized practice involves the spread (also among civilians) of techniques
and equipment of military origin, such as security cameras, electronic tracking
equipment, biometric devices, etc. It also implies the identification and permanent
construction of enemies: individuals or social groups perceived as dangerous and
who need to be contained in the name of the security of the state and society
(Neocleous 2011).
In any case, the construction of the security issue of drug trafficking in the
Americas was established at different levels. After the areas of moral and health
security came public security, directly associated with laws that criminalized the
production, sale, and consumption of certain psychoactives from the 1920s. From
the 1960s, accompanying the internationalization of the control system of drugs and
the worldwide increase in the consumption of illegal psychoactives, the public
security dimension began to be associated with national security, especially after
the declaration of the War on Drugs by the Nixon administration. Immediately
following this, the involvement of Latin American and Caribbean countries, in the
logic of the War on Drugs, boosted already existing local processes of domestic
securitization, linking them with the continental coverage supported by the
United States. After this, in 1990, in order to strengthen the idea that the problem
of drugs would be common to American countries, there spread an important dis-
cursive securitization element that was (and is) assimilated and reprocessed in
each country according to its own dynamics, moral values, interests, and struggles
related to the construction of Prohibitionism and its updates.
Final Words and an Invitation
The history of the prohibition of drugs is relatively recent. However, its 100 years
have been marked by the deployment of violence, controls on individuals, social
groups and countries, the increased consumption of illicit psychoactives, the growth
in the circulation of huge illegal financial resources, and the multiple diplomatic,
economic, and military interventions that determine state policies or extend repres-
sive features long rooted in our societies. This story is both that of international
links and national features, as every country has its particular processes in terms of
the form of the tactics of social control and the governing of its peoples.
Prohibitionism should therefore not be regarded as a single movement, as the
ism suggests. Nor is it a mere external imposition on certain countries. It is not
the solitary creation of the United States to be then forced on other American
countries, though it is true that the United States was, and continues to be, the main
material and discursive financier of the War on Drugs, and its role has been crucial
in determining the trajectory of the global prohibitionism. However, accepting the
hypothesis of gringo imposition would prevent us from seeing how each country
that now supports the international prohibitionist regime gave in to international
influences and remodeled them according to the interests of their local elites,
seasoned by the traditional concerns with maintaining political, economic, and
social order (also see Smith, in this volume).
There is a prohibitionist logic that has spread worldwide, but which was
established by the interrelation between its beginnings in the US and local devel-
opments in other countries. This logic, according to the analysis put forward here, is
linked to five levels that encompass both the scope of social practices and the state
policies produced by the emergence of governmentality focused on the control and
management of peoples lives. The analytical perspective of Foucault expands the
study of prohibitionism beyond its legal and political aspects, understanding that
the illegality of certain psychoactives was not the result of mere cabinet decisions,
but rather the effects of the connection within a state that was governmentalized by
various control tactics that emerged from demands spread through society.
Prohibitionism would never have existed without social practices that reject the
use of drugs on moral grounds. These practices are, in turn, associated with beliefs
that are more or less supported in certain medical discourses identifying hazards to
physical and mental health posed by the use of certain drugs, and, on this basis,
calling for their criminalization. These medical discourses are systematically
reviewed, criticized, restated, and are sometimes invoked as the basis for the
absolution of certain drugs, such as marijuana, whose use is now reaching
increasing levels of freedom due to medical research that recommends it for a
number of therapeutic and even recreational purposes (Souza and Herz 2015).
Anyway, today, to support arguments for the legalization of marijuana, its critics
can use the same medical argument, present since The Hague Conference in
1912, and which serves as a scientific basis for Prohibitionism. This shift demon-
strates changes in prohibitionism, which continues to function with the reduction of
the illegality of marijuana and the continued criminalization of a large (and

growing) range of other psychoactives. These continuities may add another level
of analysis to the five presented here, which will require more detailed future
studies.
The analytical framework proposed here could incorporate the current changes
in drug policy, taking into consideration changes that occur on the moral level and
social practices, which now consider the recreational use of psychoactives such as
marijuana to be acceptable; and in public health, which now recommends the use of
substances such as marijuana itself or derivatives for medicinal purposes. At the
same time, the continuing illegality of other psychoactives activates a powerful
illegal transterritorial market. To combat this, the War on Drugs has been updated
with growing militarization, occupation of favelas, and diplomatic and economic
pressures. Prohibitionism, as a historical and political construction, is dynamic, and
its five analytical levels alter their content and ways of relating to each other.
Thus, the analytical framework proposed here is established at levels, specifi-
cally to indicate how the processes that have formed and renewed prohibitionism
are dynamic. At different times, each of the five proposed levels may have a
different weight compared to others. Similarly, at the same historical moment, the
five levels can be combined in different ways in different countries. The national
dimension has been undermined as a category of analysis by the fact that drug
trafficking has become a transterritorial phenomenon that joins regions of
different countries and even districts, favelas or parts of one country with another.
Watertight divisions between inside and outside the country, as pointed out by
contemporary authors of international relations like Walker (1993), have long been
undermined by flows of people, goods, capital, and electronic data, in both legal and
illegal ways. Therefore, the levels themselves should not be taken as rigid vectors
marked only by national borders. On the contrary, it is necessary to carry out joint
studies so that the cross-border links of these levels may be explained and analyzed.
This book is an attempt to join these issues and put them into perspective.
This chapter is therefore an invitation to study prohibitionism dynamically and
critically; the analytical framework presented should be viewed through a methodo-
logical convergence point to establish dialogue not only between comparative
studies but also between analyses that are combined into even bigger and more
complex frames. It would be highly significant if the suggested analytical levels
could support studies on the history of prohibitionism in the various American
countries, to indicate how each society has experienced the emergence and the
criminalization of the production, sale, and consumption of certain psychoactive
drugs. Multiple combined analytical exercises could enrich our understanding of
how we have reached this situation and how we can actively intervene in the
academic and political debate on drugs. In this world of countless transterritorial
flows, illegal so-called drug trafficking has had a good time under the mantle of
Prohibitionism, which has helped it to increase profits and perpetuate its logic.
The study of this area cannot thus be impervious or intend to offer grand theoretical
explanations that disregard time and space. This analytical framework is an
invitation and suggestion to enter this daily war that brought about
Prohibitionism and that directs it every day in countless violent clashes.
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of the US and Latin America in the post-Cold War]. S~ao Paulo: Annablume/FAPESP.
Saviano, R. (2014). Zero, zero, zero. S~ao Paulo: Companhia das Letras.
Serra, C. A., & Rodrigues, T. (2014). Estado de Direito e Punic~ao: a l ogica da guerra no Rio de
Janeiro. Revista Paranaense de Desenvolvimento, 35(126), 91108.
Serra, C.A., & Zaccone, O. (2012). Guerra e paz: os paradoxos da poltica de seguranca de
confronto humanitario [War is peace: The paradoxes of confrontational humanitarian security
policy] (pp. 2346). In V. M. Batista (Ed.), Paz armada [Armed peace]. Rio de Janeiro:
Editora Revan/Instituto Carioca de Criminologia.
Smith, B.T., Public drug policy and grey zone pacts in Mexico, 19201980, in this volume.
Souza, A. & Herz, M. (2015). Drug moms, drug warriors: Gender performances and the production of
(in)security in the discursive construction of the war on drugs toward Latin America
(Masters thesis). Rio de Janeiro: Institute of International Relations, Pontifical Catholic University.
Szasz, T. (1992). Our right on drugs: The case for free market. New York: Praeger.
Walker, R. B. J. (1993). Inside/outside: International relations as political theory. Cambridge, UK:
Cambridge University Press.
Chapter 3
Public Drug Policy and Grey Zone Pacts
in Mexico, 19201980
Benjamin T. Smith
Researchers have viewed Mexican drug policy in clear, unilinear terms. According
to this model, antidrug strategies involved two processes. First, US prohibitionists
used persuasion, threats and direct sanctions to inflict increasingly harsh drug
legislation on the Mexican government. Then, these strategies passed down the
hierarchy to local enforcers. Where these policies failed, investigators deemed
corruption (Walker 1989; Recio 2002; Astorga 2003; Mercille 2011). Such an
approach clearly has ample explanatory value. At distinct points, US pressure
curtailed more liberal national policies. And, at the same time, petty graft regularly
undermined the efficacy of top-down policies. Yet, such a unidirectional framework
rests on unconvincing models of both Mexican culture and the Mexican state.
On the one hand, Mexican antidrug policies have rested as much on endogenous
cultural understandings as exogenous US pressure. The association between mar-
ijuana and criminality emerged in Mexico during the late Porfiriato (18761911),
was underpinned by distinctly Mexican appreciations of race and class, and
pre-empted and even shaped the USs own anti-marijuana drive of the 1930s.
President Nixons anti-narcotics policies dovetailed with contemporary understand-
ings of Mexican psychologists, criminologists, and commentators. On the other
hand, reading the failure of Mexican drug policy as a process of top-down imple-
mentation and local corruption is also problematic. Corruption is a broad, imprecise
term, which conflates everyday acts of negligence with large-scale, institutional and
systematic control of the drug industry (Knight 1996). Under the Institutional
Revolutionary Party (PRI) policy and corruption were often not at odds. Mexican
drug policy did not so much combat official corruption, but rather embraced this
corruption and used it to bring stability, security, and financial reward to certain
groups.
B.T. Smith (*)

Department of History, University of Warwick, Humanities Building, University Road,
Coventry CV4 7AL, UK
e-mail: b.smith.1@warwick.ac.uk

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_3
34 B.T. Smith
Instead, this chapter proposes a new analytical framework. Since Mexico

established drug prohibition laws in the 1920s, two parallel drug policies have
existed side by side. First, there was public drug policy: the international agree-
ments, national laws, and public declarations that formed the official line on
narcotics. The US played a substantial role in shaping these public policies, but
so did homegrown Mexican appreciation of narcotics. During the twentieth century,
drugs became a persistent biopolitical signifier for perceived aberrant or antisocial
behavior, used to condemn poor urbanites, indigenous groups, foreigners, homo-
sexuals, and rebellious youths.
Second, there was grey zone drug policy. Over the past 20 years, researchers
have searched for expressions to describe the clandestine, off-the-books policies
enacted by states together with private groups to maintain political control. Most
investigators have focused on paramilitary violence, observing the way in which
such violence emanates from groups or organizations loosely connected to formal
state organs but nevertheless run. . . by private interests. For Robert Holden, such
violence is parainstitutional; for John Gledhill, such agreements occur on the
dark side of the state; and for Javier Auyero and Wil Pansters, they happen in the
grey zone (Pansters 2012, p. 25). In this chapter, I suggest extending grey zone
politics beyond readings of violence to encapsulate a broader array of unpublicized,
covert agreements between institutions and private entrepreneurs. There is some
danger to this. Accusations of state complicity can spill into conspiracy theory. It is
often hard to see where state incapacity ends and official permission begins. Luis
Astorga has argued against the pretension of discovering the precise connections
between agents of the state and drug traffickers; such knowledge is reserved for
the initiated (Astorga 1995, p. 89). Yet, such connections did exist. High-up
officials deliberately allowed governors, generals and security officials to control
regional drug trafficking, not out of corruption, but to payoff certain groups and
bring stability to certain areas. Furthermore, the careful triangulation of disparate
sources may not offer exact maps of state-trafficker collusion, but can point to
certain arrangements.
Public and grey zone drug policies were undergirded by the weakness of the
Mexican state. Although social scientists often portrayed the PRI regime as a heavy,
centralized, pyramidal political system, the post-revolutionary state was compara-
tively weak. Taxation as a percentage of Gross Domestic Product was lower than
any other Latin American country. Low taxes hamstrung political capacity. At the
most prosaic level, the federal government was able to pay only a very limited
number of employees. And despite the veneer of gradual centralization, regional
autonomy persisted. Governors continued to organize local elections, shape federal
policies, and keep the peace. In the villages, caciques still ruled (Knight 2002;
Smith 2014; Hernandez Rodriguez 2008). As a result, even during the pomp of the
PRI, the states capacity to enact federal policy was extremely low. Public drug
laws, like laws governing logging, liquor, and prostitution were often roundly
ignored. But, such incapacity also offered the state means to buy off certain groups,
offering them covert permission to indulge in illegal activities. These grey zone
deals worked as a kind of [im]moral economy. While the state proffered
3 Public Drug Policy and Grey Zone Pacts in Mexico, 19201980 35
non-interference, groups agreed to keep a low profile, remain loyal, and keep the
peace. If they reneged on this deal, the state could not only use official public policy
to crack down on these groups, they could also use excuses of incapacity and local
autonomy to escape accusations of complicity.
If state weakness shaped Mexicos twin drug policies, economic, political, and
cultural pressures mediated between the two; at times, pressing the state to increase
persecution and, at times, allowing the state to open up more grey zone deals.
Here, at the intersection of public and grey zone politics, the drug market was key.
Rising drug trafficking forced Mexico to take more stringent measures against
contraband activities. Rising drug consumption, or at least the perception of rising
drug consumption, allowed authorities to push more stringent regulations onto the
population. US pressure also played a role. Behind closed doors, bureaucrats, drug
enforcement agents, and security officials regularly challenged specific grey zone
deals, forcing the Mexican government to suppress drug organizations. Finally, the
press also mediated between these two areas of drug policy. Limited public
accusations of state-trafficker complicity allowed covert deals to continue and
even expand. In contrast, repeated front-page coverage, whether gleaned from
investigative reporting or targeted leaks, obliged the Mexican government to
clamp down.
Drugs During the Porfiriato
Throughout much of the nineteen-century, drugs such as opium, cocaine, coca leaf,
and marijuana were used widely as medicines. During the 1840s, Mexican entre-
preneurs suggested mass-producing poppies in order to exact opium for medicinal
purposes. And during the 1850s, Dr. Cresencio Garca discussed the medical
attributes of cannabis, recommending its use in cases of epilepsy, tetanus, convul-
sions, and uterine contractions (Perez Montfort 1997, p. 149). Even 30 years later,
the Pharmaceutical Society of Mexico described coca leaf as a general stimulating
tonic, cocaine as an analgesic, codeine and morphine as sedatives, and opium as
an indispensible element for the elaboration of pharmaceutical products
(Schievenini Stefanoni 2012, pp. 26, 31). Even marijuana was still widely sold,
dissolved in alcohol as a tincture to rub on aching muscles and packed in imported
French cigarettes to cure asthma, bronchitis, snoring, the loss of voice, pulmonary
infection and laryngitis (Cigarros Indios de Canabis Indica 1867).
But, during the last two decades of the nineteenth century, estimations of certain
drugs changed. Smoking marijuana especially became associated with insanity and
criminality. In the popular press, stories of marihuanos, or marijuana smokers,
committing crimes in states of profound irrationality were relatively commonplace.
Isaac Campos estimates that of 424 articles that mentioned the drug, published
between 1854 and 1920, over 200 linked the substance to violence, and another
140 to madness (Campos 2014, p. 96). Alarmist editorials backed these claims,
claiming marijuana was an abominable herb, deadly like Lucretia Borgia, a
36 B.T. Smith
harmful temptation with more intense effects that alcohol, consumed secretly by
proletarians that believe that they can realize their paradise in the hellish impulsions
that the terrible drug produces. (Perez Montfort 1997, p. 167). Finally, pharmacists
and doctors joined in the condemnation, offering scientific support for the news-
papers claims. In 1897 Dr. Jose Olvera claimed that, after one cigarillo, the novice
marijuana smoker would be a devotee, addicted to a drug that produces turbu-
lence that tends towards exaltation and impulsive delirium (Periodico de la
Sociedad Farmaceutica Mexicana, 1897).
How did marijuana, used occasionally as an herbal remedy, become the hardest
drug of all, one that was perceived to trigger sudden paroxysms of delirious
violence? According to Campos, marijuana became associated with intoxication
or embriaguez in general. In fact, many commentators often failed to differentiate
the effects of marijuana, alcohol, and other drugs at all. While anxieties over the
intoxication of the lower classes was nothing new, during the late nineteenth
century concern peaked, solidifying into a series of medical theories. These theories
saw repeated use of alcohol or, by extension, marijuana as inexorably leading to
madness. Second, marijuana use became associated with two key spaces, the prison
and the barracks. In fact, of 424 stories on marijuana, 160 mentioned soldiers and
115 prisoners. Both spaces had heavy symbolic weight, encapsulating the injus-
tice, unhygienic conditions, violence, and vice which were perceived to hold back
Mexicos progress (Campos 2014, pp. 5, 96, 105). Finally, the selling of marijuana
became increasingly connected to herbolarias or female herbalists. Porfirian elites,
particularly doctors and pharmacists, held these folk healers to be superstitious,
indigenous charlatans, rebels against civilization, dead losses that deserve the most
severe punishments. (Perez Montfort 1997, p. 156). Together, these negative
associations persuaded many elites that marijuana use was not simply unhealthy,
but rather formed one of the many pernicious customs, which degenerated the
race
Few other drugs generated marijuanas level of opprobrium. In fact, during the
late Porfiriato, chemically processed drugs were sometimes lauded as sophisticated
addendums to a bohemian lifestyle. But, by the late nineteenth century, antidrug
discourses started to touch these substances as well. Smoking opium became
associated with Chinese immigrants. In 1904, El Imparcial revealed that the
Chinese mafia of San Francisco had extended branches to Torreon and Monterrey
where they were dedicated to smoking opium (La mafia china en Mexico
1904). Four years later, the paper termed Chinese immigration a monster that ha
[d] invaded the world and sent a reporter to Mexico Citys Chinese barrio. Here,
the journalist found that the Chinese lived on a handful of rice, a cup of tea, and a
pipe of opium (El barrio chino en Mexico 1908). Substances which were
perceived as for the elite, like morphine, laudanum, and cocaine were read as either
feminine or decadent. Such drugs were deemed poisons converted into fashions,
praised by a handful of madmen and elegant vice[s], expensive, sumptuous, [and]
aristocratic (Perez Montfort 1997, pp. 169170). Again, both discourses linked
drug taking to the degeneration of the race. While opium smoking was a perni-
cious foreign custom, brought by the secretive, sexually rapacious Chinese;
morphine, cocaine, and laudanum use was a decadent, feminine, soft comfort that
threatened Mexican masculinity.
During the Porfiriato, the Mexican state did not outlaw drugs. But, by the 1880s,
these negative associations fed into frequent regulations over their trade and use. In
1882, authorities banned the use of cards, alcohol, and marijuana in Mexico Citys
military hospital to cut down on fights and other disasters (Campos 2014, p. 137).
A decade later, medical professionals helped push through a series of health codes
that attempted to cut out herbolarias and limit the sale of dangerous drugs like
marijuana to professional pharmacists (Schievenini Stefanoni 2012, p. 121).
Between Regulation and Prohibition, 19101940
During the first decades of the twentieth century, US authorities took an increas-
ingly hardline stance against the trade and use of narcotics. Antidrug legislators
pushed through national laws like the 1914 Harrison Narcotic Act and the 1937
Marihuana Tax Act, established new institutions like the Federal Bureau of Nar-
cotics, and supported international pacts against drug trafficking like the 1912
Hague and the 1931 Geneva Conventions. Along the Mexican border, prohibition
generated an increasing drug trade as merchants attempted to satisfy US demand.
During the 1910s, US soldiers crossed the border to visit the brothels and opium
dens of Tijuana and Mexicali; by the next decade, Mexican entrepreneurs were
selling drugs to US and Mexican clients in towns along the northwest frontier. In
Nogales, the gold-dentured, diamond-clad Chinese Tong leader, Ben Jim Ungson,
raked in a fortune trading opium as far north as New York. In Ciudad Juarez, US bar
owner Harry Mitchell teamed up with the Henriquez brothers to run the trade. At
first, most narcotics were imported; cocaine from France via a Santa Rosalia-based
French mining company; opium from Asia into Ense~nada, Guaymas or Mazatlan.
But, by the mid-1920s, Chinese and Mexican farmers were harvesting small poppy
plantations throughout the mountainous regions of the northwest (Astorga 2003).
Beyond the border, there was also a much smaller internal market for narcotics
in Mexico City and a few provincial towns. A smattering of opium dens in Tijuana,
Mexicali, Guadalajara, Hermosillo, and Nogales provided drugs for a handful of
Chinese and Mexican users. But, in general, cocaine, heroin, morphine, and opium
use was limited. US authorities concluded that the poverty of the patients and the
disinclination of Mexican physicians to prescribe narcotics ma[d]e for a very low
Mexican per capita use (Carey 2014, p. 25). Marijuana use, however, was more
common. In 1939, the head of the Mexican health department estimated that 80 %
of Mexico Citys 6500 drug users smoked the drug (Astorga 2003, p. 198). During
the Revolution, soldiers smoked what Francisco L. Uquizo called the liberating
herb, the consolation of the overwhelmed, the sad and the afflicted (Perez Montfort
1997, p. 190); by the late 1910s, soldiers in the military hospital had started to grow
their own. Prisons also remained centers of the trade. In 1930, police raided the
ciudad perdida behind the penitentiary and found 1000 marijuana cigarettes and
38 B.T. Smith
over 30 kg of the herb (Comentarios al Dia 1930). Besides soldiers and prisoners,
Eugenio Gomez Maillefert, the first amateur anthropologist of Mexican marijuana,
claimed that users included thieves, prostitutes, individuals of the middle class and
well off young men, who used to purchase what they termed grifa from
herbalists, healers, or artisans back rooms. In fact, marijuana subculture was so
established it had even its own distinct patois (Gomez Maillefert 1920, p. 3).
Initially, post-revolutionary attitudes to narcotics differed little from the
Porfiriato. Marijuana was still linked to criminality and madness. During the
Revolution, the capitals newspapers blamed the drug for inciting revolutionary
armies. In 1912, El Imparcial claimed that Epigmento Escajeda had attacked
haciendas around Mexico City after smoking marijuana. In the following decades,
connections between marijuana and violence continued (Ataques sangrientas
1912). Two decades later, Guadalajaras El Informador reported that a man had
shot a 9-year old child probably under the influence of alcohol or marijuana (Las
mas repugnantes lacras 1934). At the same time, increasing xenophobia towards
Mexicos Chinese cemented the link between opium and the immigrant population.
Newspaper reports focused on Chinese laundries and shops busted as clandestine
opium dens; editorials claimed that the Chinese throughout the world trafficked in
drugs completely openly, hiding behind the shield of bought off police; and racist
pamphlets argued that the use of opium, chewed or smoked in enormous pipes,
[was] traditional among the sons of [China] and there [we]re none who [we]re
indifferent to the use of the drug and none who [didnt] know how to grow it
(Carey 2014, p. 30; Perez Montfort 2000, p. 125).
Together, international agreements, US prohibition, and endogenous cultural
prejudices pushed the Mexican government towards taking an increasingly hardline
stance. Two years after the Hague Convention, the Huerta regime responded to
Chinese requests for opium importation licenses by banning the trade in smoking
opium and limiting the import of medical opium, cocaine, and their derivatives to
pharmacies licensed by the department of health (Acta de la sesion 1914). After
Huerta fell, the Carranza government reiterated the ban in 1916. And, in 1920, the
rulings over the trade of products which can be used to foment vices which
degenerate the race fleshed out the licensing laws over opium and cocaine and
added a blanket ban on the cultivation and trade in marijuana (Schievenini
Stefanoni 2012, pp. 61, 101). The law, which pre-empted the US Marihuana Tax
Act and skipped over regulation straight to prohibition, reflected public health
reformers profound anxiety about the effects of the drug.
Over the next decade, the revolutionary state expanded on these relatively
uncompromising laws, publishing increasingly stringent decrees in 1923 and
1925 and adding drug offenses to the sanitary and penal codes. Finally, in 1931,
the revised penal code brought together these disparate regulations. But the code
also revealed the beginnings of a division between legal and public health appre-
ciations of narcotics. The split would eventually reach crisis point in 1940, when
public health officials briefly established a regulated, state monopoly in drugs. On
the one hand, the code fixed penalties for those who bought, traded, elaborated,
imported, or exported prohibited drugs. At the top end, penalties could extend to
between 6 and 10 years in jail. On the other hand, legislators inserted the provision
in article 194 of the code that individuals were not to be prosecuted in cases of
exclusively personal use (Schievenini Stefanoni 2012, pp. 107131). In these
cases, legislators recommended treatment at the newly established federal hospital
of drug addition.
During the immediate post-revolutionary period, new regulations generated
considerable police activity. On the border, US and Mexican officials made a few
cautious steps towards joint investigations. In 1928, US officials tipped off the
Mexican investigator Ignacio Dosamontes in Ciudad Juarez, who managed to
decommission 10 kg of morphine, heroin, and cocaine with a street value of
$150,000 (Astorga 2003, p. 80). After the 1931 Penal Code, police in Mexico
City also clamped down on the street marijuana dealers outside cabarets and bars.
Many of the arrested were rural women from the villages outside Mexico City;
transient, modern versions of the old market stall herbolarias. By 1934, the city had
allegedly imprisoned 5000 drug offenders (Editorial, 1934). Beyond the border and
Mexico City, most drug busts targeted Mexicos Chinese population. In fact,
provincial officials often seemed to have used the perceived connection between
opium dens and the Chinese to justify mass deportations. In 1930, the governor of
Durango asked permission to deport from the state 100 Chinese men busted for
gambling and smoking opium (Carey 2014, p. 45).
But, officials also implemented 1931 regulations, which encouraged treatment
for individual toxicomanos (drug addicts). In fact, by 1935, public health consid-
erations may have trumped criminal considerations. That year the health depart-
ment reported that it had sent 415 drug users to hospital for treatment but only 82 to
federal court for trafficking offenses (Slius 2006, p. 199). The federal hospital for
drug addicts, run by the future propagandist for the state drug monopoly, Leopoldo
Salazar Viniegra, soon filled up. Between 1934 and 1937, the institution admitted
1800 patients. According to the records, over 80 % were men and 91 % were born
outside Mexico City. Most were small merchants or commercial employees; only
4 % were peasants, 2 % professionals, and 1 % students. 51 % were heroin users, but
21 % were being treated for morphine addictions and 33 % were allegedly hooked
on marijuana (Unikel 1995).
Outside public drug policy, prohibition also generated the beginning of grey
zone pacts between officials and narcotics traffickers. In the provinces, just a year
after Carranzas opium ban, the governor of Baja California, Esteban Cantu, set the
trend; protecting select opium traders from persecution, shaking down others for
substantial fines, and even employing his own brother to transport opium from
Ense~ nada over the border in exchange for guns. The operation clearly brought
Cantu substantial wealth, used, according to US sources, to feed his own morphine
habit. But, like future grey zone pacts, the system also operated to bring stability
to the region, keeping merchants, bar owners, and businessmen on side, and
providing the government with valuable sub rosa tax income and arms (Schantz
2001). During the 1930s, the governor of Chihuahua established an analogous
system in Ciudad Juarez, protecting select smugglers, extracting cash from drug-
selling bar owners, and involving his own family in the trade (Mottier 2009).
40 B.T. Smith
In Mexico City, similar deals emerged. In 1925, the ministry of the interior sent
agents to investigate Department of Health accusations that the city police were
protecting large dealers. The investigation revealed 67 drug retailers, most of whom
paid protection money to the police. When dealers refused to pay, police arrested
them, took their merchandise, and then sold it to traffickers heading up north
(Astorga 2003, pp. 161163). Six years later, US officials chanced upon an even
more extensive grey zone deal. According to their informant, Mexican officials,
including Federal District chief and the governor of San Luis Potos, had linked up
with Chinese Tong gangs to control the drug trade in Mexico City. Another network
of politicians, led by chief of the presidential staff, had attempted to shift the head of
the Federal District from power and establish their own links with the Tong gangs.
When the minister of the interior, Carlos Riva Palacios, discovered the deals, he
asked Plutarco Elas Calles for his permission to clean house. Calles, reluctant to
alienate key allies, refused and Riva Palacios was forced to resign. Again, both
monetary gain and political stability trumped legal rectitude (Castle 1931).
Between 1910 and 1940, exogenous and endogenous pressures for drug prohi-
bition in Mexico generated distinct divisions. On the one hand, state drug policy
was divided. While regulations, laws, and public pronouncements regularly
denounced drug trafficking, post-revolutionary officials continued to protect the
lucrative trade. On the other hand, post-revolutionary officials split between those
that viewed drug use as a public health issue to be treated with hospitalization and
those that viewed drug trafficking and drug use as both criminal activities.
Revolutionary Regulation: The State Drug Monopoly
During the late 1930s, divisions between traditional Mexican prohibitionists and
these new public health officials came to a head. Prohibitionists included an older
generation of doctors, pharmacists, policemen, and media commentators. They
demanded strict criminal penalties for both drug use and drug trafficking. Their
arguments rested on a blend of old Porfirian tropes, which linked drug, and
especially marijuana, use to madness and criminality and imported US anti-
marijuana discourses. The new public health officials included doctors working in
the field of drug addiction, like Leopoldo Salazar Viniegra and Jorge Segura Millan,
a few radical sympathizers like the head of the health department, Leonides Andreu
Almazan, and probably President Lazaro Cardenas.
In a series of articles, Salazar laid out these new proposals. First, he argued that
the dangers of marijuana were greatly overstated. Systematically reviewing medical
studies of the drug, he pointed out inaccuracies, pieces of hearsay, and misappli-
cations of the data. In another section, he attacked journalists appreciations of the
drug, especially those linking marijuana smoking to madness, violence, and crim-
inality. In fact, he claimed marijuana never caused any mental disorders. Finally,
he presented his own research on the subject conducted among a wide range of
patients, including a handful of unsuspecting medical colleagues, and his 9-year-old
nephew, who had mistakenly smoked one of his marijuana-laced cigarettes. He

concluded that, irrespective of class, education or age, marijuana did little except
dry the lips, redden the eyes, and produce a feeling of hunger (Salazar 1938).
Second, he argued that drug addiction should be treated as a public health
problem and not as a crime. Building on his work on marijuana, he claimed that
there was no intrinsic link between drug addiction and criminality. In fact, it was
only the high price of drugs, generated by prohibition, that led users to commit
crimes. Rather than stocking the prisons with users, he suggested a combination of
education, drug treatment hospitals, and psychiatric help. Thirdly, he suggested
ending prohibition and establishing a new state-run drug monopoly. Prohibition, he
argued, had generated the market for illegal drugs, and stopping drug traffickers
was almost impossible. Furthermore, the illegal trade had two important supple-
mentary consequences: it corrupted the Mexican police force, which was paid to
protect the big dealers, and it pushed up prices, forcing users into crime. As a result,
he reasoned, the best way to deal with drug addiction was not through prohibition
but state control. A state drug monopoly that sold drugs at wholesale prices would
put the dealers out of business, reduce police corruption, and allow users to feed
their habits without recourse to crime (Astorga 2003; Perez Montfort 2000).
Salazars arguments seemed to have emerged from his own research and expe-
riences. Why they were taken so seriously is more difficult to gauge. In part, it was
probably due to Salazars own charisma. Described by a fellow psychiatrist as
intelligent, unconventional and colorful, he insisted on teaching classes on
Sundays, graded students based on their pistol marksmanship, and spent his idle
hours injecting marijuana extract into the brains of live chickens (Villase~nor
Bayardo 2004, pp. 332333). Salazar certainly impressed the radical new head of
the health department, who supported the idea of a state drug monopoly throughout
his tenure. But, Salazars arguments also tied in with other discourses of the
Cardenas era. His emphasis on using state control to undermine exploitative
commercial monopolies mirrored state approaches to the paper, forestry, and
even petroleum industries. Finally, his soft peddling of marijuanas dangers might
have appealed to some revolutionaries fond memories of barracks life.
However, if a handful of revolutionary policy makers supported Salazars pro-
posals, most US and Mexican officials remained firmly opposed. The conservative
press ridiculed Salazar, linked him to the illegal sale of drugs, accused him of
prescribing vast quantities of marijuana, hinted that most of the health depart-
ment disagreed with his theories, and even published a rebuke by Harry Anslinger
(Astorga 2003, p. 180; Perez Montfort 2000). Criminalia, the legal journal, which
first ran his marijuana article, also published a series of critiques. Here, US and
Mexican doctors reiterated the dangers of the drug, repeating links to chronic
mental disorders and the degeneration of the race (Schievenini Stefanoni 2012,
pp. 188197). The Mexican pharmacists association published a Honduran doc-
tors article on Marihuana, the Killer Herb, that argued that marijuana smokers
were capable of the most horrendous crimes as if possessed by the demon and
warned the police to look for marijuana use as the cause of every crime (Mejia
1938). Behind closed doors, US antidrug officials were no less concerned.
42 B.T. Smith
Anslinger worried that border morphine clinics and the illegal smuggling of
Mexican state drugs would lower US prices. The assistant chief of the Customs
Bureau called Salazars work, the outpourings of an educated nigger (Astorga
2003, p. 208).
In 1939, Salazar and Leonides Andreu Almazan left the department of health.
But, in January 1940, the state made Salazars ideas law, introducing the new
Federal Regulations of Drug Addiction. The regulations gave the department the
right to treat users; those in prison for possession were set free. The department of
health would set up dispensaries and treatment hospitals that would sell drugs at
wholesale value. By March 1940, the new dispensaries were in full swing.
According to the new head of drug addiction, Mexico Citys biggest dealer was
losing 2600 pesos a day. The popular clinic at 33 Sevilla, run by Dr. Martinez and
two assistants, served around 500 users. They included mechanics, carpenters,
construction workers, potters, bums, and petty thieves. Another, on Versailles,
catered to a more upmarket set of lawyers and doctors (Enciso 2013).
Mexican journalists and US antidrug agents continued to pursue their campaign
against the new regulations. Excelsior editorials claimed that the dispensaries were
centers of thousands of vices that kept no registry of drug users and served up
drugs to whoever came. But it was not angry editorials that would end the experi-
ment. With the announcement of the law, Anslinger immediately shut off shipments
of medical drugs to Mexico, claiming that the provision to users was not what the
US understood by medical use, and that the new regulations violated the 1931
Geneva Convention. The new head of the health department looked for some kind
of reconciliation, but the US refused. Instead, the US State Department suggested
that Mexico use the excuse of the shortage of narcotics generated by the outbreak of
war to quietly shelve the program. In September 1940, the Mexican government
agreed, reinstating the Penal Code of 1931 (Astorga 2003; Walker 1989).
The New Status Quo, 19401960
During the early 1940s, World War II disrupted the USs traditional heroin routes
from Europe and Asia. Mexican producers took up the slack. In Tijuana, the police
chief described, thousands of delinquent army veterans invading the city looking
for opium and heroin. Although some opium was still imported, Mexican farmers in
the mountains spanning Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Durango now dominated the
trade. According to a government agent, who visited Sinaloa in 1947, there
[were] many poppy plantations in the valleys and great quantities of opium
[were] exported to satisfy demand in [Mexico] and the US (Inspector 1947).
During the late 1940s, Italian, and then Turkish opium imports cut into the Mexican
market, but the industry was now well established. In 1952, bumper crops of
Mexican opium cut prices in the US Southwest by 75 %. And, although US
underworld traffickers often transported the drugs, large-scale dealers, like Ignacia
Jasso AKA La Nacha in Ciudad Juarez, Manuel Macias in Culiacan, and
Onesimo Rivera Carrera in Tijuana had substantial footholds in both border and US
markets. Away from the border, Mexico City still had a market in marijuana and
harder drugs. Here, Mara Dolores Estevez Zuleta AKA Lola la Chata ran much
of the trade from her base around the Merced market, providing drugs to Mexican
users and occasional foreign visitors. And, outside the capital, there were much
smaller marijuana markets in the provincial cities, where entrepreneurial peasants
provided for users and bohemians (Astorga 2003)
During the 1940s and 1950s, the Mexican government fell into a pattern of
occasional bilateral cooperation, heavy-handed repression, ineffective eradication
campaigns, and off-the-books grey zone deals. Bilateral cooperation often
depended on the relationship between individual Mexican authorities and US
antidrug forces. Juan Felipe Rico, the head of Baja California between 1944 and
1946, was keen to eradicate trafficking at the border and expressed to US authorities
his sincere desire to eradicate all traces of drug trafficking in the state. On taking
control, he appointed a pro-US cop, Jose Escudero Andrade, to head the state
police. Between early 1944 and March 1945, Escudero cooperated with US customs
agents to decommission 45.5 k of opium, 18 k of marijuana and 1181 marijuana
cigarettes. He also arrested 161 traffickers, including the notorious US trafficker,
Max Cossman (Astorga 2003, pp. 4351).
Beyond these sporadic bursts of bilateral cooperation, US pressure also sparked
two federal surges in Mexican antidrug efforts. In 1945, partly as a result of
Anslingers insistence and partly as a result of Ricos friendship with President
Avila Camacho, the Mexican government suspended guarantees for drug traffickers
and permitted the immediate detention of smugglers to the Islas Marias prison
colony. Further decrees targeted two high profile female traffickers, La Nacha and
Lola la Chata (Carey 2014, p. 121). Two years later, US pressure again forced
Mexico to clamp down. In 1947, Ansliger announced to the UN that, the culti-
vation of opium poppy in Mexico, although prohibited by Mexican law, appears to
be tolerated by the state and local authorities. Mexican representatives replied that
complete poppy eradication was impossible because of the relatively high price
paid to peasants for raw opium. But, the following year, the Mexican authorities
complied. National newspapers ran exposes that revealed the links between north-
ern governors and major traffickers to soften up public opinion, and in early 1948,
the authorities introduced a Gran Campa~na against drugs. The campaign involved
the manual destruction of thousands of poppy plants and the arrest of a handful of
producers. It went beyond the usual charade. Even Anslinger was impressed, noting
in late 1949, that seizures of Mexican brown heroin had decreased (Astorga 2003,
pp. 266277).
Despite these efforts, antidrug efforts during the 1940s and 1950s were relatively
weak. Eradication campaigns, which ran most years and targeted the poppy grow-
ing regions of Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Durango, were short, poorly funded,
understaffed, included minimal arrests, and often destroyed fields that had already
been harvested for opium gum. One US official who accompanied the antidrug
drive in Durango in June 1944 reported that the campaign comprised a handful of
health department officials and just 23 soldiers. After 3 days on horseback, the
44 B.T. Smith
group finally came across a series of poppy fields but, because they had taken so
long to arrive, the villages were deserted and the fields burned. A few soldiers made
a superficial effort to destroy a few of the remaining, probably harvested, fields,
while at least 20 stood guard against possible ambush. When the US agent asked the
health department official why they had not arrested the women who owned the
fields, the official replied that if [he] arrested those women, the natives would
ambush the troops along the trail (Walker 1989, pp. 225230).
Efforts to imprison traffickers were also ineffective. The federal judicial police,
charged with making drug arrests, was small. In 1956, there were 120 agents;
20 were stationed in Mexico City; most states only had around three. The temp-
tation for corruption was high as most agents earned 980 pesos per month or
about the same as a rural teacher. Even if traffickers were arrested, the legal system
also worked against long-term imprisonment. Established traffickers like Max
Crossman, Lola la Chata or La Nacha were given short sentences. Lola la Chata
was imprisoned and released seven times between 1934 and 1945. Furthermore, if
sentences were under 5 years, traffickers had the right to apply for an amparo,
which let inmates out of prison and prevented their future arrest. (When La Nacha
visited Ciudad Juarez in the 1950s, she always carried her certificate of amparo to
avoid detention.) Finally, the prison system also did little to avert continued
trafficking. Escapes, like those of Sinaloa hit man Rodolfo Valdez El Gitano in
1949, and Max Crossman in 1950, were frequent. And experienced, well-connected
dealers like Lola la Chata and La Nacha could often deal freely from inside jail.
Lola la Chata allegedly even built her own airstrip on the penal colony of Islas
Marias (Carey 2014; Astorga 2003).
If post-war public policy was relatively weak, grey zone policy was vigorous.
The secret service or Direccion Federal de Seguridad (the Federal Security
Ministry [DFS]) took a leading role. In late 1946, President Alemans close friend
and adviser Carlos Serrano established the organization with the help of the FBI,
and placed former Mexico City cop, Marcelino Inurreta, and wealthy politician,
Juan Ramon Gurrola, in charge. According to the US military attache, both were
involve[d] in dope-smuggling activities (Niblo 1999, pp. 259260). Just a year
earlier, Gurrola nephew had been busted driving Serranos Cadillac over the US
border with 64 cans of opium. And, in his interviews with US officials, Gurrola was
caught bragging that he had shaken down Treasury agents for information on the
Mexican drug trade which would assist him in his illicit dope operations. Grad-
ually, more evidence linking the DFS to drug smuggling leaked out. Serrano
repeatedly demanded the return of his Cadillac, forced the attorney generals
brother to leave the country, and threatened to sue US journalists who had revealed
the story in the press. One US official described the DFS as nothing but a Gestapo
organization under another name (Niblo 1999, pp. 259260). Although official
accusations against the DFS declined, rumors linking Serrano to the international
drug trade continued well into the 1960s. In 1962, a US anthropologist working on
the Veracruz coast reported that Serrano and a federal prosecutor, Felipe Corral,
had been entrusted with cracking down on smuggling in Sonora and Baja Cali-
fornia. After eliminating the competition, Serrano and Corral went into the trade
themselves, using a network of caciques to bring in drugs through Veracruz and

then transporting them up to the border (Genz 1975).
Outside the DFS, the government also employed a series of shifting,
decentralized grey zone pacts throughout the northern Mexican states. Here, they
worked as much to pay off key political groups as line officials pockets. In Sinaloa,
the drug industry, not agrarian reform, was central to political and social equili-
brium. Peasants, encouraged to supplement their incomes with sales of opium or
marijuana, were dissuaded from aggressive land reform. Large landowners,
funded by laundered drug money and free from the threat of expropriation, could
extend their lands; and middle farmers could channel their entrepreneurial skills
to become major smugglers. Political protection was crucial, and accusations of
state-trafficker complicity were frequent. In 1947, newspapers described governor
Pablo Macias Valenzuela as one of the leaders of the band of drug traffickers and
head of the malevolent, perverse and inept authorities that has converted [the state]
into a den of vices (Smith 2013, p. 158). Although the more savvy governors of
1950s and 1960s tended to keep a lower profile, links with crime continued. Gabriel
Leyva Velazquez was close to trafficker Pedro Aviles Perez whom he offered help
and advice in exchange for a percentage of the drug harvest (Smith 2013, p. 158).
His successor, Leopoldo Sanchez Celis, was similarly involved and employed drug
traffickers including El Gitano (whom he had released from prison), and future
Guadalajara cartel head, Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo (whom he employed as a
bodyguard). The Mexican secret service described Sanchez Celis as running a
group linked to the large drug dealers of the state (Smith 2013, p. 158).
The authorities of Sinaloa were not alone. Up on the border, governors aped
Cantus scheme, protecting select local dealers, shaking others down for money,
and reselling confiscated drugs. In Chihuahua, US agents reported that the gover-
nor, Oscar Soto Maynez, used local police to extract between $5000 and $7000 per
week from Ciudad Juarezs drug dealers as protection money. The scheme made
Soto extremely rich. According to the FBI, he had a luxurious cabaret, six
Cadillacs, and bank accounts in Europe and the US. Finally, beyond state gover-
nors, military personnel stationed in Mexicos hundreds of small rural barracks
were also involved in protecting the production side of the trade. During the 1940s,
Major Gorgonio Acu~na was the go-between between growers in his hometown of
Mutates (Durango) and US bulk purchasers from Los Angeles who bought the
opium at $1000 pesos per kg (Astorga 2003, p. 90; Walker 1989, p. 208).
The Counterculture and the First War on Drugs, 19601980
The counterculture changed the drug markets in the US and Mexico dramatically.
In the US, the use of marijuana, hallucinogens, and heroin soared; during the
following decade, markets in cocaine and amphetamines also rose. This growing
transnational market transformed the Mexican trade forever. According to DEA
estimates, by 1975, Mexico provided up to 95 % of the USs marijuana. At the same
46 B.T. Smith
time, with the crippling of the Turkish-French route, the Mexican share of the
heroin market also increased. In 1969 Mexico provided 15 % of US heroin. In 1972,
the proportion had jumped to 40 %. Three years later, it had climbed to 90 % of the
US trade. By the mid 1970s, traffickers were also transporting cocaine and
European amphetamines into the US. Between the presidencies of Gustavo Daz
Ordaz and Luis Echeverria Alvarez, cash from drug exports increased from 2.4 to
15.8 % of total legal exports. The volume of trade also shifted the players involved.
During the 1960s, US beatnik and hippy entrepreneurs flooded south, linking up
with local intermediaries to buy marijuana and smuggle quantities up north. During
the 1970s, antidrug campaigns weeded out less connected, less violent smugglers,
and major narcotrafficantes like Sinaloa kingpins Jorge El Padrino Favela
Escobosa, Eduardo Lalo Fernandez, and Aviles controlled the trade. Finally,
increasing markets also changed the geography of the drug trade. Sinaloa, Chihua-
hua, and Durango lost their monopoly on production as peasants in the southern
states of Guerrero, Michoacan, Oaxaca, Puebla, Veracruz, and Morelos started to
grow drugs (Smith 2013, pp. 151153) At the same time, smugglers increasingly
used routes through Tamaulipas and into Texas. By the 1980, four plane-loads of
cannabis flew out of Tuxtepec into Matamoros each week (Osorno 2012, p. 215).
The counterculture also changed drug use within Mexico itself. During the early
1960s, US beatniks followed Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs paths down to
southern Mexico, where they experimented with both marijuana (which Kerouac
had described as readily available) and LSD. In 1963, some of Timothy Learys
acolytes set up by Lake Chapala and investigated the effects of LSD, even briefly
roping in doctors from the Medical School in Guadalajara to run trials (Kamstra
1974, pp. 110111). During this early period, Mexican drug use changed little.
Middle-class Mexico City rock n rollers listened to Spanish versions of US songs
in an atmosphere of healthy entertainment, unmarred by drugs or excessive
drinking. But, starting in the mid-1960s, the atmosphere changed as drugs, parti-
cularly marijuana, entered the Mexican counterculture scene (Zolov 1999, p. 99).
Novels by Onda authors like Gustavo Sainz, Parmenides Garca Salda~na, and
Margarita Dalton openly alluded to drug taking (Sainz 1968; Garca 1968; Dalton
1968). By the end of the 1960s, Mexican jipis joined disoriented, eccentric,
ridiculously dressed foreigners in a pilgrimage to take hallucinogenic mushrooms
in Huautla de Jimenez (Zolov 1999, p. 108). During the 1970s, drug use extended
beyond the self-consciously Bohemian middle class. Mexico City studies pointed to
relatively widespread drug use among a wide range of young people. Luis
Rodrguez Manzanera found that 15 % of high school students had tried drugs
once and 20 % had experimented relatively regularly over the past 6 months. Of
these, 64 % had smoked marijuana, 15 % had taken pills, particularly Benzedrine,
and 4 % had tried inhalants (Rodrguez Manzanera 1974, pp. 2021).
In response to rising drug use, US presidents increasingly tried to force the
Mexican authorities to take a harder line against producers and traffickers. During
the early 1960s, Kennedys advisers admitted that Mexican traffic was negligible
in the over-all US narcotics picture, and that drug eradication programs were
basically unpopular among many local officials (Presidents Trip 1962). As a
result, US authorities stressed a toned down bilateral approach. But, by the late
1960s, Nixons administration stepped up the pressure. In September 1969, the US
government announced Operation Intercept, a month long stop-and-search cam-
paign on the US border. On the surface, the plan was an abject failure: few drugs
were found, a handful of minor smugglers were arrested, and US-Mexican relations
hit a new low. But, as one FBI agent remarked, in fact, US authorities got what they
wanted: For diplomatic reasons the true purpose of the exercise was never
revealed. . .. it was an exercise in international extortion, pure, simple and effective,
designed to bend Mexico to our will (Carey 2014, p. 245). The Mexican govern-
ment, which had held out against a large-scale drug eradication program, was
forced to sign up to Operation Cooperation. Backed by the threat of another border
initiative, the US cajoled Mexican authorities towards stiffer measures against drug
production and trafficking. Often, negotiations took place behind closed doors.
Here, US authorities used threats of another Operation Intercept, immigration
controls, and links between drug money and guerrilla insurgency to force the
government to toe the US line. But, as antidrug zeal became a vote winner, US
politicians also took to leaking critical information in the US and Mexican press
(Kissinger Cables 1974, 1975).
External pressure was critical to Mexicos first War on Drugs. But, internal
cultural associations that linked drug taking to foreign influence and the youth
problem, both pushed Mexican authorities towards stricter public policies and also
broadly legitimized this approach. During the 1960s, conservative commentators
railed against the contamination caused by US drug-taking beatniks and hippies.
Capturing the mood, the August 1969 cover for Jueves de Excelsior pictured a man
sweeping hippies across the border with a broom (Zolov 1999, p. 143). At the same
time, conservative commentators also linked homegrown youth movements to drug
abuse. After 1968, the anonymous right-wing pamphlet, El Mondrigo, claimed that
students were intoxicated by drugs provided by their intellectual leaders who had
encouraged them to try marvellous cocaine powders, the mysterious opium pipe,
the sweet pill of Hindu hashish, LSD, hallucinogenic mushrooms or cotton impreg-
nated with ether (Scherer Garcia and Monsivais 2003, p. 130). By the 1970s,
conservative associations had filtered through to Mexican psychologists who
reinvigorated nineteenth century discourses of racial degeneration, arguing that
the modern world had disrupted the natural development of adolescents, causing a
raft of psychological pathologies that in turn led to juvenile delinquency, the use
and abuse of intoxicants and homosexuality. For national drug expert Dr. Ernesto
Lammoglia, drug addiction was mental genocide. For commentators, it was
collective suicide, a threat to the moral and material interests of our society,
even the conservation of our species (Amaral 2012, p. 66).
US pressure and Mexican conservative discourses pushed the governments of
President Echeverria and Lopez Portillo towards a three-pronged approach that
targeted peasant producers, traffickers, and young users. During the early 1970s,
President Echeverria initiated Operation Canador, a nationwide military operation
designed to seek out and eradicate Mexicos drug crops. By 1975, US-funded
helicopters and planes were flying over the marijuana and opium growing regions
48 B.T. Smith
of Sinaloa, Sonora, Chihuahua, Durango, Oaxaca, and Guerrero, identifying crops,

and flying in soldiers and DEA agents to burn the plants, capture the growers, and
destroy potential laboratories. The following year, Jose Lopez Portillo sought to
cement U.S. support through a more focused crusade, Operation Condor. Echoing
US campaigners martial rhetoric, the Minister of Defense called this new program
a war to the death. In January 1977, 2300 soldiers and 200 members of the federal
police descended on the northwestern states of Sinaloa, Durango, and Chihuahua.
Over the next 2 years, new military planes and helicopters would fly missions over
the Sierra Madre Occidental, locating and spraying herbicides onto prospective
marijuana and poppy cultivations. Military garrisons stationed in the mountains
made intermittent raids on regions of perceived drug production. At the same time,
authorities also arrested traffickers (Smith 2013). They started with the small fry:
minor Mexican traffickers, a handful of Colombian and Chilean cocaine dealers,
and over 500 US smugglers. A handful of the major Sinaloa dealers, including
Badiraguato boss Pedro Aviles Perez and Mazatlan kingpin Manuel Salcido
Uzueta, El Cochiloco, were also busted, but used amparos to escape the charges
(Astorga 1995, p. 88). As a result, in 1974, Echeverria introduced a new penal code,
which imposed imprisonment for over 5 years for all trafficking charges. The new
code eliminated the ability of smugglers to post bail (Kissinger Cables 1975). Over
the next 4 years, judicial police and the DFS, often helped by US intelligence,
captured major traffickers like Alberto Sicilia Falcon, Eduardo Lalo Fernandez,
and Jorge Favela Escobosa. Others, like Aviles, went down in a hail of bullets
(Cerebro del Narcotrafico Internacional, capturado 1976; Balacera Entre
traficantes 1978).
If the Mexican authorities used military and judicial force to take on Mexican
traffickers, they had a different solution for the (mostly middle class) users. Here,
they sweetened the pill by beginning to use education, surveillance, and psycho-
logical treatment. Universities established classes designed to educate students
about the dangers of narcotics, and the health department sent out thousands of
instructive pamphlets to teachers and parents (Noticias de la Universidad 1974).
Finally, the health department joined up with the journalist Kena Moreno and the
Damas Publicista y Asociados, a private organization made up of female publicists
and media workers, to establish drug rehabilitation clinics aimed at youth. By 1976,
the organization had 30 units throughout Mexico. The establishments aimed to help
young users through a blend of psychiatric treatment, psychological help, and
physical work (Amaral 2012, p. 72).
At the time, commentators deemed the first war on drugs a major success.
Mexican soldiers destroyed thousands of hectares of marijuana and poppy fields,
captured or killed a handful of major traffickers, and reduced the Mexican heroin
entering the US. But public drug policy disguised a another grey zone deal, which
this time crippled the old, decentralized trafficking networks and established a new,
more centralized system in its place. During the early 1970s, DFS agents teamed up
with a younger group of Sinaloa traffickers, led by Felix Gallardo, to push out rival
traffickers and solidify their grip on the trade. They formed the Guadalajara cartel.
From the late-1970s onwards, they brought order to Mexicos drug trade, targeting
rival gangs, organizing the production and importation of drugs, divvying up

transport routes or plazas among loyal traffickers, and protecting their smugglers
from police interference or press exposure. Only in the mid-1980s, did the com-
plicity between the DFS and the Guadalajara cartel emerge (Serrano 2009).
Conclusion
During the twentieth century, Mexican public drug policy has encompassed both
hardline prohibition and state-run regulation. Undoubtedly, US pressure has
molded Mexican approaches, forcing Cardenas to give up the 1940 experiment
and cajoling Echeverria to take a stricter stance towards trafficking during the
1970s. However, endogenous Mexican beliefs, linking drug use to foreign contam-
ination, indigenous customs, youth rebellion, criminality, and insanity have also
played an important role in creating and justifying these antidrug policies.
Mexicos experiment with forming a state drug monopoly is clearly of great
interest. Just 3 years after the US passed the Marijuana Tax Act, Mexico effectively
legalized heroin, cocaine, and marijuana. The experiments radicalism, however,
lay not simply in legalization, but also in the introduction of a state monopoly
designed to undercut criminal dealers and in readily available state-run treatment.
As a result, it resembled the recent Uruguayan trial much more than the recent US
experiments. In Colorado and Washington, legalization has simply established a
two tier market, one legal and for the middle class, one illegal and for the poor.
Beyond public policy, the Mexican government has also run another, parallel
drug policy of grey zone deals, designed to bring stability by allowing local
authorities to protect drug producing and drug trafficking groups. At first, these
pacts rested on local authorities, zone commanders, and governors in border areas
and regions of drug production in the Northwest. But, by the 1970s, the system
centralized. One agreement, controlled by the Mexican secret service agency,
covered the entire country.
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the precursors]. Guadalajara: UAG.
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California Press.
Chapter 4
Drug Policy in Guatemala: Constraints
and Opportunities
Amanda Feilding and Juan Fernandez Ochoa
Guatemalas central role in the global drug policy debate is rightly seen by many as
a triumph of rational governance, but the path that led the country to become a
leading voice on this issue is also an indictment of Prohibitionism and its War on
Drugs. Some 30 years ago, the country entered the eleventh hour of a cruel civil
strife that led to about 200,000 deaths (mostly civilians, peasants, and indigenous
people). The end of the internal conflict hinted at a difficult yet necessary transition
towards democracy and, it was hoped, the reconstruction of a torn social fabric.
However, the situation was very different. When the long-awaited transition
finally arrived, it was not the move from war to peace, but from civil war to the
War on Drugs, in which the United States also played a major role. As with
elsewhere in Latin America, the violent repression of vast numbers of people in the
name of drug control has had devastating effects for Guatemala. For 30 years, the
response had been the same: to fight fire with fire. Nowadays, the voices against the
catastrophic failures of prohibitionism grow all over the world. The pioneers of
reform, however, have usually emerged from universities, civil society or are
retired civil servants. This is why the sharply radical discourse of President Otto
Perez Molina, a sitting president, is remarkable and attracts so much attention. We
are witnessing history in the making.
While Guatemalas policy shift is anchored in the countrys history, reform is
very much an ongoing development. Although enlightening, most analyses of the
issue tend to be piecemeal. For this reason, an all-encompassing account of this
ongoing turnaround can add value to our understanding of the topic. In the follow-
ing, we offer an updated overview of Guatemalas movement towards drug policy
reform, its origins, its achievements, and its likely limitations.
A. Feilding (*) J.F. Ochoa

The Beckley Foundation, Beckley Park, Oxford OX3 9SY, UK
e-mail: amanda@beckleyfoundation.org; juan@beckleyfoundation.org

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_4
54 A. Feilding and J.F. Ochoa
The Drug Problem in Guatemala
During the last decade, Guatemala has become a pivotal way station for the
trafficking of cocaine and, to a lesser extent, a center of production for other
psychoactive substances.1 While the countrys geographical location, midway
between the drug-producing Andes and the drug-consuming North, helps explain
this phenomenon, the boom of the illegal industry owes more to a complex
interaction of external and internal factors.
Guatemalas location has favored the countrys role as a bridge for drug
trafficking (Bunck and Fowler 2012). Indeed, the countrys porous borderline
with Mexico and extensive, yet poorly patrolled, dual maritime coastline makes it
an ideal passageway for the traffic of people, arms, and drugs (Isacson et al. 2014).
In addition to this, the country has vast, sparsely populated extensions of land where
the authority of the state is weak at best. In some of these areas, nature plays in favor
of illicit trafficking: the climate of the mountainous regions creates suitable condi-
tions for the cultivation of opium poppies and their topography hinders the recog-
nition of low-flying planes, while the vegetation of jungle regions hampers the
identification of illegal routes and landing strips (International Crisis Group (ICG)
2011). Perhaps more importantly, the presence of transnational organized crime in
Guatemala is related to its extremely violent recent history and its impact on the
state and society. While organized crime emerges opportunistically in different
countries irrespective of their levels of development, countries with fragile
formal institutions affected by conflict are particularly vulnerable to it (Miraglia
et al. 2012, p. 4).
This is the case in Guatemala, where an internal conflict shaped by Cold War
geopolitics resulted in the deaths of over 200,000 people between 1954 and 1996
(Streeter 2006). The war created a social fracture that intersected with the drug
trade in numerous ways (Bunck and Fowler 2012, p.195). On one hand, it created
deep rifts between the land-owning government elites (associated with the states
military power) and the rural, marginalized, and, often, indigenous populations,2
which has weakened the states legitimacy and authority.
On the other hand, the war drove resources away from counter-drug initiatives to
focus on the counterinsurgency strategy (Bunck and Fowler 2012). Towards the end
of the civil war, elements of the countrys over-inflated security apparatus, whether
formal (armed forces, police) or semi-formal (paramilitary) came to constitute the
core of new crime groups, including drug-trafficking organizations (Richani 2010,
p. 445).
The result was a fragile state; a state in which national and local authorities
are incapable of delivering crucial public goods, such as safety, security, and other
1
The countrys role in the production of opium and amphetamines will be dealt with in more depth
in the next section.
2
The report by the Historical Clarification Commission, published in 1999, concluded that 93 % of
the human rights violations were perpetrated by the Armed Forces.
4 Drug Policy in Guatemala: Constraints and Opportunities 55
basic services and whose authority and legitimacy was weak or broken (Miraglia
et al. 2012, p. 5; Nay 2013). This context favored the involvement and expansion of
drug trafficking organizations in the country. While cocaine prohibition can trace
its roots to the beginning of the twentieth century in the US (19001920), it was not
until the beginning of the 1950s that cross-border trafficking circuits began to
emerge linking up thousands of coca farmers of the eastern Andes to crude labs,
organized trafficking rings, and a bustling retailer diaspora in consuming hotspots
like New York and Miami (Gootenberg 2008, p. 245).
The involvement of Central America in this primitive illicit market was negli-
gible. While the dynamics of the illicit trade varied between the 1950s and the
1980s, the preferred routes went from Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia, to Chile or
Brazilalthough the US-backed coup detats in Brazil (1964) and Chile (1973)
shifted cocaine trafficking away from these countries and into Colombiaand then
further north directly to the United States or via pit-stops in Panama, Mexico or the
Caribbean (initially Cuba, then Jamaica, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas)
(Gootenberg 2008; Griffith 1997).
In 1986, alarmed by increasing numbers of crack-cocaine users, but also moti-
vated by domestic public attitudes (Carpenter 2003), President Ronald Reagan
declared illicit drugs a national security threat (Rosin and Youngers 2004). Inter-
nationally, this translated into a hardline stance on drug control, with increased
funding for supply-reduction and interdiction efforts. In the Caribbean, the US
dramatically boosted military instruments, including direct military presence,
increased military sales, aid, and training, expanded intelligence operation, and
regular high-profile military maneuvers (Griffith 1996, p. 5). Regional organiza-
tions and national governments followed and supported the American efforts,
agreeing on the need to toughen drug policies (Beruff and Cordero 2004). As a
result, the established Caribbean routes used by the Medellin and Cali cartels in
the 1970s and early 1980s were essentially closed down (Bagley 2013, p. 106).
Despite this partial victory, drug trafficking quickly reconfigured, this time
through Panama and Central America. Guatemalan authorities, who, in 1988, had
seized less than a ton of cocaine, suddenly were confronted with over 15 tons
annually (Bunck and Fowler 2012).
The reconfiguration of trafficking routes that we have just described and, espe-
cially, international pressures to tighten drug policy, led many Latin American
countries to translate Prohibition into their domestic legislation. In Guatemala, the
scope of the law significantly expanded, going from sanctioning disorderly conduct
as a result of intoxication to an independent punitive architecture criminalizing all
aspects of drug supply and demand.
The Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs of 1961, signed under the auspices of
the UN, consolidated a global drug prohibition regime that had been forming
since the first international treaty on drug control was agreed to in 1912. The
rationale for this regime is a concern for the health and welfare of mankind,
which is assumed to be endangered by the potential for harm of certain psychoac-
tive substances, and in particular their non-medical use. With the objective of
reducing these harms, the Single Convention, and the following conventions of
1971 and 1988, designed a system in which commodity and penal controls are
expected to reduce the size of the (illicit) market of these controlled substances.
The United Nations Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances (1988) marked an increase in the repressiveness of this
regime by exhorting signatories to criminalize possession for personal consump-
tionsubject to the [countrys] constitutional principles and the basic concepts of
its legal systemand explicitly mandating it in cases of supply and possession
with the intent to supply. Partially as a result of this, countries that until then had not
looked into the issue of possession with particular detail were suddenly obliged to
transpose the international agreement into domestic (penal) law. A year after
Guatemala ratified the 1988 United Nations Convention, a brand new Anti-
Narcotics Act (Ley Contra la Narcoactividad de 1992 [1992 Law Against Drug
Trafficking]) came into effect.
Before the Anti-Narcotics Act of 1992, there was no single legal instrument
dedicated to drug control in Guatemala. Instead, the countrys Health Code defined
the different controlled substances, plants, and chemical precursors, while pro-
visions in the Penal Code (1973) stipulated the different avenues to punish their
cultivation, trafficking, and supply through criminal prosecution and administrative
fines. However, possession for personal consumption was not criminalized unless
the individual was found in a state of intoxication in the public space, which was
considered an act against public morals.
The anti-narcotics legislation of 1992 consolidated existing norms and expanded
the remit and severity of the domestic control regime. The law established the
following different forms of punishment for drug-related crimes: death penalty,3
prison,4 fine, bans from taking public office, confiscation, and expulsion orders for
foreign citizens (art. 12). Moreover, this law makes possession for personal con-
sumption a criminal act, punishable by between 4 months and 2 years of imprison-
ment and a fine ranging between 100 and 200,000 quetzals (roughly $1328,000).
However, the distinction between possession for personal consumption and
possession with the intent to supply is not specified by the law beyond the
vague statement that the amount should not exceed what could be reasonably
considered for immediate consumption (art. 39). This opens the door for incon-
sistencies and abuses in the interpretation of the law by the judges (Reynolds 2012).
The law has not been able to stem the flow of illicit drugs. The countrys illicit
market has constantly grown since the end of the 1990s. Beyond the transit of
cocaine, Guatemala now faces challenges related to the production of opium poppy,
cannabis, and amphetamine-like stimulants. Even more worrying, problematic
internal consumption of illicit and unregulated substances might be increasing.
3
Inexistent in the previous regime, although applicable only if the crime causes the death of one or
more individuals (art. 52).
4
In the previous situation, the maximum prison penalty was of 7 years (for international traffick-
ing). The new law raises it to up to 20 years (art. 35).
The limited institutional capacity of the Guatemalan state hinders precise esti-
mations of the dimensions of the areas of cultivation of plant-based drugs, such as
cannabis and poppy, which are usually found in border and rural regions alongside
other agricultural products for self-subsistence (Feilding and Giacomello 2013a,
p. 15). However, official reports suggest that increases in seizures and eradicated
surface imply a growing cultivation capacity. The case of the opium poppy, mostly
located in the region of San Marcos, is of particular salience, given the sharp
increase of reported eradicated crops. According to different sources, the number
would have spiked from 489 ha in 2005 to some 2500 ha in 2013 (Ministerio de
Gobernaci on de Guatemala 2014; United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime
[UNODC] 2013).
Besides plant-based production, Guatemala now produces amphetamine-like
stimulants, a consequence of increased interdiction efforts carried out in the
United States and Mexico in recent years (Feilding and Giacomello 2013a,
p. 36). Since 2008, the Guatemalan government has destroyed almost two dozen
clandestine laboratories located near the Mexican border and seizures of methyl-
amine and pseudoephedrine, chemical precursors for the fabrication of metham-
phetamine, have continued to increase.
Nevertheless, it is cocaine trafficking that constitutes the most profitable illicit
activity in Guatemala. The situation has changed dramatically since the mid-1980s,
when 75 % of cocaine seizures between South America and the United States
involved the Caribbean route (UNODC 2012). Some sources estimate that approx-
imately 86 % of the cocaine trafficked to the United States in the first half of 2013
first transited through the Mexico-Central America corridor, with as much as 80 %
of that amount transiting Guatemala (United States Department of State 2014).
The means and methods used in the transshipment of illicit drugs have also
diversified, complicating law enforcement. Human containers (mules), fast
speedboats, fishing vessels, freighters, self-propelled semi-submersible vessels,
trucks, and light aircraft are some of the means used to transport the illicit cargo
to the North (Feilding and Giacomello 2013a).
In terms of domestic consumption, statistical data is not extremely reliable and
there are great discrepancies between the numbers provided by national, regional,
and international organizations. However, most reports signal an increase in prev-
alence rates both in the general population and by youth. The most consumed
substance is cannabis, followed by cocaine, amphetamines, and opioids.
Organized crime and drug trafficking have existed in Guatemala since at least
the 1960s, intimately related to the beginning of the Guatemalan internal conflict
but also the increased production by Andean countries and the beginning of the War
on Drugs (Comision Nacional para la Reforma de la Poltica de Drogas 2014). The
drug trafficking networks that bridged Guatemala and Miami were originally
structured by Cuban exiles. However, by the 1970s, the Medellin and Cali cartels
took over the business (Feilding and Giacomello 2013a).
The Cali cartel would come to dominate the majority of the trafficking opera-
tions in Guatemala by the end of the 1980s, and play a central role in the countrys
transformation into a key transit point during the first half of the 1990s (Bunck and
Fowler 2012). Nevertheless, the dismantlement of the two big Colombian cartels
towards the end of the 1990s (Bagley 2013) and the expansion of the drug flows
through the Central American corridor would foster the emergence of a new
criminal landscape composed of local groups with international connections,
Mexican cartels and street gangs, the latter mostly involved in local distribution
(Feilding and Giacomello 2013a, p. 27).
Among the local groups, the most important familias (drug-trafficking clans
structured by familial ties) have traditionally been the Mendoza (mostly in the
provinces of Izabal and Peten), the Lorenzana (Zacapa, Chiquimula, Izabal, El
Progreso, and Jalapa) and the Leon (mostly active in Zacapa but nowadays almost
disappeared). These patriarchal organizations, together with smaller ones and street
gangs (maras) have closely collaborated with large Mexican criminal organizations
that, capitalizing on Guatemalas proximity to Mexico and lesser law enforcement
capacity, have come to infiltrate, and sometimes replace, national organizations
(Feilding and Giacomello 2013a).
While the Sinaloa, Tijuana, Juarez, and Gulf cartels, as well as La Familia, have
been key players in Guatemalas drug trafficking business (Bunck and Fowler
2012), since 2007, the Zetas have become the most important and arguably prob-
lematic criminal organization in the country (Feilding and Giacomello 2013a).
Indeed, by forging alliances with local actors (elements of the familias, smaller
organizations, and former members of Guatemalas elite counter-insurgency, the
Kaibiles), they have come to control entire regions.
The illicit drug trade and the prohibitionist approach to drug control feed a
vicious circle of corruption, political instability, and violence that weakens the
social fabric and hinders development. Indeed, public authorities have played a
conspicuous role in different aspects of the drug trade. Police and custom and
migration officers, especially in ports, airports, and prisons, as well as civil servants,
judges, politicians, and members of the armed forces have benefited from their
involvement in the profitable illicit trade. While corruption is not a phenomenon
exclusive to Guatemala, it has contributed to a generalized climate of impunity and
mistrust towards state institutions.
Moreover, the states capacities are rivaled, and often overwhelmed, by criminal
organizations. Local police officers often feel helpless when attempting to control
traffickers who surpass them in money, firepower, and mobility (International Crisis
Group (ICG) 2011). Confrontation and violence are rife in Guatemala, most of it
driven by drug trafficking and the efforts to suppress it (Keefer et al. 2010). Partly
resulting from this, the countrys homicide rate is one of the highest worldwide5
(UNODC 2013).
In economic terms, the illicit drug trade and the fight against it have tremendous
costs. Violence, for example, has been estimated to represent losses amounting to
around 1.43 % of the Guatemalan annual gross domestic product (Rosal 2012).
5
At 39.9 homicides per 100,000 inhabitants, Guatemala is fifth, behind Honduras, Venezuela,
Belize, and El Salvador.
Moreover, the allocation of resources into law enforcement efforts and the resulting
incarceration of often young and economically deprived citizens challenges pro-
ductivity and perpetuates cycles of exclusion. This is particularly the case in
Guatemala, where trafficking-related penalties lead to a minimum of 12 years of
imprisonment, a disproportional amount if compared to the minimum of 3 years
associated with the crime of theft (Comision Nacional para la Reforma de la
Poltica de Drogas 2014).
Furthermore, the apparently growing local demand, and reported trends of
traffickers to pay partners and distributors in kind, might be stimulating a domestic
market (Grainger 2009). While better monitoring is necessary, the impact of rising
consumption in a climate of social vulnerability and limited social safety nets
(Pressly 2014) could have negative impacts on health and productivity; for instance,
increasing health harms, occupational accidents, and absenteeism (Singer 2008).
Finally, and often overlooked, is the environmental damage caused by the illicit
drug trade. Natural reserves, such as the Maya Biosphere Reserve in Guatemala, are
threatened by illegal ranching and logging by drug traffickers. Whether trying to
escape from the surveillance of state authorities through makeshift landing strips
and roads, or laundering capital by clearing forests to purchase and operate cattle
ranches, pastures, and plantations, narco-deforestation has risen dramatically in
Central America (McSweeney et al. 2014). The impact on biodiversity and ecosys-
tem services is yet to be duly assessed.
Towards Reform
The edifice of prohibition is crumbling. Latin America, which had for decades
submitted itself to the counterproductive (foreign) diktats of the War on Drugs, is
now spearheading a movement towards reform that opposes a repressive approach
to the drug issue. A consensus on the need for human-centered perspectives is
forming in its stead, articulated through a change in the rhetoric but also normative
innovations.
The rejection by Latin America of the drug policies pushed by the United States
is not a new phenomenon. In 1993, facing the increasing challenge of stemming
drug trafficking and consumption, Mexico voiced its disagreement with the unilat-
eral nature of the global drug control paradigm. In a letter to the United Nations
Secretary General, the government decried an unfair burden of responsibility on the
countries of the South, and demanded a review towards a balanced approach. The
Mexican initiative for a review, which came to be supported by Bolivia, Colombia,
and Peru, led to the UN General Assembly Special Session (UNGASS) on Drugs of
1998. While new voices joined the growing dissentcountries such as Australia,
Denmark, the Netherlands, Portugal, South Africa, and Switzerland; and organiza-
tions such as Interpol and the World Health Organizationthe diplomatic appara-
tus silenced any defeatism, instead compromising with the notions of shared
responsibility and alternative development, and renewing a commitment

towards a drug-free world (Jelsma 2003).
However, the realization that this objective was a utopia has expanded like
wildfire ever since. Rigorous calls from academics, businesspeople, and civil
society organizations to end the War on Drugs have multiplied across the globe,
and changing logics of appropriateness (March and Olsen 1998) have seen politi-
cians join the call for more evidence-based drug policies. The Latin American
Initiative on Drugs and Democracy, formed in 2009, was a reflection of this
conducive context, with new high-level groupings and declarations having crystal-
lized in the last few years in the form of the Vienna Declaration (2010), the Beckley
Foundations Public Letter (2011), and the Global Commission on Drug Policy
(2011).
The transition towards democracy in Guatemala has been a long and arduous
process that has brought to the surface the institutional weaknesses of the country.
The War on Drugs has not favored the situation as, by definition, it securitizes the
issue of drugs (Buzan and Wver 2009), creating obstacles for the normal enforce-
ment of the law by civilian powers (vs. the military, which systematically abused its
authority during the internal conflict). Nonetheless, progressive changes in the
rhetoric and practice have been undertaken in recent years.
The Peace Accords of 1996 made explicit an ambitious agenda towards increas-
ing civilian power, reforming the Armed Forces and strengthening democratic
governance. Progress was made on these objectives during the years following
the transition, especially during the governments of A lvaro Arzu (19962000) and
O scar Berger (20042008). Criminal networks existing within the military were
dismantled, the Policia Militar Ambulante (a mobile military unit) was
demobilized, and military officers were reduced from 45,0006 to about 15,000. In
parallel, a new National Civilian Police was created with 25,000 officers (ICG
2011; Spence 2004).
Nonetheless, while the Peace Accords formally ended the civil war, the War on
Drugs persisted. The year he assumed the presidency of Guatemala, A lvaro Arzu
expressed the need for the military to be more effective and efficient in fighting
narcotics, an objective that the United States was ready to support with maximum
cooperation (Rohter 1997; US Office of the Federal Register 1999). However,
direct military aid was only restored by the Bush administration in 2005, during the
Berger presidency in Guatemala, after 15 years of suspension due to human rights
concerns. That year, $3.2 million was pledged for the military to upgrade its
equipment, amid worries of increasing drug trafficking in Central America (Lobe
2005).
The US financial support for counter-drug and anti-crime initiatives in the region
was considerably boosted in 2008, with the launch of the Merida Initiative, a
package of assistance for Mexico and Central America. The latter component of
6
Some sources contend this number is an over-estimation, with 37,000 being closer to the reality
in 1996.
this instrument was separated into the Central American Regional Security Initia-
tive (CARSI) in 2010, with the financial commitment upgraded to $803.6 million
for the financial years 20082014 (Meyer and Seelke 2014). The CARSI has five
pillars, mostly related to building institutional capacities towards better governance
and improving security. The second pillar of the CARSI specifically focuses on the
fight against illicit trafficking in the region (including drugs, people, and weapons).
Guatemala has been the biggest beneficiary of this instrument and, although not all
projects have focused on counter-narcotic operations (Phillips 2014), it is only
recently that prevention and social cohesion are being emphasized, with most of the
implementation focused on beefing up the US military strategy in the region
(Leon-Escribano 2014).
Contextual factors, especially when they take the shape of rising drug-related
violence and drug flows, have contributed to the growing discontent towards
Prohibitionism. As recently as 2011, Guatemalan President, A lvaro Colom, echoed
this weariness on his regular radio show, Despacho Presidencial. Broadcasting
from the 66th Session of the UN General Assembly, in September 2011, he
complained, in reference to the prevailing counter-drug strategy: We cannot
keep shedding our blood and taking the bullets. However, his call fell short of
demanding a paradigm change, instead urging consumer countries to assume more
responsibility by intensifying international cooperation and demand-reduction
measures. That very same month, Otto Perez Molina won the second round of
Guatemalas presidential elections.
President Perez Molina arrived in power as a polemic figure. The first president
with a military background since the last military dictatorship ended in 1986, he
promised a mano dura (firm hand) approach to security during his campaign. While
this might have contributed to his electoral success in one of the most dangerous
countries in the world, it also worried those for whom the expression signified the
comeback of unscrupulous repression (Taft-Morales 2014). His participation in the
counterinsurgency campaigns of 1980 as a kaibil,7 and directorship of military
intelligence between 1992 and 1993, compounded these fears. However, Perez
Molina has surprised the public with his reformist and pragmatic stances, and in
no other area more than his viewpoint on drug policy.
From the beginning of his mandate, in January 2012, Perez Molina made a
courageous and outspoken call to tackle the drug issue as a priority. That same
month, following a meeting with presidents Juan Manuel Santos (Colombia) and
Felipe Calder on (Mexico), he became the first sitting president to call for a robust
rethink of the global drug strategy (Feilding 2014). In these very early stages of the
discussion, he also started conversations with the Beckley Foundation to explore
the practicalities of drug policy alternatives, leading to the publication of the report
Paths for Reform in January 2013. These initial ideas, including decriminalization,
were to be discussed in a meeting of Central American leaders in March. The
meeting of the Central American Integration System (SICA) took place March
7
The Kaibiles are an elite military unit specializing in jungle warfare and counterinsurgency.
24, 2012, in Guatemala and was named New Routes Against Drug Trafficking.
Reformist ideas would also resonate in other parts of the region, as the Uruguayan
case demonstrates (see the chapter by Garat, in this volume).
At the end of February, the US Secretary of Homeland Security, Janet
Napolitano, toured Mexico and Central America, stating: I would not agree with
the premise that the drug war is a failure (Grillo and Alire Garcia 2012). The
effects of the pressure from the United States were immediate. Indeed, in an
unusual turn of events, the presidents of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua
canceled their attendance on the eve of the meeting.
While the meeting, which was attended by the presidents of Costa Rica and
Panama, failed to achieve the expected consensus, the determination of the Guate-
malan president did not wane. In April, at the 6th Summit of the Americas, Perez
Molina restated the need for an inclusive debate to assess the effectiveness of
international drug policy. Despite the lack of a final resolution, this time, the leaders
of the region issued the Organization of American States a mandate to analyze the
results of the current [drug] policy in the Americas and to explore new approaches
to strengthen this struggle and to become more effective.
The report of the Organization of American States (OAS) on the Drug Problem
in the Americas, delivered in May 2013, recommended alternatives to incarcera-
tion, the reduction of sentences, a focus on rehabilitation, and the establishment of
drug courts. A month after the report was published, Guatemala hosted the 43th
General Assembly of the OAS. The resulting Declaration of Antigua mirrored
some of the recommendations of the report, calling countries to adapt drug policies
to national realities, place an accent on human rights and fundamental freedoms,
open the door to consider new approaches based on scientific evidence, and find
alternatives to incarceration. The principles of the Declaration were reaffirmed at
the 46 Special Session of the OAS General Assembly, which focused on drug policy
and was held in Guatemala City in September 2014.
All in all, President Otto Perez Molina has been instrumental in ushering a new
hemispheric consensus on drug policy, fostering international debate, and promot-
ing viewpoints that depart from the War on Drugs. Perez Molinas reformist stance
has not been limited to the international sphere. Nationally, the Guatemalan gov-
ernment has pursued partnerships and launched reviews that demonstrate a will-
ingness to move away from the policies of Prohibition.
A fruitful and enduring partnership was initiated in April 2012, when President
Perez Molina invited Amanda Feilding and the Beckley Foundation to open a
chapter in Guatemala and advise him on matters of drug policy reform. This
collaboration was formally inaugurated in July 2012, at an event where the presi-
dent became the first acting Head of Government to sign the Beckley Foundation
Public Letter. Since then, this collaboration has sought to: analyze the impact of
current prohibitionist drug policies on Guatemala and the wider region, develop and
propose a series of alternative drug policy options aimed at reducing the violence
and corruption suffered by Guatemala and other countries as a result of the current
policies, convene an Advisory Board with leading world experts from different
disciplines related to drug policy to assist in the development of proposals for

reforming national and international drug policies, raise Guatemalan and interna-
tional public awareness of the urgent need for drug policy reform, and facilitate
confidential, high-level drug policy deliberations among Heads of State and their
senior representatives.
The work of the Foundation in Guatemala translated into two influential reports
that were presented to the Guatemalan President and key advisors in January of
2013 and to national non-profit and civil society organizations in June of that year:
Illicit Drug Markets and Dimensions of Violence in Guatemala and Paths for
Reform: Proposed Options for Alternative Drug Policies in Guatemala. The
former, essentially diagnostic, offers a critical snapshot of the countrys main
socio-economic indicators, then describes the status of Guatemalas illicit drug
markets and the legal framework sanctioning drug-related crimes. The latter builds
on this evidence to suggest recommendations aiming to reform drug policy in order
to reduce the harms related to drugs and the illicit market.
The set of drug policy proposals formulated by the Report can be organized in
five main components: (1) Public engagement, to encourage debate and inform
citizens on drug policy issues and the best available evidence by forming a national
commission with this mandate; (2) Legislative reform, initially focusing on the
full decriminalization of drug possession and the examining the potential of
implementing a legal regulated market for cannabis; (3) Development of policy
protocols for prosecutors to prioritize violent and serious crime, to improve con-
sistency in the implementation of the law, and to increase trust in crime and justice
institutions; (4) Legalization of the currently illicit poppy crops for medical pur-
poses, and; (5) Discussion regarding the international traffic of cocaine, which
would explore different possibilities to reduce the negative impact of the illicit
market in the country and the region (Feilding and Giacomello 2013b).
These recommendations were received with enthusiasm by President Perez
Molina and are informing the development of more balanced national drug policies.
In this sense, during his participation at the World Economic Forum 2013 (Davos),
the Guatemalan president announced that the government was determined to
regulate poppy cultivation to tackle the growing phenomenon in the north of the
country, by the Mexican border. According to the Beckley report, the measure
would lead to a reduction in criminal activity and drug dependence and ensure
access to indispensable opioid medicines. Indeed, while developing countries
represent roughly 80 % of the global population, they account for 6 % of the
worlds morphine consumption. Establishing a legal system of cultivation would
guarantee access to essential medicines while providing a sustainable alternative
for farmers currently involved in illicit poppy cultivation and a revenue stream for
the country (Feilding and Giacomello 2013b). In 2014, after the conclusion of
the World Economic Forum 2014 (Panama), the President reiterated this commit-
ment and added that the regulation of the cannabis market, another proposition
of Beckley, was also within the scope of the Governments ongoing policy
assessment.
Given the magnitude of the tasks, it became evident that an even deeper process
of scoping, citizen participation, and policy definition was required. Thus, in
January 2014, President Perez Molina publicly launched the National Commission
for the Reform of Drug Policy (Comision Nacional para la Reforma de la Poltica de
Drogas 2014), an independent government body responsible for the evaluation of
the countrys drug policy and markets as well as the formulation of drug policies
that reduce drug-related problems from an integral, multidisciplinary perspective
that respects human rights and fundamental freedoms.
In September 2014, the Commission presented its preliminary report, which
resulted from a critical analysis of the problem of drugs in Guatemala. It comprises
information about illicit cultivation and consumption of controlled substances, the
legal and institutional framework on drug control, the recent evolution of drug
trafficking in the country, the capacities and needs of the public health system to
deal with problem drug use, and the situation of supply and demand throughout the
last years, among others.
While the report does not signal a radical change in terms of national drug
policyalthough it does make recommendations on the need to reallocate
resources into the public health sector, monitoring systems, policy impact assess-
ments, and so forthit raises fundamental points about drug policy governance and
ownership. One major point concerns the fact that pervasive gaps in knowledge,
resulting from the lack of a solid monitoring architecture providing market data on
the ground, make it impossible for Guatemalan authorities to accurately define the
countrys drug problem. Basic information about purity, price, prevalence, the
dynamics of criminal organizations, etc. that would help improve policies are either
contradictory or bluntly missing.
Similarly, and perhaps explaining the previous point, the report shows how drug
policies have been imported into the country: conceived and framed by external
powers and loosely implemented by national authorities through meager budgets. In
the words of the Commissions coordinator, Carlos Mendoza: The Guatemalan
state has not shown interest on drugs, and this situation led the issue to a state of
orphanship. This is why the United States appeared as a foster parent, it was very
interested in the topic and it defined the issue and offered solutions. Guatemala just
obeyed without actually assuming the costs of following strict prohibitionism
(Colmenares 2014, p.1).
After the publication of its preliminary report, the Commission has engaged a
broad process of dissemination and dialogue with different sectors of the Guate-
malan society (political parties, NGOs, university, churches, international cooper-
ation organizations, etc.). The feedback at this stage will serve as a basis for a final
report to be presented to President Perez Molina. This report would make recom-
mendations on the future of drug policy in Guatemala.
Against Change
As we have previously mentioned, the approach towards drug policy taken by

President Otto Perez Molinas government was as welcomed by some as it was
unexpected to most. Internationally, it has made him a figurehead of the drug policy
reform movement and, by and large, earned him high praise. Accounts of his views
often highlight his progressive, liberal, innovative and conciliatory stance. How-
ever, the initial impetus that characterized the first 2 years of his presidency, in
which he openly challenged international conventions by proposing radical options
such as the decriminalization of drug trafficking through Central America or the
regulation of all controlled substances, has somewhat diluted into what seems to be
a more conventional position. Indeed, on September 19, 2014, Foreign Minister
Raul Morales affirmed that the Guatemalan government would not legislate outside
of the United Nations Drug Conventions, dismissing the possibility of Uruguayan-
style regulation. Moreover, some have criticized not only certain inertia in terms
of reform, but actual decision-making that reinforces the punitive paradigm
(as represented by the participation of the military in domestic counterdrug policy).
We discuss three forms of path dependence that stifle drug policy change in
Guatemala.8
The first relates to a culture of national security that perpetuates the punitive
paradigm that underlies Prohibitionism and the War on Drugs. Indeed, despite the
promise of subsequent Guatemalan governments to contribute to healing the social
fabric by avoiding the use of military forces in public security, presidents A rzu,
Portillo, Berger, and now Perez Molina have all invoked article 244 of the Guate-
malan Constitution to involve the Armed Forces in internal security (Becerra
Gelover 2005). In fact, the electoral success of Perez Molina was partly the result
of his mano dura (firm hand) discourse, which vowed a frontal fight against
criminality and drug trafficking, making use of the elite corps of the Guatemalan
military (Taft-Morales 2014). The ascension to power of Perez Molina has trans-
lated his campaign promise into state policy, by which numerous retired and
serving military members have been placed at the highest rungs of bureaucracies
in charge of public safety (Hernandez Batres 2013). On repeated occasions, Perez
Molina has stressed his policies do not seek to encourage conflict, but to buttress
law enforcement and the rule of law (Rodrguez Pellecer 2011).
The involvement of the military in these activities has not stemmed drug
trafficking and related violence, however. If anything, it has accentuated a climate
of conflict and led to episodes of corruption and human rights violations. Numerous
reports confirm extrajudicial killings, the theft of considerable numbers of weapons
from military bases, and collaboration between corrupt military officials with
trafficking organizations such as the Zetas (Human Rights Watch 2014;
8
Beyond path dependences, many other factors could be explored: economic constraints, infor-
mation gaps, limited expertise in alternatives to law enforcement, etc. We hope this research will
stimulate further investigation into these.
Mesoamerican Working Group 2013; Rodrguez Pellecer 2011). These circum-

stances are particularly alarming in a country where segments of the Armed Forces
have historically been involved in illicit activities. Without radical paradigmatic
changes, including legislative and institutional ones, the legacy of a flawed system
of democratic oversight will continue to have pervasive negative echoes.
Another reason for the slow implementation of reform concerns the geopolitics
of drug policy. While the role of the United States in introducing Prohibitionism
made the US its most visible global champion, in few regions of the world has this
role had as strong an influence as in Central America. Guatemala exemplifies the
mix of hard and soft power deployed on the sub-region by the US.
US intervention in Guatemala came before the War on Drugs. From the begin-
ning of the twentieth century, powerful American companies took root in Guate-
mala and created a quasi-monopoly that asphyxiated the local economy and favored
the grip of the United States on national policy. The United Fruit Company (UFCO)
is a case in point. The company bribed and pressured politicians to gain favorable
concessions and political influence (Dosal 1993).
With the deterrent of a military mission, established in the country in 1920,
American power remained relatively unshaken until 1944. That year, a civil-
military alliance toppled the regime of pro-American dictator Jorge Ubico and
led to the election of Juan Jose Arevalo (elected in 1945), and then Jacobo A rbenz
(elected in 1951). Progressive, democratic, and anti-imperialistic, this popularly
acclaimed political current quickly became a menace to hegemony. Hence, the
UFCO appealed to the government of the United States to overthrow A rbenz, using
his alleged pro-Communist stances as pretext. As a result, a coup detat backed by
the US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) deposed A rbenz in 1954 and established
a military dictatorship. Through military and economic assistance, the US
supported repressive and anti-Communist governments in Guatemala until 1985.
The subordination of national policy to American diktats de-prioritized drug
policy in the national agenda, as most resources in terms of public security focused
on counterinsurgency. As a result, drug policy was merely imported and barely
translated to the local reality. While the end of the Cold War and the disappearance
of the red menace might have eroded the acceptability of direct coercion in the
region, subordination has persisted through soft power, in the form of values and
norms exported by the US into the country and internalized by a rather intransigent
elite (Coatsworth 1994).
This is partially related to our last point, which refers to opinions on reform.
While President Perez Molina has successfully changed the tone of the international
debate, clearly pointing towards reform, encroached perceptions against change,
held both by the elite and the general public, remain pervasive. In Guatemala, drugs
are still very much associated with deviancy and corruption, and the potential
benefits from decriminalization and the strict regulation of the market are obscured
by ideology. In this sense, the declarations of Manuel Baldizon, the leader of the
biggest party in opposition (LIDERRenewed Democratic Liberty), are telling.
According to him, the legal regulation of drugs would lead to the rotting of
society and the conversion of children into vice fiends. Members of other parties
have expressed support for reform, but the appetite for thorough reform is far from
being unanimously supported.
In the same way, the decades-long dissemination of information about the
dangers of drugsoften depicted as being inherent to the substances themselves,
without taking into account the users experience, social context or the legal
frameworkand reform by the United States and local governments has primed
the population against policy alternatives (Stambl 2012). In 2011, the
Latinobarometro survey found that 14 % of Guatemalans supported regulating
consumption as a means to curb drug trafficking, while 78.4 % opposed the measure
and 7.6 % was not sure (Latinobarometro 2011). Another survey, this time by CID
Gallup, carried out in 2012, revealed that 79 % opposed decriminalization, with
only 21 % supporting the measure (33 %, if only those with higher education were
taken into account) (Redaccion - El Periodico 2012). A process of public engage-
ment, one of the recommendations of the Beckley Report, is currently underway,
steered by the National Commission on Drug Policy Reform.
Concluding Remarks
The illicit drug market has ravaged a country whose democracy was barely forming
when the pernicious effects of the War on Drugs hit it in full swing. After almost
30 years of state inertia, something is changing in Guatemala. For some, the road to
change has been particularly slow. Indeed, this is not the revolution that some
awaited and others feared. In its place, there is a careful and steady process towards
assuming ownership of what has been for so long an externally driven policy.
The international consequences of this approach cannot be overstated. During
the first 3 years of his mandate, President Otto Perez Molina has greatly contributed
to placing the debate on global drug policy at the core of the discussions on the
hemispheric stage. The ripple effects of this are still hard to quantify, but it would
not be an exaggeration to say that other regions stare expectantly at the
Pan-American experiment and its results. Certainly, there are still many challenges
facing drug policy in Guatemala: the military reflex continues to be strong and
problematic; the countrys decisions are still bound by its obedience to dated and
rigid international conventions, corruption and impunity are still rife, the public
opinion is conservative and reluctant to change, and, maybe more importantly, a
question mark hangs over the exact nature and magnitude of the drug market in the
country.
However, and this is perhaps the biggest success of President Perez Molinas
reformist stance, the country is finally asking itself these questions. Instead of
looking for clues outside, it has started to look inside for answers. The future and
sustainability of this process of reclaiming sovereignty and moving ahead will now
depend on the capacity of leaders to involve society at large.
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Chapter 5
Ecuador: The Evolution of Drug Policies
in the Middle of the World
Ana Isabel Jacome and Carla Alvarez Velasco
Introduction
Located amidst the biggest coca producers in the world, Ecuador is a country that is
notable for its marginal production of the alkaloid, and also because it began its
activity in the productive complex of coca/cocaine as a transit country for drug
export, as a marketer of chemical precursors for its refinement, and as a money
laundering site. In spite of its secondary role, halfway through the 1980s, the
Ecuadorian state joined the War on Drugs through a foreign policy actively engaged
in the fight against drug trafficking, and through the establishment of the toughest
and strictest legal framework in all of Latin America. This all happened with the
endorsement of a conservative society whose discourses represent drugs as evil
substances that need to be confronted through repressive and punitive strategies,
and who resist attempts to decriminalize drug use.
Towards the first decade of the twenty-first century, both foreign and penal
politics went through an important turn. Externally, Ecuador went from an anxious
desire to benefit from the resources directed to the War on Drugs to a critical and
distant position towards the United States. At an internal level, the country switched
from the most draconian normative framework of Latin America to a new set of
laws that decriminalized drug use, adopted a proportional criteria in the
A.I. Jacome (*)

Departamento de Estudios Polticos, Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales Ecuador,
Calle La Pradera E7-174 y Av. Diego de Almagro, Quito, Ecuador
e-mail: ana.jacome@gmail.com
C. Alvarez Velasco
Departamento de Estudios Polticos, Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales Ecuador,
Calle La Pradera E7-174 y Av. Diego de Almagro, Quito, Ecuador
Instituto de Altos Estudios Nacionales, Av. Amazonas N37-271 y Villalengua, Quito, Ecuador
e-mail: morena_alvarez@yahoo.com

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_5
72 A.I. Jacome and C. Alvarez Velasco
establishment of sentences for drug-related crimes, and even opened the door (more
due to legal vacuums than will) for home growing. However, social representations
regarding the negative effects of drugs in all their dimensions remain almost intact
after more than three decades of war against them, something that can be seen in
day-to-day narratives as well as in the discourses of certain official actors, and even
in the existing contradictions within the State during implementation of the new
legal framework.
This article is divided in four sections. The first one corresponds to the historic
background, briefly telling of Ecuadors gradual involvement in prohibitionist logic
through its integration in a network of international regimes designed to control,
regulate, monitor, and restrict the commerce and consumption of drugs. The second
section explains Ecuadors alignment, throughout the 80s, with American politics,
in order to benefit from international aid programs aimed at drug trafficking
countries and how, internally, it achieved the necessary consensus to strengthen
its penal system, thus generating regrettable social consequences. The third section
describes the countrys distancing from American politics in regard to external
affairs, and the beginning of an effort to make internal laws more flexible, that
started with the adoption of a new Constitution in 2008, and has continued with the
recent implementation of the Integral Organic Penal Code (COIP). Finally, this text
closes with brief conclusions that aim to show the advantages of the current reform
process, and to warn of the internal contradictions that could slow it down.
Historical Background
Ecuador is an Andean country currently inhabited by 21 indigenous nationalities.

Prior to the colonial period that began in 1492 with the arrival of the Spaniards to the
American continent, the use of ritualistic drugs, such as coca leaf and ayahuasca, was
common and customary among them. Although this tradition constitutes an impor-
tant aspect of the local cultural history (Moreno 2006), at present, the ethno-medical
meanings have been exoticized and manipulated to benefit the tourism industry
(Hermida 2010). At the same time, in a parallel manner, the politics around Andean
hallucinogenic substance uses have been through highly repressive phases that are
just beginning to soften.
The prohibition logic towards drug use first appeared in the sixteenth century,
during the early colonial period, and it was linked to an economic-fiscal interest. In
fact, in 1573, a series of punitive measures to regulate coca leaf consumption were
established (Bonilla 1991), and they were promptly substituted by tax regulations in
order to obtain financial benefits for the crown. The adopted measures showed a
monetary interest; especially considering that, in Ecuador, neither use nor growth of
coca leaf represented a major issue, as it did for its neighbors Colombia, Peru, and
Bolivia, which later became great producers and exporters. Indeed, during the
colonial era, an international division of labor was established around the seven-
teenth century that specialized Ecuadorian labor in textile and agricultural goods
5 Ecuador: The Evolution of Drug Policies in the Middle of the World 73
and moved the coca crops towards the mining zones, thus exchanging coca leaf
consumption, socially related to mining, for alcohol (Bonilla 1991).
Later on, during the Royal Audience of Quito, a governmental unit of the
Spanish Empire created in 1563 that included territories that today belong to
Ecuador, Peru, Colombia, and Brazil, control over production and sales of alcoholic
beverages and tobacco showed its economic relevance. In Quito, in 1747, an order
was given to the mills to sell all their liquor production at 9 pesos per jug, which
was resold at 21 pesos. By 1765, this situation had generated the Quito Neighbor-
hoods Rebellion, to protest against the monopoly that the crown held over liquor
(Borchart and Moreno 1995). During that time, the rhetoric justified and tried to
legitimate the excessive controls (as well as the abusive imposing logic), especially
over tobacco, by referencing the health of consumers.
Ecuador entered the War on Drugs, as it is currently known, in the beginning of
the twentieth century. In 1934, during the presidency of Dr. Jose Maria Velasco
Ibarra (19341935), Ecuador ratified the United Nations Opium Convention, set in
1925, at a time in which drug use was not a priority for Ecuadorian society, contrary
to what was happening concurrently in the United States. In fact, the palpable
political instability, with frequent governmental and social changes, created a
context in which both drug use and the adoption of policies to control it were
absolutely not the main concern (Bonilla 1991).
Later on, in 1962, Ecuador ratified the Protocol for the control of synthetic
drugs, subscribed in 1948 in Paris. This international instrument submitted to
international control any drug that is declared dangerous by the World Health
Organization (Bonilla 1991), and it positioned the medical discourse as the defin-
itive legitimate voice of repressive policies, even though this still didnt match the
Ecuadorian reality. Two years later, in 1964, the country ratified the 1961 Single
Convention on Narcotic Drugs, which had the goal of unifying the international
legislation regarding supervision, control, and repression surrounding illicit drugs.
In the following decade, Ecuador ratified the Protocol Amending the Single
Convention on Narcotic Drugs, subscribed in 1972, with the objective to improve
the instruments that came from the Single Convention and to emphasize the need to
provide for adequate services of prevention, treatment, and rehabilitation (United
Nations Office on Drugs and Crime 2008). At the regional level, in the same
decade, the first Latin American regime on drugs was celebrated through the
South American Agreement on Narcotic and Psychotropic Substances, with the
aim of establishing general guidelines for scientific, legal, and administrative
cooperation, as well as setting principles for penal legislation in order to unify
prosecution policies for the production and illicit traffic of drugs (Bonilla 1991).
This agreement was also signed by Ecuador.
The framework of international regimes that surged across the twentieth century
preceded the conformation of a productive complex of coca-cocaine in the Andean
region, which began in the 1970s. Peru and Bolivia participated in this system as
producers and exporters of the alkaloid (Paez 1991a), while Colombia, with a
smaller amount of land for growing, took over the refinement and commercial-
ization for sale in the United States, gaining control over 80 % of the cocaine in this
market. Additionally, it became the main source of marijuana for North Americans,
a function that it stole from Mexico until around 1985 (Nadelmann 1989). Even
though Ecuador initially functioned as a small coca leaf producer, its cultivations
never expanded, due to lack of the necessary social foundation (Paez 1991a).
Nevertheless, the United States and the consecutive Ecuadorian governments
encouraged active participation of the country in the control and regulation mech-
anisms for the recently criminalized substances, especially halfway through the
80s. This involvement was defined, later on, by a more important role of the
country in the War on Drugs at an international levelalthough it never reached
its neighbors importanceand an excessively punitive attitude towards its own
society.
In the 1980s, the War on Drugs started to gain autonomy and relevance due to
the perception of an alarming increase of the use and abuse of drugs within the
United States. In 1982, President Reagan linked drug trafficking to American
National Security (National Security Archive 2003), marking an important shift
in the relations of Washington and Latin America, particularly with regard to the
Andean Region. Subsequently, the National Strategy for Drug Abuse and Traffic
Prevention, set in 1984, supported the idea that drug consumption had increased,
and legitimized what is now known as the War on Drugs and its specificities: a
focus on the fight against cocaine, which entailed a display of force in the Andean
Region (Del Olmo 1994), as well as a focus on decreasing the supply as a viable
restrictive mechanism (Bartolome 1999).
Ecuadors Role in the War on Drugs
The inclusion of drug trafficking in the American National Security Strategy

allowed the White House to triple the expenditures allocated to narcotics control
(Nadelmann 1989). At the international level, these funds served to start programs
such as the Andean Initiative (1989) and Plan Colombia (2000), among others,
that prioritized military and police responses over social aid.
Halfway through the 80s, when American aid started to flow in the Andean
Region in the name of the War on Drugs, the marginal position of Ecuador in the
drug trafficking industry gave this country a secondary role in the reception of
economic resources and the cooperation of military and police. With the main focus
on economics instead of politics, the governing elites nonetheless maintained that
Ecuador could not afford to lose access to the resources or economic advantages
that were benefiting its neighbors. Consequently, the country adopted foreign
policies that deliberately aimed to align with Washingtons counterdrug policy,
formulating a discourse in which the country was represented as a victim of the
illegal activities that occurred in the neighboring nations, as a society where drug
use was a problem of great dimensions, and where the solution required a violent
approach and international aid.
At least until halfway through the 1990s, coca production in Ecuador tended to
decrease, contrary to the rest of Andean countries (US Department of State 1995).
The reduced production of coca leaf in Ecuadors northeast was found in the
southern area of the Putumayo River, right next to the Colombian border. Even
though small crops were found in provinces at the northern frontier, the Amazon
border strip represented the main point of conflict, specifically for its linking with
the Amazon Triangle or ECUPECO (Ecuador-Peru-Colombia), in which Ecuador
functioned as a production support agent (Cuesta and Trujillo 1999).
Additionally, the proximity of the guerillas in the Ecuadorian Amazon territories
meant that the military strategies to fight them exerted a pressure on Colombias
south and, consequently, on Ecuadors north. This happened in a context in which
international efforts to intercept trafficking led to the dismantling of the two biggest
drug cartels in Colombia, the Cali and the Medellin (Transnational Institute 2002).
This, in turn, created the right conditions for the subversive and paramilitary groups
in Colombia to take possession of the coca crops that were abandoned by the cartels
in the Amazon region (Bagley 2001). This necessitated the relocation of the
operative bases of guerrillas and paramilitary groups toward the Putumayo region,
following an economic and tactical withdrawal logic within a territory that lacked
state presence on the Colombian side and had a very limited one on the Ecuadorian
side (Rossi 1996).
The relationship between drug trafficking, guerillas, and paramilitaries, born in
the Colombian context, was referred to as narcoguerrilla in the official discourses
(Call 1991). However, even though the political circumstances were different in
each of the Andean countries, this classification served to cover up the repression of
political opposition, criminalizing it and legitimating repressive actions before
society. In the Ecuadorian case, the government of Leon FebresCordero
(19841988) used the recently adopted expression to publicize a non-existent and
indemonstrable link between subversive local groups and drug trafficking mafias
(Paez 1991b) to justify his authoritarianism in the name of national security, and to
justify his human rights violations, his active participation in the War on Drugs, and
to validate the reception of international assistance. The temerarious discourse on
the narcoguerrillas drove the search for a bigger protagonist role for Ecuador in the
framework of regimes, institutions, and international commitments articulated
around the War on Drugs, in order to benefit from the financial aid and the
international cooperation that the rest of Andean countries were receiving. In
1988, the United Nations Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances was subscribed in Vienna. This instrument had the objec-
tive of regulating all activities related to drug trafficking, such as the seizure and
preventive confiscation of narcotic and psychotropic substances, as well as the
derivate goods that came from their traffic. Its main aim was to dismantle trans-
national networks of drug traffickers through the implementation of highly repres-
sive mechanisms; it imposed on its signatory states certain obligations that were not
contemplated in their internal standards; and it countered other international instru-
ments such as the American Convention on Human Rights (Andrade 1993). One of
its particularities was that it promoted the cooperation in legal and penal matters,
which included extradition and seizure figures and reciprocal judiciary cooperation
between countries. This convention was ratified by Ecuador in 1990, when its
executive branch sent a legal project to Congress that aimed to reconcile the
national legislation to the requirements of this convention, even proposing a
constitutional amendment in order to implement the extradition process related to
drug trafficking, but this initiative was vetoed (Ortiz 1990).
In February of 1990, Washington organized the Cartagena Drug Summit in order
to motivate stronger cooperation between the regions countries in the drug cru-
sades. At this event, in a rhetorical manner, the United States recognized the
principle of shared responsibilities, which meant the acceptance of the premise
that the war on drug trafficking must also address the demand for them (Declaration
of Cartagena 1990). On this occasion, the Andean countries requested the conces-
sion of commercial opportunities as a way to strengthen exporting and increase the
productive legal activities. This way, a system of custom benefits was established
under the name of Andean Trade Preference Act (ATPA). Ecuador was not invited
to this summit, which meant being excluded from these tariff benefits. This
generated a public complaint from the chancellors office (Bonilla 1991), an action
that allowed for Ecuadors incorporation into this system in 1993.1
In February of 1992, the American government proposed a new Presidential
Summit in San Antonio, Texas, in order to coordinate the regional cooperation in
drug trafficking matters. This time, Ecuador was included, as well as Venezuela and
Mexico, joining Colombia, Peru, and Bolivia, who were also present in Cartagena
(Bagley 1992).
In 1999, Colombia designed the project known as Plan Colombia, and presented
it to the international community in order to raise funds. The American Congress
approved this initiative in the following year. In political terms, its implementation
had the objective to regionalize the internal Colombian conflict, due to the fact that
Bogotawith Washingtons endorsementclearly stated its inability to face the
problem in an isolated manner. In financial terms, the economic resources for the
Plan Colombia (USD $1,500,000,000 for the 20002001 period) had a direct effect
in Ecuadors insertion in the War on Drugs. The country initially received an
approximate amount of USD $20,000,000 as part of the aid package of the Colom-
bian Plan (Isaacson 2001).
In 2001, President Bush asked for a new budget investment in the Andean region
from 2002 to 2003 for a project called Andean Region Initiative. From this
proposal, Ecuador was to receive support from other similar aid programs,
representing an increase of 63 %, since it had received USD $31,760,000 in
2002. Additionally, it benefitted from several initiatives of military and police
cooperation (Isaacson et al. 2004).
1
The ATPA suppressed the tax barriers for a total of 6100 Ecuadorian products that could freely
enter the American market. This system aided in the expansion of the exportable production and
promoted a 67 % growth of Ecuadorian exports to the United States during the 19952000 period,
which represented the countrys economic increase of an average of 11 % (Baquero and Fernandez
2002).
Tariff benefits also increased. In 2002, the extension of the ATPA went under
negotiation due to its positive impact in the Andean countriesalthough small and
indirectin regards to the eradication and substitution of the coca crops (United
States Trade Representative 2003). Initially, this extension, called the Andean
Trade Promotion and Drug Eradication Act (ATPDEA), was meant to last until
the year 2006 (after which it would be renewed on a yearly basis), and it included
new products to receive benefits, such as oil and its by-products, watches and their
components, purses, suitcases, plain articles, working gloves, and leather apparel,
all of which werent part of the previous version.
At the peak of the policies of drug control, Ecuador was facing one of the most
important crises of its history. In fact, between 1996 and 2000, four different chief
executives occupied the Ecuadorian presidency.2 In spite of this instability, the
Ecuadorian state had a foreign policy agenda with Washington that had four
specific objectives: the conservation of the democratic regime, the resolution of
the Ecuador-Peru conflict, the fight against drug trafficking, and regulation of
foreign trade. Although the tensions between both countries were marked by
Ecuadors difficulty in maintaining democratic stability, the management of the
rest of the objectives in the agenda allowed for a balance. Further, in 1998, a peace
agreement with Peru was signed. The validity of the ATPA promoted a good
bilateral relationship and, in 1999, led to the concession of a military base to the
United States with a 10 year rent-free agreement, showing Ecuadors strong will to
cooperate in the War on Drugs.
The military base in question was known as the Base de Manta due to its
location in Manta City. This was an airport facility, exclusively used for American
airplanes to detect and monitor drug-related activities. In regard to the financial
aspects, the Manta Base represented an investment of approximately USD
$6,130,000included in the Plan Colombia packagefor its construction
(Isaacson 2001). In terms of the political aspects, it allowed for the possibility of
negotiating an extension of the foreign debt payment, generating new investments
(Barreiro 2002), and of renewing the ATPDEA, which was about to expire. It is
worth noticing that the expectations in regard to the debt and the investments were
not fulfilled and, even though the political elite framed the base as an advantage for
the country, many social and political movements complained about its unconsti-
tutionality, because the agreement that allowed for its concession was not approved
by the National Congress, a necessary requirement according to Ecuadorian law
(Sanchez 2003).
Finally, during the decade of the 1990s, the flow in aid was increased due to an
even bigger involvement of Ecuador in the War on Drugs; pressure from Ecuadors
political elite, interested in receiving the material benefits of the War on Drugs; the
deepening internal conflict in Colombia; and the pressure exercised by Colombia
2
Abdala Bucaram was president for 6 months (19961997); Rosala Arteaga was president for
2 days (1997), Fabian Alarc
on for 18 months (19971998) and Jamil Mahuad for 17 months
(19982000).
and the United States to regionalize this situation. However, Ecuadors relationship
to the drug-trafficking industry remained practically unaltered.
Ecuadorian Penal Politics at the End of the Twentieth

Century
Since the rationale for Ecuadors participation in the War on Drugs could not be
justified by fighting illicit production, it had to be endorsed by a rhetoric that
centered on illegal substance use. Indeed, in the 80s, the official discourse affirmed
that drug use among Ecuadorians had increased, and that the country had approx-
imately 200,000 addicts. Also, it sustained that approximately 1,300,000 persons
were occasional users who had begun using drugs between the ages of 1215, thus
identifying children as a vulnerable group. However, the exhibited statistics were
based on a survey conducted by the Attorney Generals Office, which lacked
statistical reliability, due to the sampling method and the way of performing
fieldwork (Andrade 1991, p. 59).
The trust in coercion to combat drug-related problems led to one of the most
repressive penal politics in Latin America. Between 1985 and 1990, massive
incarceration of consumers took place, especially due to drug possession and
trafficking charges; in fact, the number of people detained went from 2120 to
3367; of these, between 57 % and 63 % were drug users, while drug traffickers
only accounted for 31 % in the same period (Andrade 1993). Serious studies in
regard to drug use were conducted in 1988, and these found that the misuse of legal
medicinal drugs negatively affected 14 % of the studied population, which showed
a problematic use that was more exigent than that of illegal substances. Among the
latter, marijuana showed a vital prevalence of 5 %, making it the most popular illicit
substance, in comparison to cocaine paste, with a prevalence of 1.2 %, and cocaine,
with a 1.1 % rate (Andrade 1991).
Regardless of these findings, the government decided to reinforce the control,
protection, and security activities, as well as activities related to drug use preven-
tion, addiction rehabilitation, and illicit drug trafficking control (Paez 1991b). From
the need to be included in the economic agreements coming from the War on Drugs,
or to expect a cut in its aid if the country chose not to participate, Ecuador used the
number of incarcerated people as an indicator of its Drug War involvement
(Edwards 2011). This was accompanied by a legitimating discourse utilizing a
public health perspective. Although the government of Febres Cordero
(19841988) vigorously used the rhetoric of drug trafficking to link drug businesses
to subversive groups, thus justifying its repressive internal politics, drugs were
considered a public health issue even in this period.
Although the rhetoric against drugs was toned down in the following center-left
government, represented by Rodrigo Borjas presidency (19881992), the legal
framework changed in a rather important manner, generating considerable social
impact. The Law of Narcotic and Psychotropic Substances, also known as Law
108, was approved in this period. This law changed the countrys direction in drug
matters from a focus on public health to the prioritization of legal measures. This
new dynamic did not result from a major change in Ecuadorian drug use; instead, it
came from the international treaties regarding drug control and the new funding
offered by the American government for drug control programs (Edwards 2011).
Supported by citizen protection rhetoric, Law 108 decriminalized drug use
but, in a contradictory manner, criminalized drug possession. Under this logic, a
drug user could be committing a crime by having the drugs he was going to use.
This legal trap resulted in the massive incarceration of drug users, using this legal
frame to manifest one of the most repressive regimes in Latin America. In sum,
changes in drug politics meant an increase in prison populations, producing
overcrowding. Additionally, they provoked the feminization of drug issues, due
to the incarceration of a many females who had committed minor drug trafficking
crimes (Torres 2008).
It should be added that, with the application of this norm, virtually all drug-
related crimes were processed. In fact, 100 % of drug crimes were entered into the
legal system, while only 13 % of violent crime accusations were processed. Plus, a
minimum of 54 % of drug-related crimes resulted in sentencing, while only 4 % of
those related to violence were solved (Edwards 2011).
Although this change to a highly punitive focus had an external influence, it was
also supported by Ecuadorian society. In 1995, surveys showed that Ecuadorians
perceived drugs as a negative and undesirable element, and they considered that the
actions performed by public and private institutions had been little to not successful
at all in combating the problem (Laufer 1995). Due to this lack of confidence, 77 %
of Ecuadorians were willing to accept foreign assistance in order to fight drug
trafficking. At the same time, Ecuadorians were the people most inclined towards
aggressive methods in the repression of substances throughout the Andean region
(Bonilla 1998).
The Fight Against Drug-Trafficking: Distances and Turns

in Discourse
Internal social pressure slowly made the Ecuadorian government take distance from
the American and Colombian discourse. In regard to the Colombian position,
Ecuadors distancing focused on glyphosate fumigation at the border between
both countries. While the Colombian elite pictured the glyphosate fumigation as
an adequate strategy against drug trafficking, Ecuadorian society perceived it as
highly harmful for the Ecuadorian border population, its ecosystem, and its pro-
ductive system. The protests carried by social movements forced the government to
request suspension of fumigation operations carried out by Colombia within 10 km
from the Ecuadorian border (Edwards 2002). Later on, Ecuador began an
international lawsuit against Colombia for damages generated by fumigations that

ended with the payment of a compensation of $15,000,000 to the Ecuadorian
government.
Prior to Ecuadors distancing from the United States, the cooperation around
resources had kept the mutual relationship in good terms for a long time. However,
starting in 2001, this association became complicated, due to several facts. First,
even though the agreement of Manta Base explicitly prohibited United States
personnel from getting involved in narcotics interdiction activities in Ecuadorian
territory, there were several complaints from Ecuadorian fishing boats claiming
they had been inspected and, in some cases, this had resulted in important financial
losses for the owners (Edwards 2002). Also, there were denunciations from some
social sectors in regard to the sustainability of foreign policies that were aligned
with the United States interests, harming local population and impeding legal
economic activities.
After the rise of Rafael Correa to power in 2007, foreign policy focused on the
claim of national sovereignty through the adoption of a series of measures creating
distance from the United States government, since Correa considered that they had
seriously interfered with the sovereign politics of the country. In 2009, a process of
reorganization and control of American military and police cooperation began in
order to frame it within the regular and formal Ecuadorian channels, as well as the
norms set by international law. The aim was to eliminate ongoing cooperation on
relations in security matters that werent regulated by the central government. The
same year, the concession agreement for the Manta Base came to an end. This
circumstance was politically capitalized on by the government, which decided not
to renew its commitment, following the dictate in the new Constitution of 2008 that
was created under this mandate.
In 2013, the Ecuadorian government unilaterally resigned from the Andean
Trade Promotion and Drug Eradication Act (ATPDA). According to back-channel
information, the termination of the role of the Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA),
which was cooperating with the National Police in the fight against drug trafficking,
was also expected for the second semester of 2014. However, the DEA still
maintains offices in Ecuador, located in Quito and Guayaquil.
Changes in Penal Politics
The current government had given several signs of its interest in changing penal
politics, especially in regard to problems that relate to the War on Drugs. The first
one took place in 2008, when the new Constitution included, in article No. 364, the
decriminalization of drug use, establishing that addictions are a public health
problem.
The second sign was known as the smuggler pardon, implemented in 2008.
This action covered those sentenced for trafficking, transporting, purchasing or
carrying up to 2 kg of any drug, who had already served at least 10 % of their
sentence (Edwards 2011). Of the 2221 persons incarcerated for minor drug traf-
ficking and later released from prison, only 1 % recidivated, thus revealing the
wisdom of this decision. At a political level, this pardon showed the barbaric extent
of the drug control legislation imposed on the Andean countries since the 1980s
(Metaal 2009), evidencing the need to modify the legal frame in force, and the
possibility of transforming the excessively punitive logic.
A third sign is related to the Public Health Ministry (MSP) taking control of the
regulation of private treatment centers and the generation of a public network of
therapeutic spaces for treating drug abuse and dependence. Historically, the Ecua-
dorian state remained uninvolved with addiction services, treatment protocols, and
the control of the private clinics (Paladines 2014b). Even though there is a small
public network of assistance for those in need of addiction treatment, the void left
by the state was densely occupied by private treatment centers that, for a long
period of time, had little or no control from the health authorities. In fact, there are
approximately 200 therapeutic communities, of which only 123 have the necessary
permits to function, while the others operated without oversight.
Starting in 2009, the MSP took over the regulation and control of the rehabili-
tation and detoxification clinics, a function originally assigned to the National
Council of Narcotic and Psychotropic Substances (CONSEP) under the argument
that this is their duty, since the Constitution considers conflictive drug use a
problem of public health. These measures have allowed for the closing of approx-
imately 20 clinics for not having the necessary permits and protocols, or for
violating human rights and risking their patients integrity. It also allowed for the
rescue of many people that were confined against their will; according to the press,
they numbered 500. Another achievement relates to the unveiling of problems
produced by privatization and the secrecy of addiction treatment in the Ecuadorian
society. Finally, in a private interview given in July of 2014, the highest authority of
CONSEP stated that the MSP foresees the implementation of approximately
20 public treatment centers nationwide (Velez 2014).
With this background, in the year 2009, the government started to work on a
proposal for a new Integral Organic Penal Code (Codigo Organico Integral Penal,
[COIP]) that included important legal reforms in relation to illicit substances. After
a long process of debate and reviewing, this new legal body was approved and
started functioning in August of 2014. The COIP replaced what had been stipulated
in Law 108 in regard to the types of crimes and sentences for illicit drug-related
crimes. This means that Law 108 is still current in regard to three of its mandates:
the functioning of CONSEP, the prevention and control of production and traffic of
illicit substances, and the retention, apprehension, and confiscation of goods. This
law originally regulated the wrong use of controlled substances and the rehabili-
tation of the persons affected; however, oversight of addiction treatment has largely
shifted towards the MSP.
In a clear attempt to rationalize the sentences, the COIP established differences
between (a) large, medium, and small drug and chemical precursor traffickers,
which generated a penalty adjustment according to the activities done while
producing illicit substances; (b) drug traffickers and growers, which allowed for a
distinction between peasants and the mafias who produce illicit substances;
(c) drug-related crimes and violent crimes, such as homicide and rape; and
(d) consumers and drug dealers (Paladines 2014a), through the establishment of a
maximum amount chart for possession, even opening the possibility for home
growing. Additionally, the COIP left behind the standard prison term, according
to Law 108, of 1012 years, and established scales with different penalties.
According to the COIP, punishment will be carried out according to a chart
created by the CONSEP that regulates drug trafficking in minimal, medium, and
large amounts for seven substances that have been classified in the COIP as follows:
four are narcotic (heroin, cocaine paste, cocaine hydrochloride, and marijuana)
and three are psychotropic (amphetamines, MDA, and MDMA).
In regard to the amounts set in the minimal scale category, the regulation starts
from 0 g to a specific limit. This contradicts article 228 of the COIP, which allows
for possession of maximum amounts of illegal substances for personal use. This
overlap in the amount determination in drug trafficking and personal use has two
opposing dimensions as well (Paladines 2014a): the first allows prison release for
people previously incarcerated under Law 108 through the principle of favorabil-
ity that allows for those previously sentenced to benefit from a latter, more benign
law and thereby access a punishment reduction. The second dimension is rather
negative, and it could increase the penalty (even when punishment is short-termed
under current regulations) for drug users. Facing this situation, the maximum
amount chart for drug possession would serve to guide the judiciary in
decriminalizing illicit drug use. Under these circumstances, the training of judges
and police officers is fundamental in order to prevent Law 108 from remaining in
practice.
Although normative frame changes in Ecuador clearly show a will to rational-
ization, some state sectors seem reticent to implement the stipulated transforma-
tions; this has put a real limitation on the progress accomplished. In fact, prior to the
establishment of the COIP, and during the months after its implementation, a
national campaign of police intervention was implemented in schools where there
were claims of drug trafficking. It is important to address information such as this in
order to see that certain official sectors try to link drug use among teenagers with
micro-trafficking networks while publicizing the use of force as the only adequate
alternative., This campaign has most likely opened the opportunity to activate a
security discourse, along with a punitive-protective rhetoric towards youth, which
is highly accepted by the Ecuadorian society.
There are several cases showing that the criminalization of drug users and home-
growers is still in force. Additionally, the current structure of the Ecuadorian penal
system allows for the strong influence of police in the legal process, which
facilitates obtaining a condemnatory sentence in drug cases due to the high impor-
tance that judges give to police reports. These reports sometimes constitute the only
evidence in drug-related trials, even when they are loaded with subjective opinions,
are not clear, and are marked by a repressive logic (Paladines 2013). The persistent
abuse of preventive incarceration and the factual installment of drug courts must be
added to this. Preventive incarceration has been a recurrent problem in Ecuadors
legal system (Edwards 2011). In the specific case of drug-related crimes, the abuse
of this resource resulted in the imprisonment of drug users for periods considerably
longer than 1 year (the maximum amount of time a person can be held under
preventive incarceration). This situation has not changed, even though drug use has
been decriminalized since 2008. However, changes are expected to result from the
mandatory use of the maximum amount of drugs chart, as well as the different
scales for sentencing set in article 220 of the COIP.
Some judges have been following their logic in a factual manner in the drug
courts by allowing those charged with drug-related crimes to voluntarily acknowl-
edge themselves as addicts, momentarily suspending the legal process as long as the
accused undergoes rehabilitation treatment. The seriousness of such practices is
related to their infringement of the innocence principle, as well as disrespect of the
rights of those who freely decide to use substances (Paladines 2013). Furthermore,
the numbers that relate drug use to crime perpetration are distorted.
The paradox in this situation is that the State has a body of lawyers (although
insufficient) who serve as public defenders, many of whom have performed an
important role in defending and freeing those held through police and judiciary
actions. On a national scale, from the years 2007 to 2014, the public defenders have
responded to 15,532 requests for assistance in drug-related crimes. So far, 1956
people have been liberated after demonstrating their innocence (Bravo 2014).
However, more than 5000 people are still imprisoned for these reasons. Ironically,
it could be said that one part of the state defends the population from another part of
the state.
Conclusions
The characteristics of Ecuadorian drug policies are influenced by two sources that
have left trails that can be followed throughout history. The first source finds its
beginnings in the earlier Colonial Period, in which the prohibitionist focus began to
set, aided by a series of moral values and beliefs from the Ecuadorian society; it
responds to the social aspect and corresponds to the internal dimension of the State.
The second influential source has an external nature, and it is marked by the
beginning of the War on Drugs towards the end of the twentieth century, as well
as by obliging behavior from the local government to repression of drug use in
exchange for financial benefits, and to avoid sanctions.
The combination of these aspects resulted in a complex network of social
representations regarding drugs that propitiated compulsory behavior towards the
persecution and repression of any activity related to drugs, legitimating massive
incarceration of thousands of drug users, the overcrowding of prisons, and violation
of due process and human rights in this population. This collective hysteria in
relation to drugs allowed for the progressive increase of violent control, not only
through incarceration in public penitentiaries, but also by contributing to the surge
of some sort of a private penal system in the form of private detoxification clinics
that, irresponsibly, also offered reparative sexual orientation treatment for

homosexuals.
Although the discourse that sustains the regulation and control of substances by
the Ecuadorian state has oscillated between public health and repression, since the
2008 Constitution, it has incorporated medical arguments, which have favored an
interpretative turn that prioritizes individual health over prohibition and punish-
ment. Also, it is possible to identify serious and systematic attempts to address
some of the social conflicts generated by the legal frame around drug-related
activities, among which the definition of addiction as a public health problem can
be counted. We note also the creation of a maximum quantity chart to decriminalize
drug use, found in the COIP; the release of approximately 2000 people who had
been incarcerated for drug-related crimes, according to the Public Defender; the
establishment of public treatment facilities along with the regulation of private
clinics; and finally, but not less importantly, the development of a sovereign foreign
policy that limits external assistance of the military and police, curbs the creation of
international military bases, and discourages reward-punishment systems (such as
the ATPDEA) generally oriented towards drug control activities.
Regardless, the leftovers from approximately three decades of highly punitive
policies have generated a kind of repressive habitus in certain state institutions that
hasnt yet been overcome. These habitus are in contradiction to the transformations
that Ecuador is seeking to implement in addressing drug-related issues, making
their consolidation and sustainability through time more difficult.
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Chapter 6
Seeking Alternatives to Repression: Drug
Policies and the Rule of Law in Colombia
Rodrigo Uprimny and Diana Esther Guzman
For the past 15 years in Colombia and elsewhere, there has been a growing body of
evidence showing that the current prohibitionist regime has had negative effects,
especially on human rights. These negative effects have created an atmosphere that
necessitates shifts in national drug policies. As part of this emerging trend, Colom-
bia is going through a potential breaking point in matters of drug policies.
For the first time since the Colombian state embraced the international drug
control regime, policymakers and some sectors of society have debated about the
need to reform current drug policies. In 2011, President Juan Manuel Santos
(20102018) called for a revision of current Latin American drug policies (The
Guardian 2011). More recently, in the context of the peace talks between the
Colombian Government and the Revolutionary Colombian Armed Forces (Fuerzas
Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia [FARC])the biggest and oldest guerrilla
group in Colombiathe drug issue was defined as one of the six points of
negotiation; and both parties have agreed on the necessity of reforming the Colom-
bian drug policies (Revista Semana 2014). Moreover, at the sub-national level,
some local governments have attempted to introduce policies challenging
prohibitionism.
This chapter discusses opportunities for reform as well as challenges. We argue
that in spite of the current window of opportunity for drug policy reform, real and
structural changes could be difficult to achieve. Both at national and international
levels, there are restrictions and dynamics that could undermine the possibility of
reforms and their effectiveness. Nevertheless, the negative impacts of the current
R. Uprimny
Center for the Study of Law, Justice and Society Dejusticia, Carrera 24 # 34-61, Bogota,
Colombia
e-mail: ruprimny@yahoo.com
D.E. Guzman (*)
Stanford University, Palo Alto, CA, USA
e-mail: dguzmanr@stanford.edu

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_6
88 R. Uprimny and D.E. Guzman
policies on human rights and the incentives they create for drug trafficking are
factors that emphasize the need for significant shifts. Hence, identifying and
discussing challenges can enrich the debate about how to advance towards demo-
cratic drug policies.
We develop this argument through three sections of this chapter. The first section
presents a socio-historic reconstruction of the development of Colombian drug
policies for the past 60 years. It addresses both the punitive trend that has charac-
terized the national response to drug issues in the country as well as some positive
changes that have happened. In the second section, we identify the driving factors
of the reforms in the country. This combination of description and analysis allows
us to show why changes are needed and contextualize the debate about drug policy
reforms. The third section briefly depicts the current possibilities of change and
discusses the challenges and risks.
Developments in Colombian Drug Policies
In this section, we present a sociological perspective on the evolution of Colombian

drug policies by analyzing the main legal changes in their social context. Broadly,
during the twentieth century the national legal framework evolved from having no
legal drug controls to an increasingly repressive system in response to national and
international dynamics, such as the growing power of the drug cartels and the
tightening of the international drug control regime. However, since the end of the
century, some judicial decisions and administrative policies began to erode these
drug control policies, opening the door for a broader discussion about the issues
with the current system and the need for advancing a human rights approach. This
evolution has gone through four basic stages.
Stage one. Early twentieth century to 1960s: From prevention
to repression The first regulations of drug production and distribution date back
to the second decade of the twentieth century, after the first International Opium
Commission of 1909 in Shanghai (Caballero 1989). Bill 11 of 1920 stated that drug
commerce had to be authorized by specialized staff, such as physicians and
pharmacists. Distribution without authorization was sanctioned with fines. This
preventive and administrative approach began to change in the middle of the
1930s. In 1936, the Criminal Code prohibited the production and distribution of
products containing opium and coca. Then, in 1945, sanctions for this conduct were
tightened (Uprimny and Guzman 2010b). Still, those penalties resulted in only a
few years of incarceration.
The regulation of drug consumption followed a similar path. During the 1930s
and 1940s, laws were issued to create a registry of consumers as well as require
compulsory health treatment. The first penalization related to consumption
appeared in 1951, but it only targeted marijuana use and possession. These penalties
were extended to any illicit drug by the Decree 1669 of 1964 (Uprimny and
6 Seeking Alternatives to Repression: Drug Policies and the Rule of Law in. . . 89
Guzman 2015). Thereafter, the initial preventive and administrative approach was
swiftly replaced by the criminalization of drug-related offenses. Despite this turn
from administrative to criminal response, during the first part of the century, the
repression against drug production, consumption, and distribution was soft both in
the formal definition of penalties and in law enforcement.
Stage two. From the 1970s to the beginnings of the 1990s: Increasing
repression Since the beginning of the 1970s, criminal law expanded significantly
in response to national and international events. By that time, drug trafficking
cartels began to acquire national and international prominence. Even though they
were active since the 1950s with the marijuana boom, their presence was limited to
the north coast (Uprimny 2001, p. 373). During the 1960s, with growing economic
power but localized presence, they were able to engage in tacit agreements with the
traditional elites and avoid persecution by the state. Nevertheless, they progres-
sively attracted attention due to their role in international drug transactions and the
flow of narco-dollars into the national economy.
In 1971, the President of the United States, Richard Nixon, declared the
so-called War on Drugs. This policy aimed to fight against the use of illegal
drugs, by attacking the supply. In practice, it implied the hardening of the inter-
national drug control regime. Although the international system of drug control
existed previously to this policy, and the Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs was
approved in 1961, law enforcement was weak. With the War on Drugs, the system
began a new era in international drug control, characterized by the intensive use of
criminal law to combat all phases of the business (cultivation, production, distri-
bution, and trafficking).
The growing power of drug cartels and the reinforcement of the international
drug control system had a significant impact on both the perception of the drug
problem and the strategies employed to tackle it. In the Colombian case, the
punitive component of national drug policies increased. The state approved several
norms, most of them in the context of states of emergency. For example, the
government enacted the first National Illegal Drugs Statute (Estatuto Nacional de
Estupefacientes, Decree 1188 of 1974) with the aim of unifying and systematizing
the drug-related norms. This Statute increased the number of criminalized conducts
and their sanctions, creating crimes with very broad definitions and high penalties.
Moreover, Colombia approved the main conventions of the international drug
control system: Act 13 of 1974 approved the Single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs and its 1972 Protocol of amends, and the Act 66 of 1979 approved the
South American Agreement on Stupefacient and Psychotropic (Uprimny and
Guzman 2010b). Additionally, the government signed the first extradition treaty
with the US in 1979, and Congress approved it in 1980.
Despite this punitive approach, drug lords still had relative anonymity and tried
to participate openly in the social and political life. Pablo Escobar (the head of the
Medellin Cartel) was a member of the House of Representatives from 1982 to 1984,
and Carlos Ledher (a co-founder of the Medellin Cartel) founded a political party.
However, with the growing repression, these attempts eventually failed and the
drug violence was triggered, with bombings, assassinations, and massive killings.
For example, the Minister of Justice, Rodrigo Lara Bonilla, was assassinated in
April 1984 as a consequence of his denouncement of the infiltration of drug
trafficking into national political issues.
In response, the administration of Belisario Betancourt declared a state of siege
and formally began the period called the war against drug trafficking. In this war,
the weapon used by the government was a set of norms of emergency: highly
repressive and neglectful of due process (Garca-Villegas 2001). These policy
measures allowed the government to give the impression of a strong response to
drug trafficking, though, in practice, they created a reactive strategy with low
efficacy. Thus, their real effect was symbolic rather than instrumental.
Notwithstanding, this strategy, coupled with the negative social reaction gener-
ated by the drug violence, closed the drug lords doors to politics and public life. In
hiding, drug cartels employed different strategies for keeping their power and
maintaining impunity. While the Cali cartel used the traditional gangster strategy
of corruption and violence, the Medellin cartel preferred buying land and making
alliances with illegal armed actors (especially paramilitary groups) to assure terri-
torial power (Uprimny 2001). During this period, the links between drug cartels and
the internal armed conflict groups rose.
Once again, the reaction was a set of incongruent strategies. On the one hand, the
government continued enacting decrees of emergency, reducing procedural guar-
antees, and using a weak judicial system as a spearhead against the drug trafficking
cartels. Legal reforms included Act 30 of 1986. It enacted a new National Illegal
Drugs Statute, increasing penalties for drug-related offenses. Although this statute
includes measures for prevention and rehabilitation, in practice, it has been used for
delving into the use of the criminal law against drug issues (Uprimny and
Guzman 2010b). On the other hand, it supported secret negotiations with drug
lords. During Betancurs administration (19821986), as well as Barcos adminis-
tration (19861990), some talks between officials and drug cartels took place. All of
them failed, due to national criticisms and pressure from the United States. Even-
tually, these attempts succeeded during Gavirias administration (19901994), with
the submission to justice policy and the constitutional ban on extradition of
Colombian citizens. Thanks to these policies, the drug lords of the Medellin cartel
submitted themselves to the judicial system by 1992, in the midst of national and
international criticism for these governmental concessions. Violence only
decreased temporarily, because a few months later, Pablo Escobar escaped from
prison and narco-terrorist actions resumed. In December 1993, the police killed him
in an operation.
In sum, this is a period characterized by violence, growing repression, and
conflicting measures. Additionally, although the offenses and penalties increased,
law enforcement remained minimal. Sanctions imposed to drug traffickers were
derisory. For example, the Ochoa brothers (co-founders of the Medellin cartel) were
sanctioned with 4 years of prison, and the so-called faceless judges (created to
protect the identities of judges, witnesses, and investigators) imposed sanctions of
36 months on average.
Stage three. Early 1990s to 2009: The erosion of the prohibitionist

approach During the 1990s, the Colombian judicial system experienced several
transformations. The 1991 Constitution reformed the criminal system, included a
bill of rights, and created a constitutional jurisdiction to protect rights. These
changes lead to the development of a different strategy against drug trafficking.
For example, the Constitutional Court rulings restrained the use of states of
exception and the systematic reduction of procedural guarantees. Additionally,
the creation of the Public Prosecutors Office represented a transition into a more
specialized prosecution of organized crime activities, due to its structure and
resources. Today, the Colombian criminal system has more advanced investigative
strategies, such as national units investigating patterns of criminality, with more
resources and security than the previous judges of preliminary investigation.
Even though some changes occurred, a certain authoritarian inertia remained.
For instance, the previous legal framework in matters of drugs endured, such as Act
30 of 1986 (which is still enforced). Furthermore, after the failure of the submission
to justice policy, due to the escape of Pablo Escobar and his men, repression
increased again. During the Sampers administration (19941998), campaign
finance scandals involving drug trafficking money emerged. Despite the political
corruption, the Congress approved the Act of Property Confiscation (Ley de
extincion de dominio) and the Vienna Convention of 1988; increased the penalties
for drug related crimes; and passed a constitutional reform for authorizing extradi-
tion. Additionally, the government launched a new offensive against drug traffick-
ing organizations, and the drug lords of the Cali cartel were captured.
This trend was reinforced under international pressure that led to new political
commitments. In 1999, the Colombian government launched the Plan Colombia,
a new strategy supported by the United States to eradicate coca production and
improve national security (Camacho and Meja 2013). This policy focused on the
aerial fumigation of coca corps, cocaine confiscation, and prosecution of drug
trafficking.
This return to repressive strategies was partial. Simultaneously, a different trend
emerged. This began in 1994, when the Constitutional Court decriminalized pos-
session for consumption (ruling C-221 of 1994). According to the Court, to impose
a penalty such as arrest or a fine on adults who decide to consume drugs exceeds the
states authority to appropriately intervene to guarantee its citizens their rights to
health and, at the same time, it violates their right to self determination. Although
this progressive decision caused adverse reactions (Guzman and Uprimny 2010), it
opened a new chapter in the official response to illegal drugs. Since then, a growing
set of judicial decisions have recognized that drug consumers are endowed with
rights, and have reduced the role of criminal law in regard to consumers (Uprimny
et al. in press). These decisions have contributed to the progressive emergence of a
new approach towards drug consumption. For example, in 2007, the Ministry of
Health issued the National Policy for the Reduction of Drug Consumption and its
Impact. This policy considers users as individuals with rights and has special
emphasis on prevention and harm mitigation.
While some new discourses began to erode the repressive system inspired by the
international drug control regime, the drug trafficking in Colombia began to
change. After the downfall of the Colombian drug lords, highly hierarchical cartels
were replaced by micro-cartels or boutique cartels, characterized by greater
flexibility and specialization (Inkster and Comolli 2013). Additionally, both guer-
rillas and paramilitary groups began to increase their participation in trafficking
(Garay and Salcedo-Albarran 2012). At the international level, Mexican drug
cartels emerged and assumed control of routes and networks previously dominated
by Colombian cartels. Nowadays, Colombia does not face the same violent threat
associated with drug trafficking, but it still plays a fundamental role in international
drug trafficking.
Stage four. 2009 to the present: Between authoritarianism and human rights
discourses The tension between the authoritarian and the human rights approaches
has been more evident in the past few years. In 2009, a new constitutional reform
prohibiting the possession and consumption of illegal drugs was passed. Although
this seemed to be a success for the political forces aligned with prohibition, in
practice, it has opened democratic debate about the current legal framework
regarding drugs for two reasons. First, both the Constitutional and the Supreme
Courts have ruled that the new constitutional amendment does not allow the
criminalization of consumption. Second, the reform acknowledges the right of
consumers to receive voluntary treatment, and enshrines the duty of the state to
guarantee prevention and medical attention.
Ever since, these different approaches have coexistedas is the case of other
countries studied in this bookand some debates about the scope of constitutional
prohibition and the future of national drug policies have taken place. In regard to
consumption, for example, some progressive legal reforms have been passed,
such as Act 1566 of 2012, which decrees that the healthcare system must provide
treatment for drug users with dependence issues. But, when it comes to production
and trafficking, there is a lack of concrete advances.
Driving Factors Of Developments and Main Characteristics

Of Drug Policies
During the twentieth century, Colombian drug policies went from having an
administrative approach to the intensive use of the criminal law against drug
production, distribution, and consumption. In this century, the repressive compo-
nent has remained without significant changes; but, in regard to consumption, some
progressive shifts have occurred. This section traces the main factors that have
contributed to the fast and paradoxical transformations of drug policies in Colom-
bia. Then, we briefly identify some main features of these policies. This analysis
allows us to contextualize why a shift is needed and how to engage in the debate
about possibilities for change.
Factors behind changes over the past 60 years First, the description below
shows the influence of international dynamics on the national response to illegal
drugs. Keeping the terminology proposed by Boaventura de Sousa Santos (1998),
our anti-drug policies can be characterized as a localized globalism, because a
domestic policy from the United States was transformed into binding international
treaties, reinforcing prohibitionist trends. In turn, they are a globalized localism
because the international drug control system and pressures of the United States
strongly influenced our national policies (Uprimny and Guzman 2010b). Indeed,
our war against drug trafficking could be considered as a legacy of the American
War on Drugs in terms of language, logic, and strategies. Nevertheless, the former
is not a mere reflex of the later because it also responds to local concerns and
anxieties, as well as moral beliefs. This factor has promoted, among other effects,
the intensive use of criminal law and the reduction of national autonomy to develop
suitable policies for reducing violence and addressing the logics of the market.
The second driving factor is the impact of drug trafficking organizations. The
violence associated with the activities of drug cartels during the 1980s and the
1990s (especially assassinations and bombings) was a key element in the develop-
ment of an authoritarian approach during those years. Additionally, those organi-
zations concentrated a great corrupting power (Uprimny and Guzman 2015). Thus,
while the drug lords were able to avoid prosecution for a long time by using threats
or bribes, the growing repression affected thousands of people, some of whom were
unrelated to drug trafficking. For example, although the goal of the decrees issued
in the context of states of emergency was to tackle the challenges of drug traffick-
ing, these decrees were applied against strikers and social movements (Garca-
Villegas 2001).
Institutional weaknesses constitute a third factor. Even though consecutive legal
reforms increased the crimes and penalties for drug-related conduct, only a few of
them aimed to reinforce institutions in charge of their implementation. By the 1970s
and the 1980s, prosecution was the responsibility of judges of preliminary investi-
gation ( jueces de instrucci on criminal) with low investigative capacity and
low salaries; they were therefore easy targets for criminal organizations with a
high capacity for corruption and violence. Infiltration of official institutions by
drug cartels (and then by the illegal armed actors of the conflict) contributed to the
weakening of the states ability to deal with violence and trafficking.
Those few reforms that aimed to reinforce the judicial system, such as the
creation of faceless criminal prosecutors and judges ( jueces y fiscales sin
rostro),1 reproduced an authoritarian approach, focusing on reducing procedural
1
The called faceless justice was created with the aim of protecting the identity of judges,
prosecutors, and witnesses. In practice, however, it entailed the reduction of procedural
guarantees.
guarantees rather than on reinforcing democratic institutions. After 1991, the

capacity of the state increased with some institutional reforms, such as the creation
of the General Public Prosecutors Office. Nevertheless, corruption and institutional
cooptation are still an issue in the country (Garay and Salcedo-Albarran 2012).
Some corruption scandals have come to light. In 2011, for example, the Supreme
Court convicted the former director of the Medellin Prosecutors Office for having
served a powerful drug trafficking organization led by Don Mario (Revista Semana
2011). On the whole, however, the repressive approach has had a low efficacy.
A fourth factor is the political economy of prohibition. A success, such as
dismantling a criminal organization, causes temporary supply shortages and price
increases that should contribute to consumption reduction. Paradoxically, those
price increases are an incentive for people to enter the business. And such incen-
tives are going to continue whenever the demand persists in the long term, which
will happen in spite of repression. Additionally, production of illegal drugs of
vegetal origin, such as cocaine and marijuana, is technically easy, and the spaces
needed for production are huge. Thus, some successes against specific groups are
going to displace production to other areas. This is the so-called balloon effect.
As such, prohibitionist policies can only produce displacement of the production
and distribution, not their eradication.
Characterization of current policies By analyzing driving factors of the evolu-
tion of drug policies in Colombia, some reasons for change appear; they are
associated with the structural features of such policies, and we analyze those
characteristics in this section.
First, anti-drug policies in Colombia have been characterized by highly repres-
sive measures. The intensive use of criminal law has created an irrational increase
in penalties. Both the number of drug-related conducts penalized and the lengths of
their penalties have increased steadily since 1950. One of the results of this trend is
the disproportionality of penalties for drug-related offenses (Uprimny et al. 2013a).
This disproportionality is confirmed by a comparison between these offenses and
other crimes that societies consider more serious and that cause far greater, more
concrete, and more direct harm to protected legal interests. For example, the
punitive response to drug-related crimes is more severe than the penalties
established for rape (Uprimny et al. 2013b). Moreover, most of the reforms, in
particular in the 1980s and the 1990s, significantly reduced procedural guarantees
(Garca-Villegas 2001). These consequences have caused the direct violation of
human rights, such as the due process of law.
This use of criminal law as a weapon in the fight against illegal drugs has also
disproportionally affected the most vulnerable populations. As we mentioned
above, most of the decrees adopted as part of the states of emergency during the
80s allowed the targeting of social movements mobilizing for social justice. Addi-
tionally, the majority of people incarcerated for drug-related offenses are from
severely disadvantage backgrounds (people with low incomes and low levels of
education) as well as being the least important links in the chain of growing,
production, and trafficking of drugs. According to one study conducted by the
authors in 2009 about drug policies and their impacts on the Colombian prison
system, 98 % of the people deprived of liberty for drug trafficking had not had (or it
had not been possible to prove that they had) major participation in drug-trafficking
networks. Moreover, there has been a feminization of drug-related offenses.
Although the majority of people incarcerated for these offenses are men, drug-
related offenses have become the major reason for female imprisonment. No other
group of crimes has a comparable percentage of women incarcerated (Uprimny and
Guzman 2010a).
Repressive measures include aerial spraying and forced eradication of crops.
The Colombian Government adopted the program of fumigations in 1994 with the
support of the United States. Ever since, large areas of the country have been
sprayed with herbicides, including the active ingredient glyphosate. As a result,
since 2007, the cultivation of coca in the country has steadily dropped (Isacson
2013). Nevertheless, potential cocaine production has remained stable (Meja
2009). Moreover, several studies on this issue have demonstrated that this policy
has negatively affected both communities and ecosystems near fumigated areas.
For example, a recent quantitative research found that glyphosate exposure
increases the likelihood of suffering skin problems and abortions in those commu-
nities living in the sprayed areas (Camacho and Meja 2013). Thus, while this
policy has only modestly reduced coca cultivation, it has been extremely costly in
terms of human rights.
By 2014, Colombia was the only country that fumigated its coca growers
(Isacson 2013); however, this could change in the future. At the time this book
was being edited, the national government announced the suspension of aerial
spraying with glyphosate. This decision was preceded by an important debate in
the country. In March of 2015, the International Agency for Research on Cancer
(IARC), affiliated with the World Health Organization, announced that glyphosate
is probably carcinogenic to humans (IARC 2015). In response to this report, and
considering the growing evidence about the negative effects of the aerial spraying,
the Minister of Health recommended the suspension of fumigations. These facts
exacerbated national and international criticism towards this policy. In May of
2015, President Juan Manuel Santos announced the suspension of the coca fumi-
gation with glyphosate. This could represent a significant shift in Colombian drug
policies.
Second, the response to drug trafficking challenges has been incongruent and
disorganized. During most of the past century, the reforms adopted by the state
were not part of a long-term strategy. These policies followed the pattern of typical
authoritarian reactions to violent acts or international pressures. In some cases, for
example, increases in penalties were adopted along with attempts of negotiate drug
lords submission to justice. These contradictions suggest that at least some of those
authoritarian measures were used with symbolic purposes (Garca-Villegas 2001).
In other words, some of those repressive measures aimed to legitimate the state
instead of effectively disarticulating drug cartels.
Exceptions to this feature are the recent judicial decisions and policies about
drug consumption. Although the constitutional ban on possession and use creates
some contradictions, the general trend in regard to consumption is the acknowl-

edgment of users rights. Nowadays, for example, it is clear that treatment is
voluntary and guaranteed by the state (Uprimny et al. in press). However, imple-
mentation of progressive policies in this area is still pending. For instance, although
consumption is decriminalized, in practice, some consumers are prosecuted, espe-
cially when they are arrested in possession of more than the personal dose (Bernal
et al. in press). Similarly, although voluntary drug treatment is a constitutional right
(article 49), drug treatment supply is limited and sometimes problematic. In prac-
tice, the idea of drug treatment in Colombia is associated with rehabilitation and
confinement, which substantially reduces the development of specialized medical
services for problematic drug users. Moreover, most of the rehabilitation centers are
private, geographically concentrated in big cities, and very few of them provide
scientifically based treatment. These characteristics, combined with a lack of
control over private rehabilitation centers, allow the persistence of both barriers
to access and human rights abuses in some of them (Uprimny et al. in press).
Third, the repressive policies have been largely ineffective. Their main purposes
are: (a) reducing the production and distribution of illegal drugs; and
(b) disarticulating drug trafficking organizations. Although some partial successes
have been achieved, such as the disarticulation of the Medellin and Cali cartels,
none of these purposes has been achieved in the medium and long terms. In spite of
the policies of fumigation and eradication, Colombia remains one of the main
producers of cocaine worldwide (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime
2013). Moreover, although the drug lords of 1980s were incarcerated, extradited
or killed, illegal Colombian organizations still play an important role in inter-
national drug trafficking transactions. The current national trafficking actors are
specialized networks instead of huge and hierarchical cartels, as well as guerillas
and paramilitary groups (Inkster and Comolli 2013). Thus, drug trafficking and its
illegal economy create constant challenges for the Colombian state.
The elements analyzed above emphasize the need to refocus and reform current
drug policies in the country. They violate human rights and reproduce deep
inequalities, and they are not effective at achieving their purposes. Thus, the
previous analysis represents the why in the debate about drug policy reforms.
In the next section, we try to advance elements related to the how.
Between Wings of Change and Barriers to Deep Reforms
How do we tackle the challenges associated with drug trafficking? And, more
broadly, how should we deal with the demand and supply of illegal drugs? These
questions do not have easy answers. Nonetheless, the Colombian experience pre-
viously described suggests that we should reframe the traditional responses and
adopt policies that seek to deepen democracy and respect for human rights. In this
section, we briefly describe the current possibilities of change, and then analyze
some of the complexities that could undermine significant shifts.
Wings of change In addition to the changes in the regulation of drug consumption

described above, other forums for debating structural and punctual reforms have
opened in the past 3 years in Colombia. In this section, we briefly lay out some of
the policies Colombia has adopted and the possibilities of further reforms.
Since 2011, President Juan Manuel Santos has called for shifting anti-drug
policies in different public forums, including Presidential and Political Summits,
academic conferences, and interviews with the press (Szabo de Carvalho and
Muggha 2014; Mulholland 2011). These pronouncements are part of an emerging
international set of voices calling for reforms in the current drug control regime.
Other important politicians, such as the Guatemalan President Otto Perez Molina
(see Feilding and Fernandez in this volume), and members of the Global Commis-
sion on Drugs, as well as scholars and some sectors of civil society, have insisted on
the importance of reviewing and changing the current prohibitionist approach to
drug issues.
Despite President Santos leadership at the international level, he has hesitated in
advancing significant and progressive reforms within the country. For example,
although the government drafted a new National Drug Statute, after years of
discussions with several stakeholders, it has not been presented to Congress for
debate and further approbation. As a result, Law 30 of 1986 is still in place, and its
fundamentally repressive nature remains. Similarly, the main approach to drug
issues is the elimination of supply and demand by repressive measures, such as
forced eradication of illegal crops.
Yet, nowadays, unlike 6 years ago, a certain openness to debating drug policy
reforms exists in Colombia. In 2013, the current government created the Drug
Policy Advisory Commission (Comision Asesora de Polticas de Drogas en Colom-
bia), with the aim of analyzing the results and impacts of the strategies employed by
the state in the fight against drugs in the past few years (Observatorio de la Droga de
Colombia 2015). This commission, comprised of 12 independent experts, has been
seeking alternative drug policies.2
In July 2014, the commission launched its first report, focusing on drug con-
sumption. This document has been important for the debate in Colombia and
elsewhere because it conceptualizes drug use as a health issue and develops a
policy framework along those lines (Drug Policy Advisory Commission 2014). In
May 2015, the Commission launched its second report, which contains a complete
set of proposals for reframing national drug polices. For example, the report:
(a) emphasizes the need to end coca fumigation; (b) calls for regulation of medi-
cinal marijuana; (c) stresses the importance of the harm reduction approach in
2
Members of the Commission: former Colombian President, Cesar Gaviria; former General of the
Republic, Oscar Naranjo; Scholar Daniel Meja; expert on security issues, Mara Victoria
lvaro Balcazar; former Vice Public
Llorente; former director of the project Consolidation, A
Prosecutor, Wilson Martnez; former Vice Canciller, Adriana Meja; Criminal Lawyer, Ivan
Gonzalez Amado; specialists in drug consumption: Ines Elvira Meja and Augusto Perez; and
one of the authors of this article, Rodrigo Uprimny.
policies related to drug consumption; and (d) calls for a change in the way the
success of drug policies is measured (Bermudez 2015). Although the progressive
proposals of the Commission have not been implemented, its existence could
contribute to developing alterative approaches to drug issues in Colombia.
This openness to debate has enhanced the proposals for reform. Some congress-
men and congresswomen have presented legislative initiatives with alternative
approaches to Colombian drug issues. For instance, in 2014, Senator Juan Manuel
Galan presented a constitutional reform proposal with the aim of allowing the use of
cannabis for medicinal purposes. This proposal has been supported by the national
government (Da historico 2014). Nevertheless, several sectors of society, includ-
ing conservative political parties and the Catholic Church, as well as some state
institutions such as the General Attorney Office (Procuraduria General de la
Naci on, the state institution in charge of the promotion and protection of human
rights), have criticized it. These sectors affirm that Colombia is not prepared to
legalize medicinal marijuana because it would increase both drug consumption and
the violence associated with drug trafficking (Noticias RCN, 2014). This debate
around medicinal cannabis legalization reflects how some moral ideas and stereo-
types strongly influence social perspectives about drug issues. Other legislative
proposals have included the legalization of cultivation and different approaches to
production.
Furthermore, some changes in drug policies have been made. For example,
during the presidency of Alvaro Uribe (20022010), one of the indicators for
measuring the success of the security forces operation was to prosecute at least
1000 coca cultivators per year. During Santos administration, this policy has not
been followed, because it reduced the legitimacy of police and army in the regions
instead of reducing cultivation (Bermudez 2014). This created a context that is less
repressive for coca cultivators. Additionally, some harm reduction policies have
been implemented. First, in 2012, the local government of Bogota launched the
Mobile Centers for Drug Addicts Attention (known in Spanish as CAMAD), with
the aim of providing healthcare services to high-risk user groups such as homeless
persons and prison inmates. Second, in April 2014, the local Government of Pereira
began a pilot project of a syringe exchange program with the aim of reducing the
risk of transmission of infections among injecting drug users in the city. The pilot
has been implemented with the support of experts in the field and co-funded by
international donors (Uprimny et al. in press). Both policies have generated inten-
sive debates in Colombia and have attracted international attention for representing
a new approach to drug issues.
This wave of reforms in Colombia has created interesting changes, but they have
not addressed the full range of complexities associated with drug issues in the
country. While the debate has included the possibility of policy reforms in regard to
the full drug cycle, drug consumption is the issue in which progressive measures
have been developed. Nonetheless, Colombia also has opportunities to make
broader changes. If the current peace talks between the government and the
FARC succeed, the state may be able to go through a process of deep reforms in
various fields, including drug issues.
In this regard, in May 2014, the parties of the peace talks reached an agreement
on the fourth point of their negotiating agenda. Accordingly, if the final peace
agreement is signed, several measures will shape the new drug policies in Colom-
bia. The state should adopt programs of voluntary substitution of illegal crops,
prevention of drug consumption, and integral healthcare attention for drug users.
Additionally, in regard to drug trafficking, it would imply prioritizing the persecu-
tion of criminal organizations (Mesa de conversaciones 2014). Although the agree-
ment does not push for changes in the international drug control regime, and
respects the main restrictions derived from such regime, it lays the foundations
for important changes in national drug policies. For example, it is audacious in three
central issues: coca cultivation, drug consumption, and drug production, proposing
new and innovative approaches (Uprimny and Parra 2014). Additionally, the
agreement states that drug policies have to acknowledge the ancestral and tradi-
tional use of coca leaf. In Colombia, as in some other Latin American countries,
coca has a cultural significance in indigenous communities (see Grisaffi in this
volume).
Challenges In Colombia and elsewhere, the debate around drug policy reforms is
complicated by multiple constraints associated with the international drug control
regime. Nevertheless, this country faces additional limitations. In this section, we
analyze three factors that constitute challenges for achieving significant changes in
drug policies.
First, in the past few years, drug trafficking has had significant impacts on the
armed conflict. Although the latter has ancient roots and a political dimension, drug
trafficking has influenced its current dynamics. The flow of money from trafficking
to illegal armed actors, as well as the intervention of illegal armed groups in at least
some stages of the drug cycle, have contributed to deepening the violence associ-
ated with the armed conflict. Thus, structural reforms to drug policy should take
into account the complex relationships between drug trafficking and the internal
armed conflict.
Second, beyond the armed conflict, Colombia faces a deep problem of violence
and weaknesses in the democratic system. Although these factors existed before the
emergence and boom of drug trafficking, this has been fundamental for aggravating
them. The vast economic power of these criminal organizations allows them to use
violence and corruption on a daily basis to achieve their purposes. Thus, drug
trafficking has deepened the institutional problems of the Colombian government
and judiciary, as well as created a culture of illegality in society.
As long as the illicit economy associated with drug trafficking persists, violence
and democratic weaknesses will remain. Then, the question is: how to deal with this
economy? The prohibitionist regime has proven to be counterproductive to its
eradication. While the demand persists, in spite of prohibition, the illegality of
the business makes it profitable, and, as such, it creates incentives for being part of
the networks of drug trafficking. Thereby, regulation could be a better way to deal
with this illicit economy. Although by regulating drugs, a parallel market could
emerge, regulation would result in lower levels of violence and corruption.
However, even if Colombia decides to advance towards regulation of drugs, a

third constraint emerges. The countrys autonomy for making this decision is
limited. The international drug control regime has been established through treaties
ratified by the state (Single Convention of 1961 and the Vienna Convention of
1988), and as such, they are legally binding for Colombia. Additionally, their
enforcement is supported by powerful states such as the United States, and it is
unlikely that they will undergo a radical transformation in the short term, at least not
for all illegal drugs. Even if some important changes might be possible for mari-
juana, the most significant problem for Colombia in relation to drug trafficking is
cocaine. Thus, this regime limits the possibilities of structural reforms.
Moreover, if Colombia radically transforms its drug policies but the armed
conflict persists, implementing the changes could face several difficulties. Thus,
drug issues in the country should be thought of as part of a broader spectrum of
problems associated with violence, institutional weaknesses, and democratic defi-
cits. By reframing the understanding of drug issues, Colombia could advance toward
reasonable and democratic drug policies.
Conclusion
Colombia is going through a crucial moment in regard to drug policy reforms.

In addition to the development of a discourse on human rights in the matters of
drug consumption, there is more openness to debate and adoption of broader
reforms. Nevertheless, attempts at reform will have to tackle several challenges.
The considerations above suggest that Colombia needs to persist in confronting
the current international drug control regime and deepen the reforms to its drug
policies. This is important because they have been ineffective and highly expensive.
Thus, in spite of the limitations imposed by the drug control regime, Colombia has
some room for significant, and even structural, changes. Comparative experiences
suggest that it is possible. Uruguay (see Garat in this volume) and some states of the
United States (see Rolles in this volume) have regulated the marijuana market, and
the results at this point are promising. These policies are less costly in terms of
human rights and engender less violence. Besides, the previous consensus
prohibitionism has some fissures, and some opportunities for international reform
have emerged. Although, in the short term, radical transformations are difficult to
achieve, waiting for long-term changes would mean accepting and promoting the
massive injustices created by the prohibitionist regime; therefore, it is important to
envision structural changes of the international drug control regime, and at the same
time, advance strategies in the context and with the limitations of the current
international restrictions.
Colombia could tailor a strategy that combines actions at the national and
international levels. At the internal level, the state should aim to gain greater
autonomy and to strengthen its democratic institutions. In the short term, for
example, Colombia could promote a strategic prosecution, in order to focus on
organized crime and its capacity to exercise violence, instead of focusing on the
eradication of demand and supply. Specifically, the state could concentrate its
efforts on prosecuting dealers who exercise violence instead of focusing on minor
dealers and consumers. A smart intervention by security forces and the judicial
system could contribute to reducing the impact of the current drug policies on
vulnerable populations of society. Although this does not eliminate the balloon
effect, it could reduce the costs of the policies in terms of human rights.
Moreover, Colombia could advance towards a dynamic interpretation of the
international drug control regime in which their international human rights obli-
gations could be key in transforming those particularly repressive and harsh poli-
cies. The International Drug Control Regime reduces room for the state to
maneuver, though it does not eliminate it. In fact, since the current application of
the prohibitionist regime violates human rights and the state has international
obligations arising from international human rights treaties, the state should try to
balance between those obligations and find alternative forms of fulfilling them.
Four basic approaches could contribute to developing more reasonable drug poli-
cies in both the short and long terms: (a) respect and fulfill human rights;
(b) promote the participation of different sectors of society, especially those
directly affected by the anti-drug policies; (c) be designed to take into account
empirical evidence; and (d) to deepen democracy.
At the international level, the state should persist in debating the current policies.
Reforms of the international drug control regime are less likely in the current
context, though they are not impossible. Some changes are possible in the short
term, as the marijuana regulation in some states has shown. Additionally, in the
long term, significant transformations are needed. Thus, debates about the effects of
the current prohibitionist regime are relevant to finding room for reforms and
insights for new approaches.
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Chapter 7
Revolution and Counter-Reform: The
Paradoxes of Drug Policy in Bolivarian
Venezuela
vila
Andres Antillano, Veronica Zubillaga, and Keymer A
Introduction
The reformist wave in Latin America, which questions the dominant hemispheric
anti-drug policy of more than 50 years, occurs at the same time that many countries
in the region have national popular and progressive governments. This does not
seem like a casual coincidence. The new governments have tried to overcome the
neoliberal hegemony of the past and its social effects, including the criminalization
of the impoverished. In this old frame, laws and policies against drugs were an
essential tool. Changes in policies towards drug users in Argentina and Uruguay,
towards peasants in Bolivia, and towards street traffickers in Ecuador, have
prevented thousands of poor people from ending up in prison or subject to repres-
sive policies, as in the past. Moreover, this left turn is a sign of the weakening of
U.S. hegemony in the region, which heldin the policies of the War on Drugsa
paramount means of control and interference. One wonders if the winds of change
in drug policy would have been possible without the emergence of governments
that have marked a clear distance from the dictates of Washington.
A. Antillano (*)
Facultad de Ciencias Jurdicas y Polticas, Instituto de Ciencias Penales, Universidad Central
de Venezuela, Ciudad Universitaria, Los Chaguaramos, Caracas, CP 1051, Venezuela
e-mail: andresantillano@gmail.com
V. Zubillaga
Departamento de Ciencias y Tecnologa del Comportamiento, Universidad Sim on Bolvar,
Edificio Estudios Generales, EGE, Piso 1, Valle de Sartenejas, Baruta, Edo. Miranda Apartado
Postal 89000, Venezuela
e-mail: vzubillaga@usb.ve; zubillagaveronica@gmail.com
K. A vila
Instituto de Ciencias Penales, Universidad Central de Venezuela, Ciudad Universitaria, Los
Chaguaramos, Caracas, CP 1051, Venezuela
e-mail: keymerguaicaipuro@gmail.com

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_7
106 A. Antillano et al.
However, the new Latin American governments stance towards drugs, as can be
seen in this book, is far from uniform, nor are the different political projects of
power homogenous, despite receiving the same rubric of progressive or leftist.
Beyond political alignments, clear contrasts are more than evident between them.
The governments of the Southern Hemisphere have dared to try out bold policies of
decriminalization of drug use and harm reduction programs; the governments of the
Andean region, while recognizing differences, and Bolivia is one among them,
rather have deepened the prohibitionist model and expanded penal responses to
different dimensions of the problem. Even within each country, there are gradations
and contrasts, as, for example, in the Bolivian treatment of the coca leaf compared
to the conservative policies that prevail over other aspects of drug policy, or the
progressive hardening of the positions of the Peruvian and Ecuadoran governments,
after their initial liberalizing gestures.
In this chapter, we will discuss the relationship between this left turn and drug
reform in Latin America, starting with the case of Venezuela. In 1998, with Hugo
Chavez as President, there arose a national popular government that explicitly
pointed at overcoming the legacy of previous neoliberal governments, providing
social justice, and ending the politics of exclusion and repression of the poor,
prevalent at that time, while also flying the flags of nationalism and anti-imperial-
ism.1 Although Chavezs Bolivarian project embodies and discursively radicalizes
many elements of other progressive governments in the region (with emphasis on
the redistributive and social inclusion policies, resistance vis-a-vis American hege-
mony, political mobilization, and participation of traditionally excluded social
groups), other dominant features, such as the military mark, high levels of violence
and criminality or the local effects of Plan Colombia, shape a specific treatment of
the drug problem in Venezuela.
In what follows, we will describe the Venezuelan governments discourses and
policies towards drugs in order to discuss the reasons that support these frameworks
and ponder their consequences in terms of the Bolivarian projects goals. As we
intend to demonstrate, beyond the confrontational speeches against U.S. hegemony
and policies on drugs, the Venezuelan government has adopted, without grievances,
the American model of the War on Drugs.
1
1998 marks the onset of a period of accelerated transformations and conflict escalation known in
Venezuela as the Bolivarian Revolution under Hugo Chavezs government. Venezuela was
subsequently renamed Republica Bolivariana de Venezuela, has become Socialist and the term
Bolivarian has been added to many institutions names to highlight this revolutionary trans-
formation and its novelty: Fuerza Armada Bolivariana, Gobierno Bolivariano, Polica Nacional
Bolivariana. It is not our aim in this paper to analyze or to include these transformations in their
complexity; they fall outside the scope of this paper and have already generated an appreciable
amount of literature.
7 Revolution and Counter-Reform: The Paradoxes of Drug Policy in Bolivarian. . . 107
Feints and Challenges: Venezuelas Position Towards

the U.S. and Its Drug Policy
Since its early years, the Bolivarian governments stance against drug policy has
been marked by clear gestures of independence and challenge to U.S. hegemony. In
May 1999, just months after Hugo Chavez took power, Venezuela prohibited the
DEAs fly-over of Venezuelan territory, citing reasons of national security and
sovereignty, which aroused irritation in the Northern country. There was also a
strong rejection of U.S. military bases and the Plan Colombia advisers, who, on the
grounds of the war against drug trafficking, intended to install themselves in
Venezuela and its neighboring countries, among other measures. This presence
was denounced to be interventionist and a threat to the stability of the region.
This defiant response to the U.S. dictates on drugs intensified in 2002, when the
Republicans returned to power, promoting both a tougher policy towards drugs and
an offensive against Venezuela for being a hostile country. Each country mounted
reciprocal accusations and more and more the issue of drug trafficking began to be
used as a rhetorical weapon. After an escalation of mutual accusations, and espe-
cially after U.S. support of the self-proclaimed 2-day government of Pedro Car-
mona during the coup detat in 2002, in 2005 the Venezuelan government decided
to suspend cooperation with the DEA. That year, the Venezuelan government
expelled the American officers from the state offices from which they coordinated
their operations in the country. Chavez accused American anti-drug agents of
destabilizing actions and the U.S. government of using a double discourse against
drugs.2 From that moment on, the issue of drugs will take center stage in the dispute
between Venezuela and the U.S. Washington will ritually decertify Venezuela
every year for its lack of effort in the fight against drug trafficking, and will
even accuse it of complicity. Caracas, in response, will reject the U.S. self-assigned
position to judge the rest of the worlds policies and will denounce, in turn, its role
in the drug problem (Antillano 2009). In addition, the Venezuelan government has
applauded and supported allied governments gestures to change the terms of drug
policies in the hemisphere, such as Bolivias demand for the withdrawal of the coca
leaf from the list of prohibited substances by the Single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs, and offered to buy part of their production itself. Venezuela also supports the
Uruguayan harm reduction initiative with marijuana.
However, if Venezuela shows itself defiantly in the international arena, in
domestic politics, it behaves submissively. Beyond some marginal eventsin the
constitutional process to 1999, which led to the current constitution and, for the first
2
The leading consumer of drugs in the world is the US and how little do their governments (. . .)
and institutions do to curb drug use. There are great capitals of drug trafficking in the US and
northern countries, banks in those countries that finance drug trafficking (. . .) how strange that no
one discovers them! Having such a great intelligence capability. Having such intelligence assets as
the CIA right? Which is able to guess that there are weapons of mass destruction in Iraq?
(Da Corte 2005).
time ever, the possibility to decriminalize drugsduring these years of the Chavez
government, there have been no clear signs of changing the current policy, in force
now for decades.
Drug Policy in Venezuela: Beyond the Anti-Imperialist

Rhetoric
Despite the rejection of the presence of the DEA in Venezuela, and the anti-
imperialist discourse that the government has raised, Venezuela has shown a
foolproof fidelity towards the War on Drugs model promoted by the
U.S. government half a century ago. This subordination goes back at least to the
1980s, with the approval of the law that incorporates the Vienna Convention. It has
led the country to unreservedly adopt regulations and policies promoted by
Washington; to receive technical and financial assistance for its implementation,
and in the past, allowing US officials to advise, direct and manage the Venezuelan
governments actions against drugs. While the Chavez government had formally
broken with the American government on cooperating in this field, it had
maintained and even deepened the strategy of the War on Drugs.
The War on Drugs involves operating costs, degrees of complexity, technolog-
ical requirements, and military and intelligence operations that impose dependency
on the U.S. government. In fact, this model could be considered one of the
mechanisms of the Northern country to ensure its hegemony in the region. But
breaking the tutelage of Washington in the fight against drugs, while keeping intact
its strategy, reproduces the worst social and political effects of this policy without
having, in return, its expected results.
The model of the War on Drugs promoted by the U.S. and unconditionally
reproduced by Venezuela can be defined by the way it portrays the drug problem,
the policies it imposes and the geopolitics and effects it brings about both nationally
and internationally. This model involves a process of construction of drugs as
serious external and internal security threats; in other words, as a serious danger to
national and citizen security (Astorga 1999; for an analytical framework of
prohibitionism, see Rodrigues and Labate in this volume). Due to this definition
of the problem, and by introducing a war logic, it claims a state response that goes
beyond the legal and ethical limits, silencing opposition and legitimizing a space of
legal exception justified by the danger drugs pose to society and the nation; all of
which foster high gradients of institutional violence, the criminalization of vulner-
able sectors, the diminution of guarantees and human rights, the weakening of
democratic control, as well as producing the penal system overload (Buzan
et al. 1998). Finally, these responses, being subordinated to hemispheric policies,
end up being functional to the interests and security objectives of the U.S., while
reinforcing its regional hegemony.
In terms of its realization, in Venezuela, the War on Drugs is expressed as:

(1) Punitive inflation, expanding the penal types that criminalizes activities and
subjects that in one way or another are associated with the different stages of the
problem (production, trafficking, retail trade, consumption, etc.), hardening the
penalties associated with these behaviors and establishing procedural figures typical
of legal exception, often at odds with the constitutional framework and penal
guarantees; (2) Increased reactivity of criminal agencies against such conducts;
(3) The militarization of the states response to drugs; (4) The focus of state-
sponsored violence towards the poor and vulnerable actors who occupy peripheral
or subaltern positions in drug activities (peasant producers, consumers, micro-
traders and petty traders, women, and poor youth). We will now focus on these
four points.
Increased Penal Severity Along with the flags of social inclusion and political
participation, the Bolivarian project, in power since 1999, aims to overcome the
repressive legacy of previous governments that contributed to the criminalization of
disadvantaged sectors of the population. Indeed, in those early years, prison pop-
ulation decreased, harsh police tactics ceased to be deployed, and there was an
improvement in human rights (Antillano 2012). However, very early, this trend was
reversed and punitive policies of the past were restored and hardened (Antillano
et al. in press; Antillano 2014).
This punitive turn is clearly expressed in drug policy and legal changes, which
have involved increased penalties, extending definitions of criminal behavior, and
decreasing guarantees of due process. These changes have operated through legis-
lative reforms (such as drug law reforms in 2005 and 2010), the creation of new
laws (the Law against Organized Crime), or even by judicial processes, as in a
sentence in 2002, in which the Supreme Court defined drug offenses as crimes
against humanity, and therefore imprescriptible and excluded from procedural and
legal benefits.
Since 1984, the Venezuelan drug laws, and their subsequent amendments in
1993, 2005, and 2010, have been a true reflection of changes in policies and
international standards promoted by the centers of world power. This has not
been an exception in the case of the Bolivarian government, which, beyond the
anti-imperialist rhetoric, has been subordinated to the international law instruments
governing the matter. For example, recent legislation against organized crime
deepened the repression of drugs predominant from the Palermo Convention in
2000 and onwards.
The Venezuelan law criminalizes the different activities related to drugs (pre-
cursors, production, trafficking, trade, possession, and consumption, and money
laundering), creates exceptional procedural figures, and provides extraordinary
administrative arrangements that increase the discretionary power of the state.
Consumption, which in any of the Venezuelan laws since 1984 is punishable
explicitly, is subject to security measures (compulsory treatment), while in practice
it is criminalized through the figure of possession. The distinction between the illicit
possession and consumption, which was preserved by the 1993 law in the laws of
Table 7.1 Some penal types in the drug laws of 2005 and 2010
Penal type 2005 law 2010 law
Crime of trafficking: Those who direct or finance such Punishable by Punishable by 2530
operations 1520 years years
Crime of trafficking: More than 5 kg of marijuana, Punishable by Punishable by 1525
1 kg of genetically engineered marijuana, 1 kg of 810 years years
cocaine, 60 g of poppy seeds or 500 units of synthetic
drugs
Crime of trafficking: less than the previous quantities Punishable by Punishable by 1216
68 years years
Crime of trafficking: 20200 g of marijuana; 5200 g Punishable by Punishable by 812
of genetically engineered marijuana; 250 g of 46 years years (article 149)
cocaine, its derivatives or mixtures; 110 g of poppy
derivatives or up to 100 units of synthetic drugs
Planting and seed trade (laborer) Punishable by Punishable by 1218
35 years years
Planting and seed trade (financer) Up to 30 years (article
151)
Possession of chemical substances Punishable by Punishable by 610
610 years years (article 150) 1
Unlawful possession Punishable by Punishable by 12
12 years years (article 153)
Source: Ley Organica de Drogas- Organic Law on Drugs (Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela 2010)
2005 and 2010, is left to the judges discretion and the experts, essentially
extending the criminalization of users.
Furthermore, with the passing of years, the legislative trend has been to harden.
For example, the drug law reform of 2005 restores the offense of possession of
drugs, which criminalizes consumption and sends users and small, impoverished
sellers to prison; it increases penalties and broadens criminal offenses. The 2010,
reform deepens this shift to further enhance criminal penalties, multiply prohibited
conducts, and increase institutional power to intervene in the most diverse areas on
the grounds of the fight against drugs. Table 7.1 describes some changes that have
occurred between the two legal instruments.
The Organic Law on Drugs from 2010 extends the criminal offenses and
penalties. The law also expands the governments responsibilities and powers
through the National Anti-Drug Office (Oficina Nacional Antidrogas, [ONA]),
which regulates all illicit drug issues. The ONA competes and overlaps with
other authorities and public offices: it has functions similar to the Minister of
Foreign affairs; it has authority to establish and impose administrative sanctions;
it has leading functions on the entire public administration, through administrative
units for prevention of drug use created by laws at all levels of government; it
supervises all treatment programs, both public or private; it coordinates criminal
investigations associated with illicit drugs, displacing the Public Ministry; and,
finally, it has a powerful source of financing due to the National Drug Fund
established with compulsory contributions made by private businesses, in addition
Table 7.2 Charges in drug cases 20012011

2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011
3374 11.296 9928 11.359 22.247 33.851 33.604 55.352 77.841 112.725 112.010
Source: Informe Anual Ministerio Publico. Years 20022012 (Annual report of the Office of the
vila 2014
Public Ministry), cited in Antillano and A
to the control and disposal of seized goods. It is enshrined thus as a meta-state

capable of intervening in different areas of the state and public life.
In short, the 2010 legislation shows a clear regression over previous standards,
which already had a strong repressive component represented, expanding and
intensifying criminal punishment and coercive intervention. In addition to the
increased use of criminal punishment, drug law provides for an increasingly
extensive repertoire of administrative and regulatory areas for state intervention
(advertising, prevention, treatment, banking, etc.).
Increased Reactivity of Criminal Agencies Another central aspect in the domi-
nant strategy against drugs is the overreaction of the criminal agencies vis-a-vis the
repertoire of conducts considered as drug offenses. In the operation of the admin-
istration of justice, the selectivity and the over-representation of this type of
crime is evident. In a review of the Public Prosecutors activities (the public office
in charge of the preliminary investigation),3 as reflected in their annual reports
between 2001 and 2013, the increase of productivity of the prosecution on drugs
in recent years becomes evident:
This increase in the charges could be explained by a greater volume of final
decisions (accusations or charges, dismissals, and files) and therefore, as an index of
more effective fiscal activity. But closer examination reveals a toughening process
rather than increased productivity. On drug cases investigated by the prosecution,
52.8 % of the final decisions are accusations, 8.2 % are filed and 39 % are dismissed
(Tables 7.2 and 7.3).
Regarding these types of crimes, the relationship between dismissals and
charges is reversed compared to other criminal cases, in which the dismissals
comfortably exceed the charges. In other words, the chances of being criminally
charged for a person being investigated by drug offenses are disproportionately
high compared to any other crimes.
Comparing the final decisions of the Direcci on de Drogas (Directorate of Drugs)
with other divisions specialized in investigating other crimes (common crimes,
human rights violations) the differences are striking:
Such an imbalance is clear evidence of the priorities in the criminal policy of the
Venezuelan State: the pursuit of drug trafficking and consumption are held above
other events that threaten protected legal rights, such as the right to live.
3
The preliminary phase or research, conducted by the Public Ministry (prosecutors), involves the
collection of sufficient evidence to decide the cause of the trial and leads to one of three types of
final decisions: accusations (which involves passing judgment), dismissal, and tax file.
Table 7.3 Final decisions of the Public Ministry in 2011

Final decisions of the Public Ministry in 2011
Accusations Dismissals Files
Final decisions in general 8.21 % 71.21 % 20.59 %
Directorate for fundamental rights 3.11 % 65.62 % 31.27 %
Directorate of common crimes 10.01 % 66.95 % 23.04 %
Directorate for defense of women 14.22 % 42.97 % 42.81 %
Department of integral protection of 28.78 % 64.33 % 6.9 %
the family (ordinary crimes and penal
responsibility on adolescents)
Anticorruption directorate 22.16 % 76 % 1.07 %
Directorate of integral 23.21 % 68.35 % 8.44 %
environmental defense
Directorate of drugsa 57.16 % 41.66 % 1.18 %
Source: Informe Anual Ministerio Publico. Years 20112012. (Annual report of the Office of the
Public Attorney) cited in Antillano and Avila 2014
a
This is the substantive directorate of the Public Ministry in charge of processing drug offenses
Militarization The paradigm of the War on Drugs involves the militarization of

drug policy (Astorga 1999; Caldeira 2002; Wacquant 2008). Police and military
forces come to occupy a central role in states responses, increasing its activity and
its power. In the case of Venezuela, the police direct much of their efforts to the
apprehension and prosecution of retailers and consumers of proscribed drugs. All
police plans implemented during the last 10 years, totaling more than 20, incorpo-
rated as a priority the fight against microtr
afico (street-dealing) under the premise
that the trafficking and consumption of drugs has a direct causal relationship to
violence and other forms of criminality. This hyperactivity of the police leads to an
overload of both the justice and prison system for drug offenses, which generally
recruit their customers from the lower echelons of drug activity (Wacquant 2008).
Police hyperactivity is evident in the increasing number of arrests for drug
offenses in recent years. In 2000, according to government statistics, 2341 people
were arrested, while in 2010, this figure rose to 13,132. During that decade, the total
number of people arrested for drugs was 48,212 (ONA 2010). Most of these arrests,
according to the judicial police data, were for consumption and possession of small
amounts, which, in the following stages of criminal proceedings, seem to receive
the treatment of more serious crimes (Antillano and A vila 2015). But, along with
the penalization of the lowest levels of drug-related activities, in recent years, the
police action has also been concentrated in the capture and deportation of subjects
identified as international criminals or kingpins associated with large drug traffick-
ing cartels. In the latest years, 107 capos or druglords were deported, by request
of the U.S., European or Latin American authorities. Likewise, there has been an
increase in seizures of drugs and precursors.
The War on Drugs has led in recent years to the increased participation of the
military. The recent Ley Organica de la Fuerza Armada Nacional Bolivariana
(Organic Law of the Bolivarian National Armed Forces) increases the relative
power of the military. Military are involved in crop eradication, laboratory destruc-
tions, seizures, port and border control, searches, arrests, criminal investigations,
clashes with suspected drug traffickers, involvement in drug dealing, financial
control activities, shooting down airplanes, boarding ships in open waters, control
of land transportation, searches in neighborhoods, prisons, urban centers, recrea-
tional areas, etc. In short, the fight against drugs occupies a prime site in the routine
activities of the armed forces, especially the National Guard, although recently
other components of the armed forces have been involved as well, as the army and
the air force. Regardless of whether its about traditional areas of military inter-
vention (control of borders and airspace, ports, airports, and coasts), or of areas that
overlap and are disputed with the police and other civilian bodies, such as criminal
investigation, patrols, checkpoints or public security, combating drugs tends to
become an exclusive terrain of the armed forces.
On the other hand, drug policy has generally been the responsibility of active
officers of the National Guard. During the last years, most of the Oficina Nacional
Antidrogas directors have been officials of this force, and they run the most
important special unit of drug enforcement in the country. In addition, bellicose
rhetoric has often led civilian police to adopt militarized styles and forms in the
fight against drugs. This is often characterized by extensive use of police violence,
particularly in the case of specialized units.
One recent trend is the growing monopoly of armed forces in the fight against
drugs and the high intensity armed responses by them. A sign of the first was the
abolition of the Direction of Drugs in the investigative police (CICPC) in 2014,
leaving the military agency as the only place for criminal investigations of drug-
related offenses. The extension of the warmongering machinery, and the use of
physical force in greater intensity, is expressed in the legal changes in recent years
that allow the interception of planes and the bringing down of suspicious flights. In
less than a year, more than 60 aircraft have been shot down or disabled.
Judging by the results, and considering the reports of the volumes of cocaine
transiting through Venezuela with destinations to markets in the core countries,
neither the bringing down of aircrafts, nor the increase in seizures, arrests, and
deportations have had the desired effect.
Criminalization of Poverty This sustained tightening of the policy against drugs
in Venezuela is not uniformly directed against all activities related to drug produc-
tion, trafficking, and trade, or against all actors involved. It concentrates predom-
inantly on the lower links of drug trade and socially disadvantaged actors. Although
recent legislative changes increase penalties for all offenses, criminal severity is
accentuated for drug-related crimes associated with planting, production, and sale
of small quantities and possession, which means, in practical terms, the greater
criminalization of street dealing, peasant production, and consumption. The
sentences for trafficking minor amounts of drugs and sowing illegal drug plants
have been increased by double or more, while the penalties for trafficking drugs in
greater amounts or funding drug-related activities increases to a lesser extent. By
extending penalties for possession and leaving to judges discretion to distinguish

between consumption and possession, in practice, the two reforms made during the
Bolivarian government criminalize consumption.
Police activity, beyond the deportation of international criminals or the seizure
of volumes of drugs, is focused almost exclusively on detaining small street vendors
and users, while the penal system processes mainly poor offenders. According to
prison statistics of 2009, the prison population is mostly composed of young poor
men and, and 23 % are in prison for drug offenses (these data were collected before
the last reform of the drug law, which toughens penalties, especially petty crime
associated with drugs, so it is possible that the situation has worsened) (Consejo
Superior Penitenciario 2011).
In sum, during the years of the Bolivarian government, drug laws have hardened;
the reactivity of criminal agencies has been augmented as has police and military
participation; therefore, the criminalization of popular sectors have increased
significantly. Contrary to the winds of reform that sweep through Latin America,
the government of Venezuela has become one of the best examples of the failed
strategy of the War on Drugs in the region. Why is there this paradoxical situation,
in which a government has social inclusion policies and anti-imperialist positions,
and, at the same time, maintains a strategy that reproduces the War on Drugs model
and criminalizes the poor? The answers are complex; in the following section we
will discuss some hints in order to understand this paradox.
Revolution and Counter-Reform
The increased severity of drug policies have come hand in hand with a change in the
narrative of the Bolivarian project on crime, moving from a structural rhetoric, in
which crime is understood as a result of social injustice, maintained during the early
years of Chavez, to a moral discourse, under which the offender is defined by acting
according to individualistic and selfish values associated to capitalism (Antillano
2012). This has resulted in the hardening of penalties and criminalization of the
poor (Antillano 2014; Antillano et al. in press). In recent speeches, President
Maduro has placed delinquents, and especially drug dealers from the slums, as
enemies of the revolution, saying that they reproduce the values of capitalism and
serve the interests of the right. He promised Mano Dura on them (Iron Fist or
Strong Hand are the most common English translation for this style of policy). In
a speech he gave when he was running for president, he even equated the War on
Drugs, specifically speaking about the struggle against barrio dealers, to the war
against imperialism, in defense of the homeland. We will content ourselves with
briefly presenting some hypotheses that might help understand this contradictory
alignment of the Venezuelan government with a policy that has contributed signif-
icantly to reproducing relations of U.S. domination over the rest of the region, and
to perpetuating inequalities and exclusion within our nations.
A Conservative and Moralistic Left The Latin American left has had a position
of indifference, if not of clear support, for drug prohibition (Delmanto 2013),
unaware that historically, the interdiction policies have served to renew the
U.S. hemispheric control in the region and criminalize the popular sectors. One
possible explanation for the predominantly conservative position regarding this
issue may be the particular historical and political processes that the various leftists
projects have attempted in the region. During the 1960s and 1970s, the left in Latin
Americaand Venezuela is no exceptionexperienced armed struggle and resis-
tance to authoritarian and repressive governments that isolated it from countercul-
tural currents on the move during those years. The armed struggle required an ethic
of discipline, sobriety, temperance, and individual courage, even close to
machismo. This commitment to armed struggle also coincided with the arrival of
drugs to urban slums, which was often perceived as a strategy to control and
domesticate the popular sectors by increasing alienation and inhibiting their strug-
gles (Delmanto 2013).
More broadly, this rejection of intoxication would relate to a sort of idealization
of the popular classes, especially workers, as principal agents of revolutionary
transformation, as working subjects, enacting discipline, austerity, and sobriety,
ready for the collective struggle and organization. This position rejects hedonism,
experimentation, altered consciousness, and the pursuit of individual liberation,
typical of the petit bourgeois and of the different alternative countercultural
movements from the middle classes. This position also seeks to dissociate itself
from the lumpen, which is thought to be in favor of individual escapism,
conspiring against the organization and discipline of the working classes. This
dichotomy between good and evil, between workers, on the one hand, and the
bourgeoisie and the lumpen on the other, marked the traditional lefts discourse
about drugs and their users. This position will praise an ethic of work that ironically
ends up consecrating values typical of sacrificed and alienated labor, functional to
exploitation and the interests of the powerful, rejecting leisure, hedonism, and
drunkenness. This rhetoric remains intact even in the current social contexts in
which exclusion from the world of work affects most of the poor, and where the
traditional figure of the worker is increasingly less present in Latin American
societies in the past decades (Svampa 2004).
In recent years, a moral (or ideological) narrative about the poor in the Chavez
governments speeches seemed to gain strength, where the association between
drugs and moral and political degeneration of the popular classes ends up being
related. After the romantic and populist rhetoric of El Pueblo (the people) as the
protagonist subject of great social transformations, it has become increasingly
evident that it is a discourse that emphasizes the deficient condition of the poor:
their precarious ideological commitment, which will explain the defections in the
popular vote when electoral defeats occur, or the reproduction of capitalist values
among them, which will explain crime or conduct at odds with the revolutionary
moral.
In this mutation of El Pueblo from heroic subject to deficient subject, drugs

operate as a discursive resource and political record that could explain the unac-
ceptable behavior of the popular classessuch as the persistence of crime and
violence, political demobilization and immoral behaviorto political actors
among Chavezs government and supporters. Drugs also came to be seen as a threat
to young people, as the cause of violence, as imperialisms business, and as an
expression of capitalist culture that cultivates irresponsibility and consumption.
These narratives legitimize the War on Drugs as a moral and ideological crusade.
The Association with Drug (In)security The legitimizing discourses about the
War on Drugs have shifted in recent decades from public health justifications to an
emphasis on security, coinciding in this mutation with the replacement of the
Welfare State by the Criminal State (Del Olmo 1998; Wacquant 2010). In the
case of Venezuela, drugs have been presented as one of the main causes of the rising
crime wave.
Venezuela has one of the highest murder rates in the continent, while insecurity
has become one of the issues of greatest concern to the public. The difficulty in
accounting for the persistence of violent crime after more than a decade of redis-
tributive policies allows moral explanations, including that drugs are the main
cause of crime, to become central in the official rhetoric about crime. At the same
time, this justifies Mano Dura policies and increased criminalization of the poor
(Antillano 2012).
The association between drugs and crime emerged strongly in the late 1980s in
the United States amid the crisis of crack and a wave of violent crimes (Goldstein
1985). Nowadays, this relationship is questioned, or at least nuanced (Andreas and
Wallman 2009; Snyder and Duran-Martinez 2009; Naylor 2009). In Latin Ameri-
can countries that have been affected by the new regional distribution of drug
trafficking as a result of the effects of Plan Colombia, there has been a considerable
growth in homicides; yet, a linear and mechanical relationship cannot be
established. In fact, various studies dismiss the existence of a strong causal rela-
tionship between drugs and crime for most of the crimes that occur in the region
(see Antillano and Zubillaga 2014).
In our own research, this relationship appears as vague and complex; we are
unable to establish a direct causal effect between drugswhether its consumption
or retail trafficand violent crime. Compulsive drug users tend to be in such a level
of poverty and physical deterioration that they become practically harmless, while
local vendors prefer having their sites free of unnecessary violence, which could
dispel customers and call the attention of the authorities (Antillano and Zubillaga
2014). In a work-in-progress with records of homicides in Caracas, the irrelevance
of the relationship becomes evident, due to the low presence of drugs in the
homicide investigations or in the criminals past offenses (A vila 2014).
Instead, factors associated with the condition of the illegality of drugs and penal
interdiction (the inability to resort to the judicial system due to its illegality, arms
trafficking, police, and military corruption, saturation of the penal system, growing
prison population) would have as much or more to do with violence than drugs
themselves (Andreas and Wallman 2009; Snyder and Duran-Martnez 2009). On

the other hand, the expectation of being recruited as soldiers in charge of security
of the drug business, could promote the deployment of violence among excluded
youth as they seek to acquire recognition in the illegal market (Antillano and
Zubillaga 2014; Bourgois 1995; Bourgois et al. 2013). Furthermore, the criminal-
ization of young people for drug dealing or drug possession destabilizes their
families and communities; it involves the breakdown in the balances of power of
opposing groups in their neighborhoods, while a term in prison often means
entering into professional criminal networks and more sophisticated and dangerous
activities.
The Interests of the Military Corporation The end of the communist threat, of
the insurgency, of the guerrilla warfare, and the cessation of the Cold War led to a
decline of the roles the military had played in the past (defense against external
aggressions, combat against subversion), ostensibly condemning them in this new
context to a secondary role. However, fighting new threats, such as drug trafficking,
terrorism, and other actions that fall into the confusing amalgam of what is defined
as organized crime offers the military the possibility of re-legitimization and a
new field of opportunities (including involving themselves in illicit opportunities),
far from resigning their role (see Jelsman and Roncken 1998). In other words, in the
frame of a possible loss of institutional space and power as a result of global
changes, the War on Drugs ends up being one of the last strongholds that bestow
the military renewed relevance and influence. In a country like Venezuela, where
the military has an important role in domestic politics, sustaining an aggressive
strategy against drugs gives them an invaluable source of justification and political
power.
In recent years, the involvement of the military in drug policy has increased
significantly, and thus their institutional power and their involvement in illegal
activities. The fight against drugs has allowed the armed forces to displace or
subordinate the police in pursuit of street crime and drug trafficking crimes, as
we have highlighted before. The monopoly of the military in the investigations
associated with drug trafficking justifies their further deployment in the territory,
especially in politically sensitive zones (and economically profitable ones) like
borders, ports, and airports. It legitimizes the purchase of military equipment (the
War on Drugs is, along with the defense against imperialist threats, the main reason
for buying war machinery and weapons); it expands the military bureaucracy; and
nowadays, military officers occupy key positions in various agencies involved with
the issueincluding those responsible for drug treatmentsamong other advan-
tages and benefits.
The War on Drugs provides officers of the armed forces opportunities for
institutional and political ascension. For example, the current Commander of the
National Guard (the component of the armed forces that has the greatest participa-
tion in interdiction activities) was, for many years, the director of the leading body
overseeing drug policies, from which he jumped to Ministro de Interior y Justicia
(Ministry of Interior and Justice). The current Minister of Defense previously
played a prominent role in the policy-making and take-down of suspect aircrafts,

which helped to propel him upward politically.
At the same time, the war on illicit drugs offers very profitable opportunities for
military and police. Participation of high rank military in regional drug trafficking
has been known about for decades and charges have been made public; even the
press has dubbed this military clandestine network as the Cartel de los Soles
(A vila 2012; InSight Crime 2013). This participation has become increasingly
visible through recent scandals involving military officers. For example, a seizure
in Paris of 1382 k of cocaine shipped on a commercial flight from the main
Venezuelan airport led to the arrest of several officers of the National Guard.
The conditions of illegality of such a lucrative market and the active involve-
ment of police and military in its ban, as well as in its clandestine traffic, has created
what, in another work, we have called surplus risk, associated with the trade of an
illicit drug such as cocaine and understood as the accumulation of profits through
the different links of the trade, derived from the conditions of illegality and the
disposition to take risks. In this context, the ability to manage risks, engage in large-
scale armed violence, bypass and disable controls, cover up operations or provide
protective cover, typical of professions such as military and police, turns them into
well-appreciated and highly-paid actors in illegal drug economies such as cocaine.
The fact that the military are particularly vulnerable to the seduction of this illicit
economy has been widely reported in the literature focused on the Latin American
experience, particularly in Mexico and Brazil (Astorga 1999; Geffray 2002; Gay
2005; Snyder and Duran-Martinez 2009). Their strategic positions, information
management, access to geographical cardinal points, training in the ability to take
risks and use weapons, and the low formal salaries they receive, result in conditions
that make this sector particularly prone to the lure of the benefits and profits of these
clandestine networks, distracting them from their core obligations and undermining
the legitimacy of institutions and governments in the region (Arias 2006; Antillano
and Zubillaga 2014).
The Use of Drugs as Part of Hemispheric Intimidation With the Reagan
administration, the use of the narco label was inaugurated in the region to
discredit political opponents or governments perceived as hostile (Del Olmo
1992). The accusation of narco-terrorism was used to point at armed leftist
groups and illustrates how the narrative of drugs as evil has gained strength in
the hemispheric political debate. Plan Colombia covered up their counterinsur-
gency objectives beneath the fight against cocaine production. Drugs have come to
occupy the role that the communist threat had in the Cold War, and it has become
one of the main arguments to justify U.S. interventions and policy operations in the
region.
In recent years, the U.S., just as much as domestic political opponents, has often
used this rhetoric against governments of the region that are critical of the hege-
monic role of Washington. Both Venezuela and Bolivia, as well as other govern-
ments in Latin America, have had to deal with open or veiled accusations, often
accompanied by unilateral policy measures from Washington, such as the regular
and ritual decertification processes endured by Caracas and La Paz, or pressures to

Uruguay to abandon its harm-reduction program.
In this hostile context, it is not difficult to understand the hardening of prohibi-
tionist policies in our countries as an attempt, albeit seemingly unsuccessful, to
show willingness to fight drug trafficking and evade accusations that generate
internal destabilization and risks of international sanctions. Notwithstanding, this
undertaking turns out to be contradictory and counterproductive. While denouncing
U.S. interventionism, but giving in to its drug policy, which has become one of the
main instruments to strengthen U.S. hegemony in the region, these governments
contribute to legitimize this hegemony and lose the opportunity to shape a policy
suitable to their own interests.
By insisting on reproducing Washingtons policy, Venezuela not only faces its
deleterious effects, such as the collapse of the administration of justice, prison
overcrowding, growing corruption, and police and military involvement in orga-
nized crime; it also shares its inherent poor results: a limited reduction in the
demand and supply of drugs.
Efforts to show good behavior vis-a-vis Washingtons standards and improve
results in the fight against drugs has not meant a change in the hostile U.S. policy or
a decrease in the accusations of complicity with drug trafficking raised against
leftists governments in the region. Quite the contrary, greater commitment to the
War on Drugs is followed by new U.S. accusations, by the ritual decertification
process, where Venezuela is invariably identifiedfrom a decade agoas tolerant
of cocaine trafficking through its territory.
Concluding Remarks
While the rejection of foreign interference would have led to the breakdown of
cooperation with the U.S. government on drug related issues, Venezuelas continu-
ing reproduction of the War on Drugs model threatens to undermine its sovereignty
and strengthens bonds of dependence toward external powers. First, the current
process of globalization, in the frame of which the regional adoption of the War on
Drugs was an early example, shows how hegemony is exercised, not so much by
exerting coercion or by the presence of occupation forces in the territory, but by
imposing, often by subtle means and with the formulation of global consensus
built by experts, multilateral agencies, and think-tanks, specific agendas that define
and shape local policies (Dezalay and Garth 2002; Wacquant 2000). In the case of
anti-drug strategies, the U.S. has used different agencies, moral entrepreneurs, and
international instruments to impose its agenda to most countries of the world.
Moreover, this strategy requires, for its features and complexity, U.S. military,
police, and economic assistance to be viable. On the other hand, the War on Drugs
involves the confrontation of states with powerful transnational forces that have
large capacities of cooptation and coercion that often succeed to penetrate state
agencies, weakening national sovereignty and state capacity through bribery and
extortion.
Yet, it is clear that the policies against drugs have detrimental social effects.
Extensive evidence already has shown how current drug policies are ineffective in
confronting the powerful groups behind the drug trade, but are successful in
focusing on the weakest links in the chain, serving mainly to criminalize disadvan-
taged social groups. Redistributive policies and social inclusion efforts of the
Bolivarian government are thwarted by an aggressive punitive trend (where perse-
cution of petty street drug crimes has a key role), which increasingly sends to jail
the poorest, reproducing and accentuating the conditions of exclusion and poverty.
Finally, in Venezuela, drug policies have contributed to the establishment of a
militarized state that inhibits the democratization process, reducing democratic
guarantees and impairing the necessary climate for citizen participation, while
institutional violence and repression is favored, especially against popular sectors,
as a form of relationship between state and society.
Acknowledgements We thank Beatriz Labate for being such a wonderful and patient editor,
Jennifer Martinez for her review and suggestions and Clancy Cavnar for her precious English
proofreading.
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Chapter 8
From Freedom to Repression and Violence:
The Evolution of Drug Policy in Peru
Aldo F. Ponce
Introduction
Overall, efforts to reduce the production, trafficking, and consumption of illicit

drugs in Latin America have been repressive since the 1960s. Such repression
started after numerous medical and religious associations, and a considerable part
of public opinion, convinced the United States government to produce extensive
legislation to prohibit the production, consumption, and trafficking of several drugs,
such as cocaine and marijuana, that had been previously legal (Nadelman 1990).
While religious organizations argued that the consumption of drugs threatened
traditional values and the social and cultural composition of the United States,
medical associations warned about the harmful effects of drug consumption. Once
the U.S. government implemented and embraced these recommendations, it led an
international crusade to prohibit and repress the production, consumption, and
trafficking of several (new) illicit drugs. Latin America was not exempt to the
implementation of these new prohibitive policies that spread in the international
scene. Like other Latin American governments, Peruvian authorities also adopted
these prohibitions that were a response to international pressures of powerful
governments and actors.
In this chapter, I analyze how these repressive policies emerged and evolved in
Peru, and why these policies have become increasingly repressive since the 1960s. I
focus on drug policy concerning the production and trafficking of cocaine products
(in its different versions, such as PBC or cocaine paste, and cocaine hydrochloride),
given that Peru has been consistently one of the main producers of these products in
the international market. These products have not only constituted the main illicit
A.F. Ponce (*)

Centro de Investigacion y Docencia Econ
omicas (CIDE), Department of Political Studies,
Sede Region Centro, Aguascalientes 20313, Mexico
e-mail: aldo.ponce@cide.edu

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_8
124 A.F. Ponce
drug produced in Peru but also attracted the attention of international actors
interested in their prohibition.
The Peruvian setting constitutes a most likely casesimilar to those of most
poor and small countries with weak statesin which a considerable amount of raw
materials (in this case, coca leaves) and drugs (cocaine paste and cocaine hydro-
chloride) are cultivated and produced. Anti-drug policies in Peru can be described
as highly repressive, and, in several instances, they have been prioritized over the
respect for human rights. I contend that international pressures have been effective
in making the country comply with the repressive agenda, despite the existence of
comparative advantages for the production and export of cocaine. Key international
actors, especially the U.S. government, created important economic incentives for
enhancing the degree of repression. All attempts to deviate from this pattern have
failed quickly. International pressures have been the most important determinant of
the degree of repression chosen by Peruvian authorities. However, the potential
consequences of repression (further social disorder enhanced by the growth of
subversive groups), the limited capabilities of the state in the Peruvian territory to
provide basic services and public goods such as security, the performance of the
economy (booms or recession), and the type of economic model (neoliberal or
heterodox), have also been key determinants of the degree of repression selected by
the Peruvian government.
Regarding the economic incentives created by the U.S. government, I contend
that access to both the U.S. domestic market through free trade agreements and
international capital markets has been particularly important. In fact, the benefits
created by free trade agreements with the United States triggered the repressive
strategy of the Peruvian government since the 1990s. The Peruvian case shows how
effective the free trade agreements can be to induce countries with relatively open
and small economies to comply with the demands of prohibitive drug policies.
The rest of this chapter is divided into three parts. The first section offers a
panoramic account of the evolution of drug policy in Peru. Specifically, it shows
that drug policy in Peru has transited from freedom (for producing and trading
psychoactive drugs) to repression, and that this evolution has been highly depen-
dent on the agenda of the U.S. government. The second segment explains how the
degree of repression has evolved over time what its determinants have been. This
analysis also takes into account recent developments of drug policy in democratic
Peru. The third section concludes and offers suggestions for future research.
From Freedom to Repression and the Role of the United

States
The appreciation of specific drugs with psychoactive effects for religious and
traditional rituals was evident during several centuries in the Andes. The evidence
indicates that the use of drugs started around 2500 BC (Gomes Pinto 2005).
8 From Freedom to Repression and Violence: The Evolution of Drug Policy in Peru 125
For instance, most pre-Columbus cultures in the Andes employed coca for curative
purposes or religious rituals. Coca leaves were highly appreciated for their nutritive
and analgesic properties (Gomes Pinto 2005; Gootenberg 2008).
The colonization process helped make popular the use of several drugs in all
continents. For instance, coca consumption was allowed as a means to increase
productivity in the indigenous population in charge of extracting mineral resources
(Galeano 2010; Gootenberg 2008; Rojas 2002). These permissive policies
prevailed despite the protests and objections of the Catholic Church, which argued
that coca consumption made Christianization more difficult (Cotler 1999).
During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the use of coca, heroin, and
morphine became popular as means to reduce pain (Cotler 1999; Gootenberg 2008).
Coca also became a much-demanded product during the nineteenth century to treat
respiratory diseases and specific psychological conditions (Cotler 1999;
Gootenberg 2008). Cocas stimulating properties were also employed for the
manufacture of diverse products such as cigarettes, sodas (Coca-Cola), and
ointments. Although Peru took advantage of the international demand through an
increase in its exports of cocaine, other coloniessuch as Java, Sumatra, Malaysia,
Sri Lanka, Nigeria, Lagos, Sierra Leone, and Formosasoon competed in the
international markets and reduced the share of Perus participation in it (Cotler
1999; Gootenberg 2008).
However, this fascination for certain drugs, and especially for cocaine, began
changing at the end of the nineteenth century in the United States (Gootenberg
2008). While physicians started criticizing its use because of its toxicity
(Gootenberg 2008), U.S. citizens increasingly identified cocaine as a non-White
product for consumption by Blacks (Falco 1994; Gootenberg 2008). Its consump-
tion was perceived as a threat to the social composition of U.S. society (Cotler
1999; Falco 1994). In particular, its use was associated with the growth of crime and
prostitution (Cotler 1999; Inciardi 1986). Diverse interest groups and associations
in the United States took advantage of these fears to justify the necessity of
regulating the trafficking and consumption of drugs. Their efforts paid off:
Washington enacted the Harrison Act in 1914 to regulate the trafficking and
consumption of drugs (Gootenberg 2008). According to this new law, producers
and traffickers had to pay taxes, and physicians had to authorize any consumption.
A few years later, in 1919, the Supreme Court of the United States declared that
addiction to cocaine was a crime, and consequently, any medical treatment with the
use of cocaine was also prohibited. These regulations have increased the number of
the incarcerated population in the United States (Blumstein and Beck 1999; Caplow
and Simon 1999).
According to Paul Gootenberg (2008), until 1945, the U.S. government had not
developed any specific foreign policy to make cocaine illegal in the international
arena. Instead, the U.S. government focused on monitoring the growth of coca and
cocaine production in Peru (Gootenberg 2008). Criticism towards these activities
was kept within the buildings of U.S. diplomats in Peru (Gootenberg 2008). Soon
after World War II concluded, the United States government initiated an aggressive
campaign to make the production, trafficking, and consumption of several drugs,
126 A.F. Ponce
such as marijuana and cocaine, illegal in Peru and internationally (Gootenberg

2008). Gootenberg describes this particular context after the end of the war,
At wars end, legal cocaine came to its last crossroad, as Peru faced the United States alone
on the global stage. Former German, Dutch, and Japanese cocaine networks now lay
physically demolished by warfare or under U.S. occupation. The United States had no
need for, nor legal leeway for, imports. Only France and Britain bought Perus crude
cocaine, and in tiny lots. . ..Cocaine was no longer flowing within the context of a multi-
polar world with a diversity of opinions on its place and prospects. (2008, p. 230)
The U.S. government consistently blamed the Andean countries and Mexico for
Americans consumption, and demanded the massive eradication of crops and the
confiscation of illegal shipments before they arrive in U.S. territory (Walker 1992).
The U.S. government also called for the criminalization of those working in the
trafficking of drugs and in money laundering (Ramrez and Youngers 2011).
The contraction of markets for Peruvian cocaine, together with the U.S. pressure,
precipitated the signing of the Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs by 73 govern-
ments in 1961 (Bewley-Taylor and Jelsma 2011) and the ratification of the Con-
vention on Psychotropic Substances in 1971 (Pearson 2001). Prohibitive national
legislations proliferated in order to implement these international agreements (see
the Psychotropic Substances Act for the United States, the Misuse of Drugs Act
1971 for the United Kingdom, and the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act for
Canada). When the Peruvian government signed the Single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs, it had already defined the juridical-medical status of addicts and criminal-
ized the unregulated trafficking of cocaine (Gootenberg 2008).
The U.S. government had declared a large-scale War on Drugs1 that included
the eradication and substitution of coca crops and the detection and confiscation of
illegal shipments (Ramrez and Youngers 2011). Clearly, these policies centered on
restricting the supply of drugs before they reached the U.S. in order to increase
drugs prices for U.S. consumers (Andreas and Youngers 1989; Ramrez and
Youngers 2011). In return for the Peruvian cooperation, the U.S. government was
willing to provide military assistance and resources to help substitute coca crops for
those of alternative products (Ramrez and Youngers 2011).
Any country receiving this assistance must be certified by the U.S. Congress to
continue qualifying for these resources (Ayling 2005). This law, the Anti-Drug-
Abuse Law, was enacted in 1986 during the presidency of Ronald Reagan (Beaver
2010). The certification procedure aims to verify whether countries are complying
with a minimum set of demands established by the U.S. government (mainly
hectares of eradicated coca crops and tons of cocaine seized). Countries can renew
the certification after showing progress in reducing the supply of drugs (Ayling
2005). If decertified, countries are subject to the following sanctions: (a) greater
barriers to trade (higher tariffs and specific restrictions to certain products); (b) the
1
Richard Nixons administration declared a War on Drugs in 1971. In 1986, President Ronald
Reagan officially declared that drugs constituted a threat to national security (Ramrez and
Youngers 2011).
freezing of investment credits and loans for U.S. companies investing in decertified
countries; (c) suspension of U.S. government assistance (alternative development
programs to substitute coca crops for those of other products and logistical support
to Andean military and police forces for the interception of drug-traffickers); and
(d) some restrictions to capital markets for the decertified governments (Hasselroth
2004; Storrs 2005).
To ensure the effectiveness of the first incentive, barriers to trade, the
U.S. government enacted the Andean Trade Preference Act (ATPA) in 1991 to
reward or punish the Andean countries for their compliance or disobedience with
the certification demands. The ATPA removed duties and tariffs on Andean
exports of certain key products to the United States. Other important products
for the Andean countries such as sugar, tuna, shoes, textiles, and petroleum were,
however, excluded from the preferential access to the U.S. markets (Hasselroth
2004). Trade between the United States and the Andean region grew substan-
tially during the 1990s and 2000s, partially thanks to this agreement, and the
Andean exports became more dependent on the validity of this preferential
access to U.S. markets. For example, approximately 55 % of Peruvian exports
entered the U.S. markets under the system of preferential tariffs in 2006 (Bouet
et al. 2008).
The sanctions associated with the decertification, including the potential can-
celation of the ATPA benefits, might discourage investment in the decertified
country as the country loses preferential access to both international capital
markets and important domestic markets. For instance, international investors
are less willing to invest in countries with fewer free trade agreements signed
(Ponce 2006). To sum up, these benefits (and sanctions) for cooperating in the
reduction of the supply of drugs have constituted the carrots (and sticks)
employed by the U.S. government to make other countries comply with the
Prohibitionist agenda (Gamarra 2004).
However, the U.S. strategies to make other countries reduce the supply of drugs
have not been always effective. The U.S. government has decertified several Latin
American countries since this process was created. The list includes Bolivia (1994,
20092014), Colombia (19951998), Guatemala (2003), Hait (19992004), Pan-
ama (19881989, 1994), Paraguay (19982000), and Venezuela (20062014)
(Ramrez and Youngers 2011; see also chapters in this volume).
The decision to avoid the implementation of the U.S. requirements for achieving
the certification is quite complex and depends on a trade-off defined by several
types of potential costs and benefits. Less repression (fewer hectares eradicated, less
prosecution of traffickers and consumers, and fewer tons of cocaine seized) might
reduce crime (van Dun 2012), human rights violations (Navarrete-Fras and
Thoumi 2005), and societal protests from populations dedicated to cultivating illicit
products (Durand 2011) and may lower the incarcerated population, as prosecution
of consumers and small traffickers is reduced (Hasselroth 2004; Penitentiary
128 A.F. Ponce
National Institute 2013). For instance, 52 prisons from a total of 68 are

overpopulated in Peru. Such number could decrease if small traffickers (or only
consumers mistakenly accused of being small traffickers) were not imprisoned. As
a matter of fact, 19 % of the imprisoned population was sentenced for being drug
traffickers (Penitentiary National Institute 2013), the third most frequent cause for
imprisonment (Soberon 2010). The certification procedure and the repressive
strategies adopted by the U.S. government have been also found to boost organized
crime and insecurity in Latin America (Hasselroth 2004).
The U.S. certification also produces gains for those complying with the U.S.s
expectations. Besides accomplishing the benefits stated above, such as fewer trade
barriers and greater access to capital markets, the certification could also bring the
opportunity to enhance the military and the logistic capabilities of the states in order
to gain effective state presence in territories than otherwise weak states could not
control (Cotler 1999; Youngers and Rosin 2005). I highlight that the decertification
does not indicate that a government chose non-repressive policies to reduce the
production and trafficking of illicit drugs. Instead, it signals that a government
selected a relatively low degree of repression (since the production and trafficking
of illegal drugs is forbidden). In fact, only one country in Latin America, Uruguay,
recently decided to regulate the marijuana market under certain specific measures
(for more information, see Room 2013; Pardo 2014, Garat in this volume).
Previous U.S. decertification decisions for some Latin American countries show
that the optimal response to this trade-off has varied across countries. An analysis
that could systematically compare the relative importance of the benefits and costs
of the U.S. certification might help explain why some governments preferred
decertification to the certification (or vice versa). In fact, this work could provide
important insights for those studying foreign policy in Latin America. However,
this exercise deserves the elaboration of a whole separate study. This chapter
focuses, rather, on a single case: the Peruvian one, whose government decided to
fulfill the minimum requirements of the certification evaluation.
Although variation exists in the degree of compliance with the U.S. certification
requirements across countries, the U.S. government is viewed as the primary
responsible actor in the repressive agenda implemented by all Latin American
countries. Its hegemonic position and its economic and political influence in the
international arena after the Second World War, were effective in making all Latin
American countries both declare illicit certain drugs and also to seek the reduction
(to some degree) of their production and trafficking. The Peruvian government was
not an exception. The Peruvian government signed the Single Convention on
Narcotic Drugs in 1961 that declared certain drugs illegal, such as coca, marijuana,
heroin, and cocaine, among others. Finally, the Peruvian government enacted the
Decree Law 22095 in 1978 to facilitate the implementation of the Single Conven-
tion on Narcotic Drugs. The following section informs the political and economic
reasons that explain why the Peruvian government has consistently chosen to
satisfy the certification requirements, though varying the degree of repression.
Choosing the Degree of Repression
Although the Peruvian government has preferred receiving the benefits and costs of
the U.S. certification (and avoiding the benefits and costs of the
U.S. decertification), it has managed to vary the degree of repression depending
on several factors addressed in this section. In this study, repression is
operationalized as how many coca crops were eradicated and how many tons of
cocaine the Peruvian government could seize. This operationalization of repression
presents two relevant advantages. First, these actionseradicating coca crops and
seizing cocaine tonsare precisely the types of measures the U.S. government
demands from Peruvian authorities (in order to increase the price of cocaine before
it enters the U.S. domestic market). Most of U.S. financial contributions also are
destined to be spent in these activities (Koven and McClintock 2015). In fact, if the
Peruvian government did not eradicate or seize cocaine tons over a certain thresh-
old, it might be decertified (which is precisely what the Peruvian government aims
to avoid).
Second, data regarding these actions are available for most of the years studied
since repression within the drug policy realm started. I acknowledge, however, that
other proxies of repression could also be used, such as human rights violations, the
decisions in the courts regarding crimes related to drug trafficking, or the number
and scope of societal protests due to eradication. However, data on these indicators
are not available for most of the studied period. Furthermore, these proxies measure
indirect costs or the consequences of the eradication or prosecution of drug traf-
fickers, rather than the scope of these practices or their immediate costs. Because of
space limitations and data availability, I focus on the first two most significant
measures of repressioneradicated coca crops and seized tons of cocainethat
directly measure the effort made by the Peruvian state to comply with the primary
certification requirements.
It is also relevant to highlight that the decisions to eradicate coca crops and seize
cocaine tons does take into account not only the benefits and costs of the certifica-
tion process but also any additional costs. First, there are important operative costs
of eradicating coca crops, and prosecuting, judging, and incarcerating drug traf-
fickers. These operative costs have been mostly financed by international cooper-
ation, especially from the U.S. government (Garca and Antesana 2010). Second,
there are economic losses for those cultivating coca crops. Considering these losses,
part of the coca peasant communities affected receives (mostly international) aid
for reforestation and agro-forestry where ecosystems were degraded by coca culti-
vation. Programs to substitute coca crops for those of other products are also costly.
UNODC and USAID have been the main supporters of these development pro-
grams (Garca and Antesana 2010). Those peasants who do not receive aid might be
more likely to participate in mobilizations or in violent demonstrations. In fact, this
populations dissatisfaction fuels societal protests and the growth of subversive
groups (Gurr 1970). Governments evaluate all costs and benefits, and choose their
optimal degree of repression. As I show below, the Peruvian government
130 A.F. Ponce
consistently managed to choose a degree of repression that ensured the

U.S. certification, and, at the same time, attempted to avoid further violence and
societal unrest. The following sub-sections show in more detail how the degree of
repression in Peru has evolved over time and what its determinants have been.
First Phase: Relatively Low Political Costs and Low Economic Benefits
(19611980) Before Peru embraced the repressive agenda and signed the Single
Convention on Narcotic Drugs in 1961, the production and trafficking of drugs were
not major problems for the Peruvian government (Cotler 1999; Parra y Guerra
2014).2 In order to implement Decree Law 22095, the Peruvian government created
the Comite Multisectorial de Control de Drogas (Multisectoral Committee of Drug
Control [COMUCOD]), formed by officials of the Ministries of Interior, Presi-
dency, Foreign Affairs, Agriculture, Health, Education, Industry, Justice, and the
Attorney General. Although the Peruvian government seemed to signal serious
intentions of executing the Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs through this
political measure, its execution was timid, ineffective, and unnoticeable by the
media and public opinion (Cotler 1999).
During the 1950s and the first half of the 1960s, the Peruvian economy continued
to experience an important expansion. For instance, the rates of economic growth
during this period were: 7.35 % in 1961, 8.34 % in 1962, 3.72 % in 1963, 6.6 % in
1964, 4.94 % in 1965, and 8.39 % in 1966. Although a massive migration had begun
from the Andes to Lima and other coastal cities during the 1950s, social unrest was
not a major problem yet. Despite this robust growth, the Peruvian state did not
increase its presence in the provinces nor its capabilities to provide basic services.
In 1967, economic growth declined substantially (0.35 % increase), and the
armed forces carried out a coup detat in October 1968. The economic crisis and the
import substitution model implemented by the military, which favored the creation
of employment in the coastal cities, fostered further migration from the Andes to
the coast and Lima. Despite this crisis, the political costs of repressing were kept
relatively low. There were no subversive groups challenging the Peruvian govern-
ment. Since the areas dedicated to cultivating coca crops were still relatively
minimal, the number of families affected due to the eradication was also low.
At the same time, (relatively) important economic benefits of repression were
absent during this phase. A free trade agreement in place between Peru and the
United States or other countries interested in the reduction of drug supply did not
exist. Granting preferential access to the U.S. domestic market had not been used
yet as a strategy to put pressure on the Peruvian government to eradicate coca crops
or prosecute drug traffickers. Most importantly, the U.S. certification procedure had
not yet been created. In sum, the U.S. carrots and sticks had not been fully
developed during this phase. Although the eradication of coca crops did not involve
important political costs for the Peruvian government, it did not bring important
2
For instance, estimations indicate that there were only 16,000 ha of coca in 1963 (Parra y
Guerra 2014).
economic benefits (and economic costs) either. In addition, the bureaucracy in

charge of implementing the repressive agenda lacked the necessary qualifications,
economic resources, and political influence to effectively accomplish their goals
(Cotler 1999). The final result was a relatively low degree of repression.
Second Phase: Relatively High Political Costs and Low Economic Benefits
(19801991) The return to democracy in 1980 coincided with two changes. Pro-
duction and trafficking of drugs and the operations of subversive organizations
expanded considerably during the 1980s3 (Cotler 1999; Parra y Guerra 2014). The
weak or inexistent presence of the state in most of the Peruvian jungle and the
greater profits associated with these illicit activities facilitated both the growth of
both coca crops and subversive groups (Cotler 1999).
It was not a coincidence that the subversive groupsSendero Luminoso (Shin-
ing Path) and the Movimiento Revolucionario Tupac Amaru (Tupac Amaru Revo-
lutionary Movement)often operated in areas close to those dedicated to coca crop
cultivation. The subversive groups benefited economically (food and money for
weapons and other logistic expenses) from the coca peasants to whom the subver-
sive groups provided both protection from the police or the military and assistance
to negotiate higher prices with the international drug traffickers (Cotler 1999; Parra
y Guerra 2014; Kay 1999; Koc-Menard 2007; van Dun 2012). For instance, the
subversive groups charged fees for the protection of airstrips employed to transport
cocaine (Koc-Menard 2007; Navarrete-Fras and Thoumi 2005). The subversive
groups became the trade intermediaries between the peasants and the drug traf-
fickers (Cotler 1999; Koc-Menard 2007; Thoumi 2002; van Dun 2012). At the end
of the 1980s, the economic crisis aggravated,4 the coca crops continued multiply-
ing, and the subversive groups expanded their membership and replaced the state in
most areas dedicated to coca cultivation (Cotler 1999; Parra y Guerra 2014).
Together with these changes, the number of peasants cultivating coca rose because
of the high profits they could achieve (Cotler 1999; Parra y Guerra 2014).
To tackle these challenges, in 1981, the Peruvian government created the
CORAH Project5 to eradicate coca crops at the beginning in the Upper Huallaga
Valley, located in the Department of San Martn, and the Unidad M ovil Policial
3
The number of hectares dedicated to cultivate coca grew from 56,000 in 1982 to 196,000 in 1993
(Cotler 1999). Approximately, 81 % of these areas were located in specific areas of the Peruvian
jungle: in the Department of Huanuco, in the Department of San Martn, and in the Huallaga
Valley (Ossio et al. 1989). This expansion, translated into increases in the production of coca and
its derivatives, coincided with both an increase in the price of coca (de Rementera 1995) and an
increasing migration to the production areas to take advantage of greater income (Alvarez 1999).
4
The Peruvian economy contracted 9.44 % in 1988, 12.31 % in 1989, and 4.98 % in 1990 (World
Bank Database 2015). It also experienced hyper-inflation: 1722.3 % in 1988, 2775.3 % in 1989,
and 7649.6 % in 2000 (National Institute of Statistics and Informatics Database).
5
CORAH was the Proyecto Especial de Control y Reducci on del Cultivo de la Coca en el Alto
Huallaga (Special Project for the Control and Reduction of Coca Crops in the Upper Huallaga).
This program is under the jurisdiction of Ministerio del Interior (Ministry of the Interior) and
executes the eradication of coca crops throughout the Peruvian territory.
132 A.F. Ponce
para Areas Rurales (Mobile Police Unit for Rural Areas [UMOPAR]) project to
detect the presence of coca crops in rural areas. In 1982, the Peruvian government
also implemented the PEAH Project (Proyecto Especial del Alto Huallaga [Special
Project of the Upper Huallaga]) to force the replacement of coca crops with those of
alternative products. PEAH has been mostly funded by the U.S. government.
Finally, the Peruvian government enacted Law 22926 in 1980 to increase the
penalties for possession of drugs. These actions signaled some attempts to enhance
the degree of repression by the Peruvian government during the 1980s, generally as
a response to international pressures, mostly from the U.S. government.
The Peruvian government also launched a war on the subversive groups that, in
several places, kept alliances with the peasants cultivating coca (Cotler 1999; Parra
y Guerra 2014; Kay 1999; Koc-Menard 2007; van Dun 2012). The executive
declared the state of emergency in the Departments of Huanuco, San Martn, and
Ucayali (Law 22927). In attempting to break the alliance of the peasants cultivating
coca and the coca traffickers with the subversive groups, the military interventions
boosted violence and massive human rights violations (Cotler 1999; Switzer 2007).
After creating the certification procedure in 1986, during the second part of the
decade, the U.S. government increased its pressure over Peruvian authorities. The
U.S. government also proposed the creation of multinational military forces to
eradicate coca crops and attack the traffickers operations. The Peruvian govern-
ment rejected this offer because of the potential risks of societal instability and
social unrest caused by the presence of foreign troops (Cotler 1999). If the subver-
sive groups took advantage of nationalistic sentiments, together with the existent
dissatisfaction created by the eradication, massive subversion might have been
more likely to rise. In fact, higher levels of relative deprivation have been positively
associated with greater cooperation with rebel groups functioning within a partic-
ular area (Gurr 1970).
In 1989, the U.S. government launched the Iniciativa Andina (Andean Initiative
program) that provided additional military assistance to the Andean states to
strengthen their repressive strategies. Furthermore, some economic assistance was
promised, conditional on the scope of eradication. This initiativeproposed by the
former president George H. W. Bushaimed to reinforce the military capabilities
of the Peruvian state to eradicate coca crops and capture the traffickers (Youngers
2007).
In sum, the degree of repressionmeasured by the eradication of coca crops (see
Fig. 8.1)moderately increased during the 1980s; in part, responding to
U.S. pressures and incentives. Clearly, these timid efforts remained ineffective:
The number of hectares dedicated to cultivate coca grew considerably during the
decade (see Fig. 8.2). The Peruvian government seemed more interested in com-
bating the growth of the subversive groups than in eradicating coca crops, since the
political costs of the eradication were relatively important (Cotler 1999). The
eradication of coca crops could impoverish a considerable number of peasants
who might then become violent and join the subversive groups. The interaction
between the dissatisfaction caused by eradication and the development of
16000
14000
12000
10000
8000
6000
4000
2000
0
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
Phase II Phase III Phase IV Phase V?
Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration. Figures for the period 19901995 are not available.
Fig. 8.1 Number of eradicated hectares. Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration. Figures for the
period 19901995 are not available
subversive groups created a potentially explosive scenario that the Peruvian gov-
ernment attempted to avoid.
At the same time, the economic benefits of further eradication were also kept
relatively low during the 1980s. The preferential tariff structure to access the
U.S. market for the Andean countries was created afterwards (the ATPA was
created in 1991). Moreover, the Peruvian government had already lost access to
international capital markets during the second part of the 1980s due to the
heterodox and disastrous economic policies implemented during the presidency
of Alan Garca (19851990). Garcas government had refused to pay part of the
Peruvian debts. To sum up, the potential economic benefits of further eradication
(and the certification) were kept relatively low, and the political costs of further
repression increased significantly. The result was a relatively low degree of repres-
sion; a degree not very different from that of the previous decade.
Third Phase: From High-Level to Medium-Level Political Costs; and from
Low Economic Benefits to Medium-Level Economic Benefits (19912001)
Two important events marked the beginning of a new phase in the evolution of
drug policy in Peru. First, the victory of Alberto Fujimori in the 1990 general
elections brought the end of heterodox economic policies in Peru. The semi-
authoritarian6 Fujimori government (19902000) embraced an orthodox economic
6
Fujimoris government has been repeatedly categorized as semi-democratic, semi-authoritar-
ian or competitive authoritarian. For instance, during this period, the executive manipulated
election results, organized a self-coup, and then took control of congress through a solid
majority; the pro-Fujimori congress expelled three members of the Constitutional Tribunal in
1997 after their attempt to block an unconstitutional third presidential term, and took control over
some privately owned television stations through legal stratagems and bribery (Levitsky and Way
2002).
134 A.F. Ponce
140000
120000
100000
80000
60000
40000
20000
0
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
Second Phase Third Phase Fourth Phase Fih Phase
Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration
Fig. 8.2 Number of hectares dedicated to cultivate coca. Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration
model designed to stop the high rates of inflation, reduce the fiscal deficit, and open
the economy by reducing tariffs in order to boost productivity, exports, and
ultimately, economic growth. The life of the import substitution model had come
to an end. In addition, the Peruvian government had adopted every measure to
reestablish its access to the international capital markets. For this purpose, the
Peruvian government initiated a process to renegotiate the unpaid loans that were
granted to previous governments. This renegotiation was essential to ensure a flow
of financial resources that facilitated the success of the model. The support of the
U.S. government was vital to achieve these goals. Due to this new scenario, the
U.S. government gained additional negotiation power vis a vis the Peruvian gov-
ernment to influence the design of the drug policy.
Second, the U.S. government, under the presidency of George H. W. Bush,
enacted the Andean Trade Preferential Act (Ley de Preferencias Comerciales
Andinas [ATPA]) in 1991.7 This law eliminated tariffs to guarantee free access to
the U.S. domestic market for several products coming from the Andean countries.
One important objective of this policy was to promote the development of alterna-
tive crops and industries that could replace the production and trafficking of
cocaine. Furthermore, this preferential mechanism offered important economic
benefits for the Peruvian economy in a critical moment in which the Peruvian
government needed to both stabilize and stimulate its economy. In particular, this
preferential mechanism helped both to boost the development of industries with
7
The ATPA was approved on December 4th, 1991. The ATPA became effective on August, 1993.
comparative advantages and to improve the Peruvian trade balance through greater
exports (Abusada et al. 2004).
Both the need for refinancing overdue loans and the potential access to the
U.S. domestic markets with lower tariffs (on average) increased the potential
economic benefits of complying with the certification demands. Together with the
rise of the economic benefits of eradication and interdiction, the political costs of
the eradication progressively decreased during the 1990s because of three reasons.
First, the price of the coca crops experienced a substantial reduction during the
decade.8 The incessant growth of coca crops in Colombia helped produce this result
(Cotler 1999). This reduction in prices undeniably made the cultivation of these
crops less profitable for peasants; in fact, the number of hectares declined consid-
erably after the reduction in prices (see Fig. 8.2). For instance, the areas employed
for coca crops reduced in 18 % in 1995, 27 % in 1996, 27 % in 1997, and 26 % in
1998. In sum, the number of hectares fell from 119,100 in 1992 to 51,000 in 1998
(see Fig. 8.2). Due to this contraction, the eradication of coca crops would affect
fewer Peruvian peasants; and the likelihood of protests or resistance might have
also become lower. As a consequence, the political costs of eradication for the
Peruvian government were reduced.
Second, the progressive weakening and geographical encapsulation of the sub-
versive groups during the 1990s made the massive support to these groups from
either the peasants affected by the eradication or those detained for their participa-
tion in the production and trafficking of cocaine gradually less risky. At the
beginning of the decade, Sendero Luminoso, the major subversive group, was
certainly powerful. Sendero Luminoso had reached an important number of
militants (25,000) and had under control one-fourth of all municipalities (Eckstein
2001). In fact, at the beginning of the decade, the military focused their efforts more
on the war on the subversive groups than on the war on drugs (Cotler 1999; Thoumi
2002). The Peruvian government was aware that greater eradication of coca crops
could make peasants massively enroll in the subversive groups (McClintock and
Vallas 2003).
Prioritizing the war on the subversive groups over the war on drugs worsened the
relations with the United States, especially at the beginning of the Fujimori
administration (Cotler 1999). In an attempt to minimize the damage in its relations
with the U.S. government the Peruvian government created an autonomous orga-
nization, the Autoridad Aut onoma para el Desarrollo Alternativo (Autonomous
Authority for Alternative Development [AADA]),9 to show the determination of
the Peruvian government to collaborate in the international War on Drugs (Cotler
1999). This organization also facilitated the substitution of coca crops for those of
other products. The rhetoric on the necessity of supporting peasants with resources
to substitute coca crops for those of other products intensified during the 1990s.
8
This decreasing trend clearly changed in 1998, when the War on Drugs intensified in Colombia.
Appendix 1 shows how the prices of a kilogram of coca leaves evolved over time in Peru.
9
See Supreme Decree 158-90-PCM.
136 A.F. Ponce
Although these programs for supporting production of alternative crops started in

1995, they became more effective during the 2000s (Comision Nacional para el
Desarrollo y Vida sin Drogas 2012).
To tackle the destabilizing and violent social context at the beginning of the
1990s, Fujimori appointed Vladimiro Montesinos as the director of intelligence.
Fujimori and Montesinos removed several senior-ranking officials in the police and
the military, and replaced them with reliable and loyal officers to take firm control
of these organizations (Switzer 2007). The unified control of the military could
have strengthened the coordination inside the military to weaken Sendero
Luminoso. In addition, the U.S.s Central Intelligence Agency provided effective
logistic and technological support to the intelligence agency of the Peruvian
National Police (DINCOTE) to track down Sendero Luminoso leaders (Switzer
2007). Fujimori also managed to approve laws conducive to: (a) facilitate the
militarys control of the territories designated as emergency zones; (b) allow the
suspension of several civil rights (such as the detention of subversive militants for
15 days without being processed); and (c) permit judges to remain anonymous
when presiding over terrorist cases (Switzer 2007). Furthermore, Fujimoris gov-
ernment strengthened the mobilization and effectiveness of rural civil squads
(rondas campesinas) by both distributing arms and providing training to them
(Switzer 2007; van Dun 2012).10 There is evidence that these civil squads
cooperated with drug traffickers against Sendero Luminoso in some cases
(Koc-Menard 2007; van Dun 2012).
At least some of these measures proved their effectiveness to deteriorate the size
and organizational strength of Sendero Luminoso. Abimael Guzman, the leader of
Sendero Luminoso, was captured in 1992. The capture of Guzman and other
important leaders destabilized the organization because its subordinate leaders,
usually in charge of Sendero Luminoso cells (small groups of militants), hardly
knew each other (Switzer 2007). Thus, after the fall of its leader and those of other
prominent militants, the internal organization of Sendero Luminoso disintegrated,
and the remaining militants withdrew to specific areas of the Peruvian territory,
especially to the Upper Huallaga Valley (Switzer 2007; van Dun 2012; van Dun
2014). By the end of 2000, the number of Sendero Luminoso militants had dropped
to 100200 (United States and Department of State 2001). The conflict against
Sendero Luminoso precipitated numerous human rights violations, especially in
those areas where civil rights were suspended. According to the Peruvian Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, both the state and Sendero Luminoso produced such
violations during the conflict. The encapsulation of the subversive groups in remote
areas of the Peruvian territories also helped the Peruvian government gradually
increase the eradication of coca crops and the seized tons of cocaine.
10
Once the Fujimoris government ended, the involvement of civilians in the military fights
against Sendero Luminoso was declared illegal (van Dun 2012).
Third, while the subversive groups waned, the Fujimori administration, also
called Fujimorato due to its authoritarian character, stabilized the Peruvian econ-
omy. In fact, inflation dropped to internationally standard levels of 3.47 % in 1999
and 3.76 % in 2000 (World Bank Database 2015). The Peruvian economy also
started to grow again. For instance, the economy registered growth rates of 10.26 %
in 1994 and 5.49 % in 1995 (World Bank Database 2015). The end of the severe
economic crisis, together with the weakening of Sendero Luminoso, not only
helped reduce the social pressures over the Peruvian government, but also increased
the rates of approval of Fujimori and the Peruvian government (Arce 2002; Carrion
2000; Switzer 2007). For instance, trust in the government (some or a lot)
reached the level of 69 % in 1995 (Latinobarometer Database 1995). This context
favored the stability of the regime and enhanced the potential of the government to
eradicate crops and capture drug traffickers, both the big (patrones) and small
(burros or mochileros).
While these three factors progressively ameliorated the political costs of erad-
ication, both the quest to regain access to the international capital markets and the
economic benefits of free trade agreements increased the economic benefits of coca
eradication, prosecution of drug traffickers, and, in general, compliance with the
certification demands. The outcome was further repression and greater effort by the
Peruvian government to comply with the general international policy agenda
imposed by the U.S. government. Both the number of eradicated hectares and the
percentage of coca hectares being eradicated increased considerably during the
1990s (see Figs. 8.1 and 8.3). To achieve these outcomes, the Peruvian government
also enacted the Supreme Decree 8294 PCM in 1994 to define the drug policy
35.0
30.0
25.0
20.0
15.0
10.0
5.0
0.0
19841985198619871988198919901991199219931994199519961997199819992000200120022003200420052006200720082009201020112012
Second Phase Third Phase Fourth Phase Fih Phase
Fig. 8.3 Percentages of coca hectares being eradicated. Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration
138 A.F. Ponce
goals of the Fujimori administration. This decree also aimed to strengthen the drug
policies effectiveness in reducing the supply of drugs (through coca crop substi-
tution). The Peruvian government also consolidated the coordination of drug policy
in the Comision de Lucha Contra las Drogas (Commission for the Fighting against
Drugs, known as Contradrogas), which was designated to develop programs
aimed at the substitution of coca crops.
Fourth Phase: Relatively Medium Political Costs and High Economic Benefits
(20012009) In 2000, Peru transited to full democracy. Fujimoris government,
accused of generalized corruption, human rights violations, and smuggling
weapons to the Colombian guerrillas Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colom-
bia (Revolutionary Forces of Colombia [FARC]), fell on November 22, 2000
(Conaghan 2005; Marsteintredet 2009; Taylor 2001). Alberto Fujimori fled to
Japan and resigned by fax after several videos showing massive corruption were
exposed by the Peruvian media. Those videos showed Vladimiro Montesinos
Fujimoris most important political ally and chief of intelligencegiving cash
money to key politicians, legislators, and media businessmen in exchange for
their support (Cameron 2006). Perus relations with the United States had also
deteriorated before the fall of the Fujimorato because of the smuggling of weapons
to Colombian guerrillas. The withdrawal of U.S. support, the vladivideos, several
other corruption scandals (Marsteintredet 2009; Taylor 2001; Weyland 2006), and
the sudden conflict between Fujimori and Montesinos (Balbi and Palmer 2001;
Cameron 2006) precipitated the fall of the regime. Valentn Paniagua, President of
Congress at that time, assumed the presidency in a context of transition. After
assuming the presidency, Paniagua called for elections. Alejandro Toledo
(20012006), leader of Peru Posible, won the 2001 presidential elections.
The Peruvian government continued implementing orthodox economic policies
based on fiscal and monetary discipline and the boosting of exports. Relations with
the U.S. government also started to improve. The U.S. government renewed its
determination on deepening the War on Drugs, while recognizing the necessity of
strengthening economic incentives for the eradication and substitution of coca
crops. In fact, the U.S. Congress approved the Andean Trade Preference Extension
Act (ATPDEA) in February 2002. Like the ATPA, the ATPDEA also established
the certification as a condition for receiving preferential trade benefits. The
ATPDEA was even more ambitious than the ATPA: The ATPDEA extended the
preferential access to a greater number of products; and these new trade preferences
contributed to strengthening the health of the Peruvian economy (Duran 2007;
Monteagudo et al. 2004). Exports to the U.S. continued to increase at an accelerated
rhythm (Duran 2007), and Peru achieved trade surpluses in 2004 and 2005 (World
Trade Organization 2007). As a matter of fact, the U.S. remained the main desti-
nation for the Peruvian exports during the 2000s. All these factors contributed to the
persistent expansion of the Peruvian economy during the government led by
Alejandro Toledo. The positive impact of the ATPDEA on the Peruvian economy
and the increasing dependence of the Peruvian economy on other markets for
exportation contributed to strengthening the benefits of the repressive agenda.
Clearly, the economic benefits of complying with the certification demands grew
even more during the 2000s.
Peru started negotiations with the United States for signing a permanent free
trade agreement in May of 2004. Unlike the ATPA and the ATPDEA, a permanent
free trade agreement provides a more secure, predictable legal framework for
investors, as the validity of this agreement does not require repeated congressional
re-authorization. The United States-Peru Free Trade Agreement (PTPA) was signed
on April 12, 2006. After the signing of the agreement in 2006, the Peruvian
government initiated intense lobbying to encourage the U.S. Congress to approve
the agreement. The agreement finally entered into force on February 1, 2009.
While the economic benefits of repressive policies continued to increase during
the decade, the political costs of further eradication of coca crops and compliance
with the certification requirements continued declining during the 2000s for three
reasons. First, Sendero Luminoso continued to be encapsulated; specifically in the
Upper Huallaga Valley. Thus, eradicating coca crops did not represent any major
risk of social unrest of peasants joining the subversive groups.
Second, the number of people who considered drug trafficking to be the major
problem in Peru grew during the 2000s. While 0.2 % of Peruvians believed it was
the major problem in 2006, this percentage had jumped to almost 1 % in 2008
(LAPOP Database). Inaction by the Peruvian government to eradicate coca crops or
combat drug traffickers might have produced some loss of political support. Or, on
the contrary, the seizing of cocaine and the prosecution of drug traffickers might
have enhanced support.
Third, the Peruvian economy boomed with relatively high growth rates during
the decade. Despite the relatively low approval rates of former presidents Toledo
(20012006) and Garca (20062011), economic prosperity provided the govern-
ment with more freedom to implement potentially unpopular actions, like the
eradication of coca crops (which causes economic costs for the peasant population).
In sum, the economic benefits of further eradication and certification compliance
grew during the decade. At the same time, the political costs of repression contin-
ued decreasing. The consequence was the enhancement of repression. Although the
Peruvian government developed specific programs for supporting the substitution
of coca crops with those of legal (alternative) products during this phase, the
budget allocated for these programs was significantly lower than that spent in
interdiction (only 62.8 million dollars for alternative development compared to
284 million dollars for interdiction between 2002 and 2010) (Comision Nacional
para el Desarrollo y Vida sin Drogas 2012).
Table 8.1 summarizes the arguments on how the degree of repression has
evolved since 1961 in Peru, and which political and economic determinants pro-
duced such progress over time. Since the 1960s, a gradual increase in repression
through further eradication of coca crops and the seizing of cocainehas charac-
terized drug policy in Peru. Although this increase in eradication has not been lineal
or at a constant rate, it has been robust enough to both reduce the number of
cultivated coca hectares during the Third Phase and keep relatively constant this
number during the Fourth Phase. Figure 8.1 shows an increasing trend in the
140 A.F. Ponce
Table 8.1 Choosing the degree of repression: The benefits and costs of eradication
Relatively Relatively Medium- Relatively High-
Low-Level Eco- Level Economic Ben- Level Economic
nomic Benefits efits (existent free Benefits (existent
(inexistent free trade advantages to access free advantages to
advantages to access the U.S. market with access the
the U.S. market with Peruvian products- U.S. market with
Peruvian products; ATPA; orthodox Peruvian products-
ISI model) policies) ATPDEA; orthodox
policies)
Relatively Low Politi- Phase I (19611980)
cal Costs (relatively Low level of
low number of peas- repression
ants cultivating coca
crops, limited pres-
ence/lack of subver-
sive groups)
Relatively Medium Phase III (19912001) Phase IV
Political Costs (rela- Increasing the degree (20012009) High
tively medium number of repression level of repression
of peasants cultivating
coca crops, focalized
presence of subversive
groups)
Relatively High Polit- Phase II
ical Costs (relatively (19801991) Low
high number of peas- level of repression
ants cultivating coca
crops, presence of
subversive groups)
number of hectares eradicated over time. Figure 8.3, which exhibits the proportion
of coca hectares being eradicated (as percentages of the total number of coca
hectares cultivated in the previous year), confirms the existence of an increasing
trend in the degree of repression of drug policy in Peru. It is not coincidence then
that the series of prices of a kilogram of coca leaves also presents an increasing
trend and is positively correlated with the magnitude of eradication (Appendix 1
displays these prices). Greater eradication has been constricting the supply of this
product, and, ultimately, increasing its prices in the market.
As Figs. 8.1 and 8.2 show, the degree of repression was even lower during the
phases of greater cultivation of coca crops (Second Phase). The comparison of these
figures suggests that the expansion of coca crops (during the 1980s) did not make
the Peruvian government eradicate further. It was instead the relative absence of
relevant domestic or international incentives that did not encourage the Peruvian
state to eradicate further or in the magnitudes of the Third and Fourth Phases. Over
time, both the adjustment of the U.S. strategies to put more pressure on the
governments of the Andean Region and the decline of the subversive groups
boosted greater repression in Peru. This repression exerted by the state translated
25.0
19.7
20.0
17.7
16.8
14.7
15.0 13.5 14.0
12.7
11.8 11.4
10.7 10.8
9.9
10.0
8.1
7.3
6.2 6.3 6.3
4.6 5.1
5.0 4.1 4.43.6
2.9
1.4
0.0
2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012
PBC or cocaine paste cocaine hydrochloride
Fig. 8.4 Number of tons seized. Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration
not only into greater eradication, but also in a higher number of tons of drug seized
(PBC or cocaine paste and cocaine hydrochloride). Figure 8.4 displays the number
of seized tons of cocaine. Clearly, all these figures indicate a consistent increase in
state actions to combat drug trafficking during the third and fourth phases.
A Fifth Phase? The United States-Peru Free Trade Agreement (PTPA)
and Drug Policy Has the replacement of the ATPDEA by the permanent United
States-Peru Free Trade Agreement eliminated most of the U.S. influence to affect
drug policy in Peru? Is this change important enough to justify the beginning of a
fifth phase? It is perhaps too premature to claim the inauguration of a fifth phase
considering the (still) limited amount of evidence and available data on state actions
to combat drug trafficking in Peru. Moreover, the available figures suggest that
there has not been any major change or deviation from the results achieved before
the end of the ATPDEA. These facts do not suggest the beginning of a fifth period.
If the levels of repression continued being relatively invariable, one question to
ask is why there was no major change in spite of the loss of one of the
U.S. governments main mechanisms to influence drug policy in Peru (ATPDEA)?
It is possible that the deeper integration of the Peruvian economy into the interna-
tional markets (and especially to the U.S. economy) and the relative success of the
neoliberal orthodox model in Peru to boost economic growth had enhanced sub-
stantially the economic costs of the other measures established by the
U.S. decertification (beyond the loss of free trade with the U.S.). It is also plausible
that the U.S. government had already calculated this change before approving the
PTPA agreement. The agreement would finally integrate further both economies
142 A.F. Ponce
reducing even more the likelihood of any possible deviation of Peru from the
repressive agenda.
The victory of Ollanta Humala (a former military and leader of the Partido
Nacionalista or Nationalist Party who carried out a coup attempt during Toledos
government) in the 2011 general elections for leading the Peruvian executive
created expectations of major deviations in the macro-economic policies. This did
not occur despite some promises made during the previous electoral campaigns in
which Humala competed. Humala also designated Ricardo Soberon as the new
chief of the Comision Nacional para el Desarrollo y una Vida sin Drogas (National
Commission for Development and Life without Drugs or DEVIDA)11 on August
5, 2011. The designation of Soberontraditionally critical of the repressive drug
policy in Perucreated expectations of a relevant deviation from the repressive
agenda (Koven and McClintock 2015).12 Several politicians and part of the media
criticized this polemic designation for (potentially) changing the War on Drugs in
Peru. Sober on could not complete not even 6 months leading DEVIDA and
resigned on January 20, 2012. After his resignation, the Peruvian government
designated Carmen Masas to lead DEVIDA. Masas soon intensified the repressive
agenda by increasing the eradication of coca crops in 2012 (see Fig. 8.1). Did the
designation of Soberon constitute an attempt to reform drug policy in Peru? If that
was the case, it was quickly corrected. In fact, the Humala administration has more
than tripled spending on coca eradication, interdiction, and alternative crop devel-
opment (McClintock 2016). As I mention in the introductory section, all attempts to
deviate from the repressive path have failed fast.13
Conclusions
A gradual upsurge of repression has characterized drug policy in Peru. Over time,
stricter compliance with the U.S. agenda on illegal drugs has become increasingly
beneficial for the Peruvian government and for some part of the population thanks
to the free trade agreements and preferences granted by the U.S. The benefits have
reached to those citizens integrated into the international economy; especially to
11
DEVIDA is currently in charge of designing and implementing policies to control the produc-
tion and trafficking of illicit drugs. This institution also cooperates with the UNODC to identify the
development of coca crops in the Peruvian territory. CORAH, instead, focuses on executing the
eradication of coca crops.
12
For instance, consult: http://goo.gl/325Dm9. In addition, the Peruvian government removed
Gen. Carlos Moran as the chief of the Anti-Drug Directorate of the National Police or DIRANDRO
(Koven and McClintock 2015).
13
Another episode occurred in 2007. Alan Garcas Minister of Agriculture promised both
stopping the forced eradication of coca crops and abrogating the Peruvian signature of the 1961
Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs. The Minister soon after had to resign (Ramrez and
Youngers 2011).
those working in transnational companies or in firms being part of the chain of

production for exporting. In addition, compliance with the certification demands
also helped the Peruvian government recover access to international capital mar-
kets, which constituted a necessary step to bringing the monumental economic
crisis of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s to an end. The benefits of eradication
progressively increased because of the growing economic integration to interna-
tional markets, the success of the orthodox economic model implemented in Peru,
and the decline of the subversive groups. The Peruvian government seemed to have
adapted to the international and domestic contexts by manipulating the degree of
repression to ensure receiving these benefits. The repetitive result has furthered
eradication and repression over time. Like in Peru, this diagnosis tends to prevail in
small, economically highly dependent, and peripheral countries.
At the same time, the Peruvian government managed to choose a level of
repression that did not compromise the success of its war on the subversive groups.
It is also plausible that American authorities understood well the Peruvian govern-
ments goals and costs and had designed an incentive scheme that made cooperation
with the repressive agenda from Peruvian authorities possible. The result was a
relatively stable status quo: repression intensity was increasing over time as its
benefits and beneficiaries were growing gradually. Neither the Peruvian nor the
American government deviated substantially from cooperation, as both actors
found any major deviation less beneficial than the cooperative status quo. Any
significant deviation from this equilibrium will depend mainly on changes on how
the War on Drugs is developed in the international arena.
These benefits have not been gained without costs. As noted above, eradication
brings abundant social and economic costs, mostly producing economic losses to
peasants cultivating coca or other products in surrounding areas. Even if the
eradication is complemented by programs for the development of alternative
crops and products, eradication of coca crops is considerably disruptive for peas-
ants lives, as their budget cycles would be suddenly interrupted. In addition, these
programs have been poorly funded and implemented mainly in the Departments of
San Martn and Ucayali. The Peruvian state also lacks the necessary capabilities to
be effective in their implementation. Peasants face substantial distress if they
cannot satisfy their immediate basic needs due to the loss of their crops. These
potential acute economic crises could cause hundreds or thousands of additional
Peruvians to join organized crime or the remnants of Sendero Luminoso.
Furthermore, organized crime, in charge of protecting the interests of drug
traffickers, feeds from the illegality in the production and trading of drugs.
Crime, human rights violations, and violence flourishes and multiplies most in
poor countries with weak states (like the Peruvian one) that adopt the Prohibitionist
agenda. This problem is latent and could lead to social disasters (e.g., Sendero
Luminoso in Peru and cartels in Colombia and Mexico). Organized crime can also
penetrate political institutions, especially subnational governments, potentially
affecting public policies and boosting corruption and money laundering (Ponce
2016). Drug traffickers also affect the freedom of the press by intimidating and
assassinating journalists (Andreas and Youngers 1989).
144 A.F. Ponce
Moreover, eradicating coca crops and interdicting cocaine might trigger human
rights violations as peasants, consumers, and traffickers pose resistance (Navarrete-
Fras and Thoumi 2005). Finally, the arrest and processing of small traffickers has
contributed to overpopulation in the prisons not only in Peru, but also in other Latin
American countries (Perez-Correa and Ponce 2015; Soberon 2010). Overcrowding
has triggered physical abuses and psychological damage inside prisons, including
the Peruvian ones (Perez-Correa and Ponce 2015; Penitentiary National Institute
2013).
Certainly, the high price of the repressive path is very costly but, given the
Prohibitionist international regime, its effects are difficult to avoid with respect to
the production and trading of drugs. Considering that a unilateral deviation from the
Prohibitionist path would be very costly due to U.S. punishments, the Peruvian
government could coordinate with other governments in the region to seek change
in the Prohibitionist regime and replace it with legal regulation of the consumption
and commerce of drugs. A shift from a criminal model to a health-based model is
much needed.
Appendix 1: Prices of Coca Leaves in Peru (US$/kg)

4.0
3.5
3.0
2.5
2.0
1.5
1.0
0.5
0.0
1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012
Second Third Phase Fourth Phase Fih Phase
Phase
Source: UNODC; Authors elaboration.

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Chapter 9
Social Control in Bolivia: A Humane
Alternative to the Forced Eradication of Coca
Crops
Thomas Grisaffi
For over three decades a central element of US anti-drug policy in the Andean
region has been the aggressive eradication of coca crops (coca is used to process
cocaine). This is generally done manually; eradication teams, accompanied by
heavily armed members of the security forces, enter small farmsteads to uproot
coca crops.1 The logic underlying supply side enforcement is that if production is
wiped out at the source, then the drugs will never reach US streets. Not only is this
strategy inefficient,2 but it also generates myriad harms. Eradicating crops in the
Andean region destroys local economies, criminalizes some of the poorest and most
vulnerable sectors of society, and opens the space for the violation of human rights.
When coca grower leader, Evo Morales, was elected President of Bolivia in
2005, he vowed to end the US backed War on Drugs. On entering office, Morales
advanced an innovative policy that allows farmers to grow a limited amount of
coca, known as a cato (an area of land measuring 1600 square meters) to ensure
some basic income, while working with coca grower federations and units of the
security forces to voluntarily reduce any excess coca production. The overriding
aim of the policyreferred to here as the cato accordis to limit harms to coca-
grower communities. Moraless approach has shrunk coca production and had
immediate positive impacts, including cutting human rights abuses and allowing
farmers to diversify their sources of income. In spite of these successes, the US has
been very critical, and, since 2008, has placed Bolivia on a blacklist of countries
that do not cooperate in the fight against drugs (see Pearson and Grisaffi 2014).
1
Colombia is the only government to use aircraft to spray herbicides to destroy coca bushes. In
2015 Colombia suspended its aerial fumigation program.
2
When crops are eradicated in one area they simply expand elsewhere, a phenomenon known as
the balloon effect.
T. Grisaffi (*)
Institute of the Americas, University College London, 51 Gordon Square, London WC1H 0PN,
UK
e-mail: t.grisaffi@ucl.ac.uk

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_9
150 T. Grisaffi
The objective of this chapter is to describe how farmers, who depend on coca for
their livelihoods, have experienced a range of coca control policies. It begins with a
brief overview of coca use and production in the Andean region, paying particular
attention to the Chapare, one of Bolivias principal coca growing zones. The
chapter then outlines the harms associated with US-backed forced crop eradication
and the failure of alternative development to offer farmers realistic livelihoods.
The second half of the chapter provides a grassroots assessment of Moraless new
coca control policy. It is argued that, by addressing the underlying causes of coca
cultivation including poverty, unemployment and lack of state presence, it might
prove to be more effective at constraining coca production in the longer term, than
was the previous strategy of forced eradication.
This chapter is based on more than 30 months of ethnographic fieldwork in the
Chapare region of Bolivia. The research was spread over several visits between
2005 and 2014. To gather data, the author carried out interviews and participant
observation with a broad range of informants, including peasant farmers and their
families, landless laborers, local agricultural union leaders, pichicateros (people
who work processing cocaine paste and trafficking it), members of the security
services, and political leaders, including mayors, councilors and members of
congress. In this chapter, only public figures are named.
Andean Coca
Coca (Erythroxylum coca) is a perennial shrub native to the Andean region; it

grows like a weed in semi-tropical areas at elevations of between 200 to 1500 m.
Coca leaf has been used for millennia by indigenous peoples in the Andean
countries; it is most commonly chewed, a practice that is referred to in Bolivia as
pijchar or acullicar. A small quantity of coca leaves are pushed into the cheek
and left there for up to two hours. Many chewers add a pinch of bicarbonate of soda
or lejia, (a soft, dark tarry substance), which acts as a catalyst to help release the
leafs active properties. Coca leaf is also prepared as a tea. According to a recent EU
funded study, around three million Bolivians regularly consume coca or coca-based
products (El consumo habitual de coca se da en tres de cada diez personas 2013).
The most prolific users are laborers, truckers, and farmers, who value its qualities as
a mild stimulant. To illustrate cocas restorative properties, one male informant in
his late fifties explained, I could just chew banana leaves but I dont because they
dont have what coca does, it has vitamins, calories, and nutrients. Without coca I
am lazy. Academic research confirms that sustained coca use has no harmful
impact on the consumer (Burchard 1992). Likewise, a 1995 study by the World
Health Organization came out in favor of coca and argued that its widespread use
would be positive for humanity (Metaal et al. 2006).
Alongside its nutritional benefits, coca also serves important social and cultural
functions. The anthropological record shows the importance of sharing coca as a
means to establish good social relations in highland communities. Coca also acts as
9 Social Control in Bolivia: A Humane Alternative to the Forced Eradication of. . . 151
a mediator between human and supernatural worlds; for example, it is a central

component of divination ceremonies, and forms a central element of a burned
offering known as a Qowa, which is done to appease the Pachamama, an
Andean earth deity3 (Allen 1988; Carter and Mamani 1986). Coca is also used to
cure a broad range of ailments, ranging from headaches to diabetes. Indigenous
rights activists have drawn on this long history of coca use to argue that chewing
coca represents one of the most profound expressions of Andean culture (Grisaffi
2010). However, while coca leaf consumption is widely considered to be a marker
of Andean identity, we cannot assume that coca use today is a continuation of
pre-Colombian practices. Some historians have argued that coca only came to be
widely used in the 1600s as the Spanish colonizers promoted consumption among
the indigenous population in order to improve productivity in the silver mines of
Potos (see Gagliano 1994).
Despite its many positive benefits (not to mention the coca trades historic
importance to the regional economy), the leaf has always occupied an ambiguous
position in Andean society. During the colonial period, conservative forces viewed
coca as an addictive substance and vilified coca chewing as a disgusting habit that
contributed to degradation of the indigenous population (Gagliano 1994). It was
only with the discovery of cocaine in the 1860s, and the rising popularity of coca
based products in Europe and North America (including health-tonics such as Vin
Mariani and Coca-Cola), that coca leaf gained more respect in the Andean region.
However, toleration of coca was short-lived, and by the early 1900s, North Amer-
ican progressives had outlawed cocaine and set in motion events that would
eventually lead to the criminalization of coca leaf as well (Gootenberg 2008).
In 1961, the status of coca leaf as a dangerous drug was enshrined in law with its
listing alongside heroin and cocaine on the UN Single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs (the most important international legal framework for drug control). The
convention calls on signatory governments to eradicate all coca bushes, even those
that grow wild, and to abolish the traditional practice of coca leaf chewing. The
convention does however include an important exception that allows the export of
coca as a flavoring agent, to allow for the continued manufacturing of Coca-Cola in
the United States. While the Andean countries have made many attempts to
negotiate an exceptional status for coca and its traditional uses, subsequent con-
ventions, including the 1988 Convention against Trafficking of Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances, held up these hardline positions (Metaal 2014).
Bolivia currently has 23,000 ha of land under coca cultivation, which generates
between 32,000 to 40,000 MT of dried coca leaf annually. This represents 20 % of
total global coca production, and places Bolivia in a distant third place (after Peru
and Colombia) on world coca rankings (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime
(UNODC) 2014). The two most important coca-growing regions in Bolivia are the
Yungas of La Paz, which accounts for 66 % of total coca production, and the
3
Coca is also often used by miners in offerings to the Supay, a devil figure thought to be the owner
of the minerals in the mines (Nash 1979).
152 T. Grisaffi
Chapare, which represents around 33 %. The two regions have very different
histories and cultures relating to coca cultivation. Aymaras have cultivated coca
leaf in the Yungas valleys for well over 1000 years. Coca from the Yungas supplied
the Inca Kings and later, during the colonial period the mines of Potos. To this day,
most consumers want to get hold of Yungas leaf to chew, as the leaves are smaller,
greener, and are said to be tastier.4 In contrast, the Chapare has only been settled
since the 1950s, and its coca production has historically been destined for the
cocaine trade (see Leons and Sanabria 1997).
Given the cultural significance attached to coca in Bolivia, lawmakers were
required to permit limited coca leaf production to supply the domestic traditional
market. As a result, Bolivias anti-drug law 1008 (passed under intense pressure
from the US government in 1988) dictates that 12,000 ha of coca can be legally
cultivated in designated traditional growing zones; principally, the Yungas of La
Paz. Under Law 1008, coca cultivation anywhere outside of these areas, including
in the Chapare, was outlawed and subject to systematic eradication over the coming
years.5 This chapter focuses on coca control in the Chapare, as it is here where
US-backed eradication campaigns were most forceful and it was the Chapare
Unions that developed the cato accord in the first place.
The Coca Boom
The tropical area of Cochabamba (henceforth referred to as the Chapare) is located

at the eastern foot of the Bolivian Andes. It covers some six million acres of humid
tropical forest and is characterized by high temperatures, low elevations, and heavy
rainfall. Migration to the region began in the 1950s, when The National Revolu-
tionary Movement (MNR by its Spanish acronym) government opened up penetra-
tion roads into the region and highland peasants settled the land. The early settlers
established small family-run farms on plots measuring from 10 to 20 ha. Relying
only on manual labor, they cultivated a range of crops, including rice, bananas,
yucca, citrus fruit, and coca for their own consumption and to sell in the market.
Drawing on their experience of peasant unionism in the Cochabamba valleys, the
settlers established village-level unions known as sindicatos (syndicate: a village
level union organization). The sindicatos soon became the greatest expression of
community-based organizing in the region and, given the virtual absence of the
4
A significant portion of the Yungas coca crop is diverted to the cocaine trade.
5
The government, in collaboration with coca grower unions from the Yungas and Chapare, are
currently in the process of re-writing law 1008 which will be replaced by two separate laws: one to
control coca, and a separate law to deal with controlled substances.
state, they took on the role of local governance, including the allocation of land,
administering justice, taxing the coca trade, and investing and building public
works such as schools and roads.6
In the early years, the pace of migration to the Chapare remained low and there
were high rates of abandonment. However, this all changed in the early 1980s when
increasing demand for cocaine in the US and Europe made cocaine paste (an impure
form of cocaine) the nations most profitable export commodity and created an
economic boom in the Chapare. Throughout the decade, tens of thousands of
ex-miners, factory workers, and peasants from the highlands descended on the
region to try their luck in the burgeoning coca-cocaine economy. The migrants
found work planting and harvesting coca leaf and processing cocaine paste in the
rudimentary cocaine laboratories. By the mid-1980s, the coca-cocaine industry
provided jobs for up to 20 % of the nations workforce and generated around
600 million dollars annually; equal to all other legal exports combined (do Alto
2007). It has been argued that, by providing jobs and much needed foreign revenue,
the cocaine industry cushioned the impact of the neoliberal structural reforms
throughout the 1980s (Blanes 1989).
To this day, the Chapare farmers remain dependent on coca cultivation for their
livelihoods. They grow coca because it has several comparative advantages as a
cash crop. Coca grows like a weed, it can be harvested once every 3 to 4 months, it
is light and easy to transport, and almost all of the investment corresponds to labor
costs and not to tools or other inputs, which leads to elevated levels of employment
involving both sexes of all ages. Significantly, coca leaf generates far higher returns
per hectare than any other crop and there is always a guaranteed market for it
(Spedding 2004). As one female coca union leader in her early 30s explained coca
leaf, its our subsistence, its for the family, it allows our children to study, pays for
our clothes, visits to the doctor, and our food.
While the global cocaine economy is worth upwards of $85 billion dollars
annually, only a tiny fraction of the profits make their way back to the Andes.
The farmers do not get rich from cultivating coca; rather, it complements subsis-
tence farming and, in the absence of other income-generating activities, is one of
the few pursuits that provides them with ready access to cash. The majority of
Chapare farmers live below the poverty line, and the quality of life in the region has
remained very low; away from the main roads, houses are built from rough cut
planks with dirt floors, and do not count on electricity, sanitation, or running water.
6
Over the past 30 years the state has expanded into the Chapare but the sindicatos continue to fulfil
many of the functions typically associated with the state (Grisaffi 2013).
154 T. Grisaffi
Forced Coca Eradication
In the mid-1980s, the US launched a coca eradication campaign in the Chapare to

tackle escalating coca cultivation and cocaine production in the region.7 In spite of
significant pressure emanating from the US, coca eradication initially got off to a
slow start. President Jamie Paz Zamora (19891993) followed a course of coca
diplomacy, his government entered into dialog with the coca unions and compen-
sated growers for eradication at a rate of $2000 per ha8 (Painter 1994, p. 25).
Meanwhile, during Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozadas (19931997) first administration,
eradication was also taken at a slow pace and coca reduction efforts included
elements of compensation and dialog.9 De Lozada resisted the US embassys
calls to carry through with forced eradication because he worried that facing up
to the powerful Chapare coca unions risked de-railing his plans to sell off the few
remaining state owned enterprises (Hylton and Thomson 2007, p. 98).
In 1997, Hugo Banzer (an ex-military dictator) and his Nationalist Democratic
Action party (ADN by its Spanish acronym), came to power on a platform to
restore national dignity by tackling the coca-cocaine issue head on. On entering
office, Banzer implemented a no-holds barred accelerated eradication policy,
known as the Dignity Plan, with the aim to destroy the entire Chapare crop by
2002. Under the Dignity Plan, eradication was carried out by US trained and funded
security forces and was done without prior consultation or compensation. The
Dignity Plan dramatically reduced the amount of land under coca cultivation in
the Chapare, and was championed by the US as a significant victory in the War on
Drugs. However, the results are less impressive when viewed in relation to the
Andean region as a whole. Focusing eradication efforts in the Chapare simply
displaced coca cultivation to other parts of Bolivia (including the Yungas) but
also to Colombia; a clear example of what policy makers refer to as the baloon
effect. Thus, in spite of eradication efforts, overall coca cultivation and cocaine
production in the Andean region has remained remarkably stable (Dion and Russler
2008; Ramirez and Youngers 2011).
Quite apart from being inefficient, the policy generated widespread harms. The
immediate impact of eradication was to wipe out the farmers main source of
income, leaving them destitute and struggling to survive. Farmers remember that
at this time children went hungry and there was no money to pay for health care or
education. One female coca grower in her 60s remembered, it was so sad, we were
so poor that all the children had for lunch was a stale bun. Godofredo Reinike, the
7
For example in 1986 the US government sent 160 US army officers and six Black Hawk
helicopters to the Chapare to assist in eradication and interdiction missionsthis was denominated
Operation Blast Furnace.
8
Paz Zamora drew upon the coca growers own distinction between coca and cocaine and the
government even proposed exporting the coca leaf for medicinal teas.
9
In 1993 cash payments were replaced with agricultural credits and other forms of development
assistance, as cash payments were found to encourage farmers to re-plant coca.
human rights ombudsman to the region during the Dignity Plan, confirmed that
between 1997 and 2003, the farmers suffered from an increase in malnutrition and
preventable infectious diseases. In light of these harsh conditions, many farmers
opted to abandon their land; they moved to the peripheral areas of the city of
Cochabamba, where they found work in the informal economy. Those who were
too poor to leave had no option but to weather the storm.
The decision to orientate the security forces towards internal enemies opened
the space for the violation of human rights. Between 1997 and 2003, 35 coca
farmers were killed and 587 were seriously wounded. In addition, the soldiers
sent to uproot coca bushes were denounced for a range of atrocities, including
rape, theft, intimidation, beatings, and torture. Under the terms of draconian law
1008, over 700 union leaders were held indefinitely without charge on little or no
evidence These harsh measures prompted reprisals which in turn left 27 police and
military dead and 135 wounded (Ledebur 2005).
US involvement in Bolivias drug war undermined national sovereignty. Not
only were national level politicians beholden to the US embassy, but so too were the
troops on the ground. Newspapers reported that the security forces and some public
functionaries (including public prosecutors) involved in the drug war received a
bonus of up to 3000 Bolivianos (around 400 dollars) a month on top of their normal
salary, which was paid directly through the Narcotics Affairs Section of the US
embassy (Policias de Umopar reciben bono mensual 2006). Until 2002, the US
embassy also operated its own paramilitary unit, the Expeditionary Task Force,
which Ana Maria Romero, the Human Rights Ombudsman to Bolivia at the time,
classified as mercenaries (Ledebur 2002).
Alternative Development
One of the key pillars of the Dignity Plan was to provide the coca growers with
alternative sources of income. The United States Agency for International Devel-
opment (USAID) plowed millions of dollars into the region in a bid to encourage
farmers to plant legal export crops such as bananas, coffee, cacao, palm heart, citrus
fruit, pineapple, and timber. However, these initiatives were not met with much
success because, unlike coca leaf, the technical and commercial aspects of cultiva-
tion were simply not appropriate for the small-scale producer. For example, crops
such as bananas require a substantial initial investment, agro-chemicals, and large
tracts of land in order to be profitable; meanwhile, substitute crops, such as coffee
and cocoa, take a long time to mature, so dividends only appear after several years.
As assistance was conditioned on the prior eradication of coca, many farmers went
bust before they could harvest their substitute crops and were faced with the decision
of either re-planting coca or going hungry (Lupu 2004; Farthing and Kohl 2005).
The most serious limitation for crop substation projects was the lack of markets
for tropical products (USAID made little or no effort to search for new markets for
the products that they were encouraging farmers to plant). The domestic market for
156 T. Grisaffi
oranges and pineapples is saturated, and so prices are very low; meanwhile, the
international market for cash crops is notoriously vulnerable to dramatic shifts in
price. Moreover, the small-scale producer (located in a landlocked country with
poorly maintained roads) cannot really compete with the coffee, cocoa or palm
heart production from countries that have long been established in these markets
(Spedding 2004). It is also worth noting that the United States has kept its markets
closed to many tropical agriculture products, such as sugar or soybeans, that
represented possible substitute crops that could have been grown in the Chapare
(Stiglitz 2002, p. 61).
Given the lack of viable markets, farmers complained that it often made more
sense to let the substitute crops rot in the fields than to go to the expense and effort
of harvesting them. As one middle-aged female farmer said, Sure, we have other
products . . .you can grow just about anything in the Chapare; it is a fertile place.
But these products are only good to eat! They have such low prices. We have
oranges, thousands of oranges, but when we take them to the market they dont sell!
Sometimes you invest all of your money transporting them to the city, but then you
dont make back what you paid out. Thats no way to live! Given that USAID
encouraged farmers to take out loans in order to diversify their production, when
markets failed to materialize, many were pushed further into debt.
USAID projects were designed and administered by a group of highly paid
external consultants. The coca growers complain that most of the money that was
destined for their communities was instead spent on overheads for the workers,
including luxury cars, hotels, and offices; a situation which inevitably generated
resentment. Furthermore, the policy of USAID was non-collaboration with either
the Coca Union or the municipal governments (which since 1995 have been under
the control of the coca union). Rather, USAID set up associations of producers that
ran parallel to the coca syndicates. People who joined the associations had to agree
that they would not grow coca and that they would denounce their neighbors who
continued to do so. The sindicalistas identified the members of associations as
traitors who were working against the interests of the coca union. Fights between
the two sides (which sometimes meant fights between neighbors) were common.
The coca union leaders came to the conclusion that USAID intended to break the
organization through a strategy of divide and rule, one leader said, we realized that
the Yankees were trying to make us fight between comrades. And Feliciano
Mamani, the Mayor of Villa Tunari, explained, the NGOs came here to destroy
the organizations. In response to the perceived threats to the integrity of the
movement, the coca unions expelled USAID from the Chapare in June 2008.
The Political Ascent of the Chapare Coca Union
Throughout the 1970s, the 1000 plus base level syndicates coalesced into centrals,
which in turn formed into federations. Today, there are six federations of Coca
Producers representing some 45,000 families in the Cochabamba tropics; there is
also a womens federation, which works alongside the existing structure. Each
federation is organizationally linked to national worker and peasant federations.
Given the power vacuum left by the destruction of organized labor in the 1980s, the
coca union came to represent the vanguard of social and political struggle in the
country.
By the mid 1980s, discontent was brewing in the Chapare; coca prices were
falling and impending anti-narcotics legislation (law 1008) threatened to outlaw
coca cultivation altogether. What is more, the state had started to show its teeth; in
June 1988, government forces murdered 12 coca farmers during a violent confron-
tation on a bridge over the Chapare river, an event which is remembered to this day
as the massacre of Villa Tunari. At the Coca Federations 1988 general assembly,
Evo Morales and his collaborators10 took control of the largest and most militant
Chapare union, called Federation Tropico. Under Evos control, the union radical-
ized and vowed to defend territory and coca leaf; indeed, the coca growers battle
cry became Long live coca! Death to Yankees! The coca unions repertoire of
protest included coca chew-ins, setting up camps in city plazas, blocking Bolivias
main trunk road (which runs through the Chapare), and undertaking long marches
from the Tropics to the capital city, La Paz. The coca union also established limited
self-defense committees with the aim to prevent the military from eradicating coca
plantations. These groups were lightly armed with mauser rifles dating back to the
Chaco War (19321935) and homemade land mines known as cazabobos or fool
hunters. In response, the government criminalized the unions, and dozens of
leaders were incarcerated on charges of terrorism and armed insurrection (Ledebur
2005).
The coca growers battle was not only concerned with facing down the state,
however. In response to new political spaces opened up under the 1994 Popular
Participation law, the coca growers set up their own electoral vehicle, which later
ran under the registered title of the Movement Towards Socialism (Movimiento Al
Socialismo or MAS, by its Spanish acronym). The aim of the MAS was to take coca
growers concerns to the national political arena, but also to open out space so that
coca grower leaders could enter into positions of state power. The MAS elaborated
a nationalist popular discourse, which emphasized national sovereignty, including a
rejection of neoliberalism, the end of US backed coca eradication, and the nation-
alization of Bolivias natural resources. The coca growers party had immediate
electoral success and, by 1997, it controlled most of the town halls in the Cocha-
bamba Tropics. Municipal government proved to be a good training ground for the
nascent party, and, in 2005, only 10 years after it was established, Morales and the
MAS won the national presidential elections with a decisive majority; a feat that
was repeated in the 2009 and 2014 presidential and legislative elections.
10
They referred to themselves as the Broad Front of Anti-Imperialist Masses (Frente Amplio de
Masas Anti-Imperialistas).
158 T. Grisaffi
Social Control
On coming to power, President Morales institutionalized a radical approach to coca

control. The policy, which was initially designed by the coca unions,11 allows
registered farmers in established cultivation zones to grow a limited amount of
coca known as a cato. An important element of the new policy is social control,
which encourages the unions to exert internal controls to ensure that the growers
stick to the one cato limit. Morales also extended the amount of coca that can be
grown nationally from 12,000 to 20,000 ha. The additional 8000 ha are distributed
between the Chapare (7000 ha) and colonization areas adjacent to the Yungas
traditional zones (1000 ha).
Under the new regime, the coca unions are responsible for ensuring that mem-
bers respect the one cato limit. The unions are well positioned to do this, as they
have a long history of self-governing. In order to gain a cato, each union member
first has to register for a legal land title, biometric identity card, and have their coca
plot measured and logged by the state coca monitoring institution, The Economic
and Social Development Unit of the Tropics (UDESTRO, by its Spanish acronym).
Each coca farmer is required to sign a contract stating that he or she will not exceed
the one cato limit. Base level sindicatos then carry out regular checks of coca
plantations to ensure that all members comply with the agreement. If a union
member breaks the cato accord, then the sindicato has the power to destroy the
coca and ban the individual from planting coca for a period of 1 year. Repeat
offenders are sanctioned with a permanent ban on coca growing. The sindicatos are
serious about compliance. The figures speak for themselves: to date, more than
800 farmers in the Chapare have lost their right to grow coca for breaking the
agreement (Unos 800 cocaleros perdieron cultivos 2014). Farmers describe the
new regime as really tough ( jodido).
Farmers have very good reasons to exert pressure on their peers. In response to
the question do farmers respect the cato? I was frequently told of course: Its our
cato, we fought for it, and we died for it. Some farmers simply looked aghast
and asked do you know what we went though to get this? How could we not
respect it? At a more practical level, farmers know that by restricting coca
cultivation, the price of coca goes up. In the words of one farmer we work less,
but make more money. Community pride also plays an important role in ensuring
compliance: if a sindicato is not exercising adequate control then the sindicato is
named and shamed on the coca unions radio station. As a consequence, the
sindicato in question will lose influence within the hierarchical union structure,
and it can even damage relations with the coca union-dominated town halls. Union
leaders and municipal councilors confirmed that public works funding would be
suspended to sindicatos that do not respect the cato. In a region where many lack
access to basic services, including roads, electricity and sanitation, this constitutes a
11
The cato accord was first ratified in 2004 under the Mesa administration (20032005) as a
temporary measure to calm escalating tensions in the Chapare region.
significant threat. One union leader said, If you go to the Town Hall and your
sindicato has not respected the cato, its like having a criminal record. No one will
attend to you. Finally, the coca growers identify strongly with the goals of the
MAS administration, and growers consider that respecting the cato is the best
support they can offer to the governments efforts to lobby the UN to
decriminalize coca.
The cato agreement directly clashes with coca grower economic self-interest,
and so it is inevitable that a minority do not comply with the rule. Some simply
plant more coca on the same piece of land and hope that nobody notices. Others
have attempted to subvert the regime in more subtle ways; for example, up until
2010 (before land registry was complete in the Chapare) it was not uncommon for
people to split their 10 ha farms into two smaller plots, registering the extra plot in
another family members name, thus affording them two legal catos on what is
essentially the same piece of land. Others bought up additional land in distant
villages and registered it in the names of family members so they could have an
extra one or even two catos. As these catos are often registered under the names
dead relatives, they are referred to as ghost catos or catos fantasmas. The
federations are determined to eradicate these ghost catos to ensure that each
farmer has only one What is interesting is that, even when people break the rule,
they do so within the parameters of the agreement, which goes to show that social
control must, to some extent, be working.
UDESTRO is responsible for ensuring that the sindicatos comply with the cato
accord. A team of topographers referred to as the Lobos are deployed in heli-
copters all over the Chapare to measure coca plantations and they uproot anything
in excess of the one cato limit. In contrast to the past, such revisions are carried out
in conjunction with local communities; indeed, the Lobos first task is to meet with
members of the community to discuss how and when revisions will take place. As
the sindicatos know when to expect a revision, they uproot all excess coca in
advance, thus UDESTROs presence rarely generates conflict. Moreover, the
majority of Lobos are sons of coca grower families, and as a result, they are viewed
as compa~ neros (comrades). As one female farmer explained, they understand
that we depend on coca we can talk to them, if there is a problem, then we can find
a solution. In addition, despite the fact that UDESTRO is a state agency, it is
subsumed to the Coca Union. The director of UDESTRO is himself a coca grower,
who was nominated to the position by the Coca Union and, once in office, he
remains under the Unions control. For example, when the author of the present
article attempted to solicit an interview with the director of UDESTRO in
November 2013, he was informed that he would first have to obtain permission
from the General Secretary of one of the six Coca Unions.
The state has not surrendered control to the unions entirely, however. There is
still a militarized unit called the Surazo Force (Fuerza Surazo) that will forcibly
eradicate coca when sindicatos are not compliant. However, in contrast to the past,
today, eradication is not accompanied by violence. One of the reporters from the
coca union-owned radio station explained, before, we were all terrified of the
security forces; but now, it is not like that. Now there is communication, we have
160 T. Grisaffi
reached an agreement. If they have to eradicate coca then we let them, but now they
respect our rights. Most coca growers agree that, with the cato accord, their
economic and social situation has improved enormously and, most importantly,
the violence and human rights abuses associated with eradication are seen as a thing
of the past.
Social control appears to be working. In Moraless first four years as President,
coca cultivation increased, expanding from 27,500 ha in 2006 to 31,000 in 2010.
However, by 2013 coca cultivation had shrunk back to 23,000 ha, a 26 % drop from
the 2010 high, and the lowest level recorded since 2002 (UNODC 2014). These
reductions are likely to be more sustainable than gains achieved in the past because,
as will be shown below, under the new model, farmers have been able to success-
fully diversify their sources of income. Most importantly, Bolivia achieved these
impressive reductions without violating human rights (Ledebur and Youngers
2013).
Diversifying the Economy
One of the big gains of the new model is that, by providing a secure environment, it
has opened space so that farmers can try out alternatives to coca. Today, develop-
ment actors, including UDESTRO, municipal and regional government, and the
European Union, work directly with the coca unions (rather than against them) to
develop appropriate and sustainable development programs. Further, in contrast to
the previous strategy that made access to assistance dependent on the prior eradi-
cation of coca, the government now recognizes the importance of coca as a source
of income for the family unit to ensure that basic consumption needs are met. This
is positive because the revenue from the cato (which amounts to around 200 dollars
per month: slightly more than the minimum monthly wage) represents a guaranteed
income, taking away some of the risk associated with experimenting with alterna-
tive crops or livestock farming.
The government has provided farming communities with access to mechanized
tools to speed up production, such as rice husking machines and tractors,
established cold chains for dairy produce, and built fruit, honey, and fish processing
plants in the region. These initiatives have expanded the market for local produce.
One farmer explained that the fruit juice processing plant (a state owned enterprise
run by a local union) buys his oranges at a set price, and does not require him to be
part of a producers association. He said that as a result, in contrast to when
USAID was active in the region Today, there is no division within the communi-
ties. Today, we are more united than before.
Giovanni Terazzas, the architect responsible for UDESTROs development arm,
spoke about the success of fish farming in the region: we set up 12 model ponds,
and they were a success. The farmers saw that it was profitable and they said I can
do it too and they started to dig their own pools: now there are 82 such ponds. The
farmers concur with Giovannis analysis. One woman explained that her fishpond
generated twice the revenue of a cato, and she said that she might abandon coca
altogether. Combined, these projects are reducing the farmers dependency on coca,
with many now describing coca in terms of a savings account rather than their
main source of income for daily expenditure. Giovanni stressed, It is incredible to
see the whole family working together, no longer fearful but happy because they are
doing well and can imagine better days ahead. UN figures support this positive
appraisal. Today, banana, citrus fruit, and palm heart cover far larger areas of
cultivated land than coca in the Chapare. The UN attributes this advance to
sustained, integrated development efforts (UNODC 2014).
Government investment in infrastructure, institutional strengthening, and social
development has bought the Chapare into the social and economic mainstream.
Chapare residents claim that today there are more jobs in non-agricultural work,
government scholarships have allowed their children to study at university, and
access to cheap government loans means that they are now in a position to start their
own businesses. Accordingly, the local economy has started to grow; when the
author first arrived to the Chapare in 2003, most people used bicycles to get around,
but today they have Chinese-built motorcycles, and some even have cars. The coca
growers have begun to replace their wooden shacks with houses made from bricks
and mortar, and, as a result of government infrastructure programs, even poor
houses now have access to basic services. One of the unintended, yet positive,
consequences of the cato accord is that people are now less likely to migrate. Many
young men and women, some of whom had firm job offers in either Spain or
America, said that they had decided that it made more sense to stay rather than take
jobs abroad, as they could now earn a dignified living in the Chapare and be close to
their friends and family.
However, not all growers are so sanguine. The benefits of government-backed
development projects have mostly accrued to people who live close to roads in the
main colonization area. Those who live in isolated and hilly areas have found that
they still face many of the same challenges as before. In these regions, most cash
crops will not grow because of the steep slopes and sandy soil, and the roads and
bridges, if they exist, are woefully inadequate, making the area impassable for
weeks at a time during the rainy season. Local sindicatos have called on the
government to help them to diversify their sources of income and improve the
infrastructure. Failing that, they demand the right to cultivate two catos of coca
because, as a result of the poor soils, yields from the cato are far lower than in the
main colonization area. The governments reticence on this matter has caused some
of the base level members to grumble; they ask, if all we get is a miserable cato,
then what did we bother fighting for? The coca growers will not turn on Morales
most are too afraid of a return to forced coca eradication to do thathowever, there
is an increasing feeling, particularly in more remote areas, that he has distanced
himself from the movement and abandoned their grassroots practices of direct
democracy (Grisaffi 2013).
162 T. Grisaffi
Challenges to Social Control
While the growers are serious about exercising social control, there are still
challenges associated with the implementation of the cato agreement. Historically,
the power of the sindicato was rooted in its control over land tenure; anyone who
did not comply with the sindicatos strict rules of conduct would face sanctions
backed up by the threat of expulsion from the community and the confiscation of
land. However, now that each member has an official land title, they are less
compliant, and some openly flout sindicato authority. The evisceration of sindicato
power has led to a process of demobilization. Grassroots members frequently claim
that less people turn up for meetings or political rallies and there is a growing
reluctance to pay monthly subscription fees to the Union. Demobilization could
pose a problem going forward because it will undermine the sindicatos ability to
effectively exercise social control.
Another perverse consequence of land titling is that land prices have shot up by a
factor of 10 over the past 8 years. As a result, landless farmers have been priced out
of the market; meanwhile, those with more than one plot have been able to
(illegally) register them under different names and thus gain more catos of coca
from which they can derive significant income. The outcome is that inequality
between coca grower households has increased. Some farmers noted that their
richer neighbors have used cash to influence community decisions, breaking the
egalitarian ethos that characterizes sindicato decision-making (Grisaffi 2013).
Again, this challenge to sindicato authority could have an impact on the ability of
coca farmers to self-police in the longer term.
At the moment, the government allows 7000 ha of coca to be grown in the
Chapare, This means one cato per union member, or just over 40,000 catos. Neither
the Coca Union nor the government will permit any more catos to be planted in the
Chapare. Hence, the only way to acquire a cato is if it is reallocated from another
person. There are already arguments occurring between sindicato members about
the corrupt distribution of catos. Further, there is an emerging generational divide
between older people who have land with a legal cato, and their children who,
because of rising land costs, may never be able to acquire one. A potential outcome
is that people without land will move deeper into protected areas to set up farms
where they can illegally cultivate coca.
Coca Yes, Cocaine No
Peasant leaders point out that Andean cultures have used coca for millennia and it
has done their communities no harm whatsoever. They blame foreigners or
gringos for adulterating their sacred leaf with chemicals to produce cocaine.
This sentiment is captured in a mural painted on the wall of the coca unions
radio station which states . . .For us, the coca leaf is the culture of our ancestors. . .
to them it causes insanity and idiocy. The government draws on the coca unions
distinction between coca and cocaine to argue that coca, in its natural state, is not a
drug. Indeed, Bolivias 2009 constitution states that coca represents the nations
cultural patrimony, a renewable natural resource, and an important element for
social cohesion. Thus, one of the fundamental pillars of the governments new coca
strategy is the legalization and industrialization of coca-based products.
To this end, the coca union has organized many events to illustrate the positive
aspects of coca leaf, including a national day to celebrate the coca leaf and coca
chew-ins outside the US embassy. Meanwhile, President Morales has gone before
the UN on numerous occasions to argue that coca is not cocaine and that it should be
removed from the list of controlled substances (Morales opposes the decriminal-
ization of cocaine). Moraless efforts have been met with tough opposition, how-
ever. The G8 countriesled by the USAhave opposed the de-listing of coca leaf,
stating that it would undermine the integrity of international drug conventions.
Nevertheless, Morales did score a small victory in 2013, when Bolivia won the right
to permit traditional coca consumption within its territory.
The coca unions are very enthusiastic about the industrialization of coca.
Grassroots members believe that there is an enormous market for coca leaf-based
products. Imagine how many people would buy coca tea in China! exclaimed one
leader. The coca unions hold regular meetings to discuss industrialization and have
made efforts to encourage the rank and file to grow organic coca that could be
used for export products. For its part, the government has funded the construction of
a coca-processing factory in the Chapare and has restored two older plants in the
Yungas to manufacture a range of coca-based products, including coca flour,
tea-bags, shampoo, Christmas cakes, liquor, and skin creams. However, the con-
tinued illegality of coca at the international level has undermined these plans, as
coca and coca-based products cannot be exported. Consequently, the coca
processing plants are functioning well below capacity and the local population
often refers to the plant in the Chapare as a white elephant.
The legal domestic market cannot soak up Bolivias coca production. An EU
funded study estimated that Bolivia only requires 14,000 ha of coca to supply the
traditional market; far below Bolivias actual production, which stands at around
23,000 ha. Given the lack of legal alternatives, a great deal of the Chapare crop ends
up in the maceration pits, where it is transformed into cocaine paste. One union
member, who is in charge of a local coca market said, almost none of the coca
makes it to the market, most goes straight to the jungle [to be processed into paste].
Meanwhile, coca merchants complained that, when they sell coca through the
official coca market (to be sold for traditional use or processed into licit goods at
the new plants), they lose money.
164 T. Grisaffi
Drug Trafficking
In spite of the significant drop registered in coca production, the cocaine trade in
Bolivia has grown over recent years (Farthing and Kohl 2014, pp. 139141). This is
because traffickers have developed new ways to process cocaine paste that require
lower volumes of coca leaf. But, more importantly, Bolivia has become a transit
route for much cheaper Peruvian cocaine paste, which is trafficked across the
country to Argentina, from where it is shipped to West Africa and on to Europe,
and Brazil (which is now the worlds second largest market for cocaine).
Today, the Bolivian cocaine trade is dominated by family clans who transport
paste and run small processing sites situated in rural communities and urban
neighborhoods throughout the country. The larger capital-intensive production
sites, where paste is refined into pure crystalized cocaine, are most commonly
located in rural areas of Beni and Santa Cruz departments, or else it is processed
across the border in Paraguay and Brazil. The government acknowledges that
emissaries from Peru, Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico are present in Bolivia, partic-
ularly in Santa Cruz, where the drug trade, along with the associated problems of
violence and corruption, have thrived in recent years12 (Farthing and Kohl 2014,
pp. 139141).
The Bolivian government came under heavy criticism in 2008 when it decided to
expel the Drug Enforcement Administration on the grounds of sedition (the ambas-
sador Phillip Goldberg was also expelled at the same time). However, the Bolivian
government has been keen to show the international community that it is committed
to tackling the emerging drug problem, and has taken an uncompromising approach
to enforcement. In spite of the decrease and eventual cessation of US funding for
counter-narcotics operations (all US funding for counter-narcotics operations in
Bolivia ended in September 2013), the Bolivian security forces have nevertheless
increased the seizures of illicit drugs and the destruction of drug laboratories over
recent years (Ledebur and Youngers 2013).
Bolivias coca policy is not designed to limit drug trafficking, but there is
evidence to suggest that, since the launch of the cato accord, the coca growers are
now motivated to actively collaborate in the fight against drug production. Each
sindicato ensures that none of its members are involved in processing cocaine paste.
If a production site is found on a members plot, then the landowner will immedi-
ately lose their cato and potentially also their land. The profits derived from
processing cocaine paste are so slim that most farmers are not willing to run this
risk. Rather, they are much more likely to denounce traffickers to the police. One
drug worker lamented, before, the compas (coca growers) would tell you when the
UMOPAR (anti-drug police) were coming. Now they just turn you in. As a result
of this pressure, the drug workers have been forced to alter their behavior, with
many shifting their operations outside of the Chapare and into urban areas (Grisaffi
2014).
12
Bolivia still boasts one of the lowest homicide rates in South America (see UNDP 2014).
Conclusion
The evidence outlined here suggests that the coca unions are very serious about
implementing the cato accord. They have made sincere efforts to keep a cap on coca
cultivation and to stop cocaine paste processing in the region; of course, the system
is not perfect, some people do break the rules, but the majority does not. The data
speaks for itself; since 2010, Bolivia has witnessed a dramatic fall in coca acreage,
driven in a large part by the efforts of the Chapare coca union. Most importantly,
reductions have been achieved while simultaneously respecting human rights. It is
hardly surprising then, that the Organization of American States (OAS) has classi-
fied Bolivias co-operative model of coca control as best practice that is worthy
of replication.
More broadly, this chapter illustrates the fallacy of Prohibitionist policies and
supply side enforcement. The illegal drug trade is driven by consumers and, for as
long as there is external demand for cocaine, people will keep growing coca. Thus,
all that drug policy makers can realistically achieve is to affect where coca is
grown; they will never eradicate it entirely. In this context, policy makers would
be well advised to take note of the Bolivian experiment, which represents a more
sustainable, effective, and humane alternative to the forced eradication of coca
crops. In this authors opinion, a better answer still would be to legalize coca at the
global level to permit Bolivia to export coca-based products.
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Chapter 10
History and Changes of the Drug Policy
in Argentina
R. Alejandro Corda and Diana Rossi
Introduction
In Argentina, the policy on drugs1 was developed during the twentieth century,
privileging the criminal prosecution as its main tool. Since the 1920s, when the first
modification to the penal code related to these substances was devised, various
reforms and discourses that expand that response by toughening the penalties have
been implemented. Although this process has been apparent since the 1960s, that
tendency became stronger during the 1970s and the end of the 1980s, following
international legislation on narcotics. Thus, between the late 1980s and early 1990s,
a prohibitionist-abstention matrix was defined (Corda et al. 2014). The applica-
tion of this strategywith the preponderance of the penal lawhas been ineffec-
tive and generated more problems than those it intended to solve. The criminal
response has affected mainly low-level traffickers and drug users. At the same time,
it has complicatedand sometimes stoppedthe development of other, more
effective and less harmful, non-criminal responses. In the last 5 years, particularly
after a ruling of the Supreme Court of Justice in 2009 named Arriola, there have
been a series of changes or promises to change that have put the postulates of the
matrix in crisis. Some of these promises have not been fulfilled, and even those that
1
Narcotic is the term used by Argentine law to define the substances whose related behaviors are
reached by the criminal law. That is the reason why it will also be used as synonym for drugs
whose linked behaviors are covered by criminal law. Similar to other instruments of the
international law, the law refers to a list. Briefly, it includes all of the Single Convention on
Narcotic Drugs of 1961 and Psychotropic of lists I and II of the 1971 Convention. This work also
uses the terms drugs or psychoactive substances to refer to narcotics and/or other substances
whose related behaviors are less or not reached by the criminal law (i.e., tobacco, alcohol, certain
medications, inhalants, etc.).
R.A. Corda (*) D. Rossi
Intercambios Asociacion Civil, Av. Corrientes 2548, piso 2 Of. D, Buenos Aires, Argentina
e-mail: alejandrocorda@hotmail.com; drossi@intercambios.org.ar

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_10
168 R.A. Corda and D. Rossi
have are resisted, impeding their implementation. This chapter will evaluate these
reform initiatives and their different levels of success. It will be argued that
resistance to change is based on a prohibitionist-abstention matrix which pervades
Argentinean narcotics policy and that continues to influence it to advance in
contradictory ways.
The Construction of the Prohibitionist-Abstention Matrix
The first public policies on drugs in Argentina date back to the first decades of the
twentieth century. Initially, administrative legislation that regulated the sale and
import of these substances was developed, sanctioning with fines to pharmacies and
drugstores, mainly, who operated outside the legal channels. The sale of these
substances was not only made by pharmacies and drugstores, but also sold in
parallel within other legal activities such as hairdressers, coffee shops, lottery
agencies, cinemas, or even by some people whose sole business was to sell them
(Bard 1923). Consumption was restricted to certain wealthy social classes and
certain characters of the night; and although there was some problematic consump-
tion, it did not constitute a major problem. Despite this, under the rhetoric of social
defense, both vicious-contagious users and those who provided them were seen
as threats to society and its survival.
In the early 1920s, an important movement that included the police, a certain
sector of medicine, and the press who jostled for a worsening of the sanctions,
emerged. All of them were influenced by different expressions of the positivist
discourse that prevailed in those times, such as Hygienism, Legal Medicine, and
Social Defense. Although by this time, some influence of legislation and of
international players could be found, it did not appear with as much intensity as it
did in the second half of the century.
In 1924, this movement achieved the sanction of the first criminal law regarding
behaviors linked to these substances, brought by the Congressman and medical
hygienist Leopoldo Bard. The 11,309 law incorporated the terms narcotics and
alkaloids into the criminal code, and established the smuggling of such sub-
stances into the country as a criminal offense, along with the sale of substances
without prescription by the pharmacies and the prescription or dispensing of greater
doses than those indicated. Sentences ranged from 6 months to 2 years in prison.
Lesser penalties, e.g., 3 months to 1 year in prison, were defined for the sale,
delivery or supply by a person unauthorized for the sale of medicinal substances.
The Chief of Police at that time argued that this wording prevented them from
acting upon those who without legally engaging in commercial activities, have in
their possession quantities of drugs included in the legal regulation (Diario de
Sesiones de la Camara de Diputados de la Nacion 1925, p. 471). For this reason, a
new project of Bard modified the criminal code again, through the 11,331 law of
1926. This reform established the possibility of sanctioning the possession or
10 History and Changes of the Drug Policy in Argentina 169
illegitimate holding of those substances with a penalty of 6 months to 2 years in

prison, without discriminating between dealers and users.
The main objective of the legislative debates was the vendors, but it was not
clear if the criminal law was also intended to reach drug users. The interpretation
made by the judges confirmed that hypothesis. As an example, in two plenary
rulings of the Chamber of Crime of the City of Buenos Aires, despite the diversity
of views, the interpretation that sanctioned the possession of drugs prevailed.
In 1930, the Gonzalez ruling quoted the following statement by Bard, who
seemed to want to extend the last reform to drug addicts: It is to avoid the
possibility that, in many cases, addicts and, above all, the vendors of alkaloids
may evade the action of the police and justice, that I present. . . this simple addition
to the law 11,309 (Diario de Sesiones de la Camara de Diputados de la Nacion
1925, p. 21). Decades later, in 1966, the ruling, named Teheran de Ibarra, confirmed
this interpretation.
Despite this stipulation, the same ruling shows the low amplitude that the
phenomenon of law enforcement had by pointing out that in 1965, 65 persons
were in some legal process in relation to drugs, and most were qualified as adepts
and intermediaries. However, some authors point out that the drug problem was
constructed in the second half of this decade (Touze 2006), gaining from then on a
greater influence on the international legislation impacting national legislation and
new modalities of care for users.
In 1962, a new customs law established the smuggling of these substances, still
defined as alkaloids and narcotics, as a criminal offense, with a penalty of from 1 to
8 years in prison. In 1963, the United Nations (UN) single Convention on Narcotic
Drugs of 1961 was approved by Argentina, and, following this convention, law
17,818 was enacted, regulating the administrative matters related to these sub-
stances. The same year, the Civil Code (law 17,711) was also amended, incorpo-
rating the possibility of compulsive internment of addicts and limiting their legal
capacity. Also, law 17,567 of 1968 made a new amendment to the Criminal Code
that not only increased the penalties for the offenses linked to these substances, now
with imprisonment of from 1 to 6 years, but multiplying the number of offending
behaviors, modeled on international law. Although unlawful possession continued
to be punished in the criminal legislation, it was always exacted upon those who had
exceeded the amount allowed for personal use, and the punishment for possession
for personal use was not pursued in other cases. This rule only lasted until 1973,
when it was revoked because of having been dictated by a de facto government, and
it returned to the wording of 1926.
In 1966, the Fund for Toxicological Support was created by the Chair of
Toxicology of the Faculty of Medicine of the University of Buenos Aires (UBA),
the first institution in that country specializing in the treatment and rehabilitation of
people with problematic drug use. In 1971, other institutions were created, includ-
ing the addiction treatment service at the Borda mental asylum and at the Center for
Prevention of Drug Addiction (CEPRETOXI); 2 years later, the first specialized,
residential center to treat substance use, the National Center for Social
Re-education (CENARESO), was founded. Also, the first so-called communities
of life arose: communities formed by drug users, often linked to Evangelical

churches, offering an alternative residential treatment.
Also in the 1970s, the first state body responsible for designing policies in this
matter was created: the National Committee on Drug Addiction and Narcotics
(CONATON). The United Nations Convention on Psychotropic Substances of
1971 was approved in 1977. In 1973, law 19,303 was enacted, regulating the
administrative issues related to psychotropic substances. A new discourse emerged
in the 1970s: national security, using arguments similar to those of the Social
Defense in considering the drug user as harmful to himself and others and equating
consumption to trafficking. But now, those arguments were justified as attacks on
the nation (for an analytical framework about Prohibitionism, including its effect on
national security, see Rodrigues and Labate, in this volume).
The message accompanying the first Special Bill of Narcotics, promoted by Jose
Lopez Rega, the Minister of Social Welfare in charge, and founder of the Argen-
tinean Anticommunist Alliance, show the views shared with Richard Nixon about
the War on Drugs, considering it a way to combat local guerrilla organizations.
With a noticeably belligerent tone, those arguments put trafficking and the con-
sumption of drugs on the same level as the as roots of the evil to be attacked. The
drug users (addicts) were identified as persons who, by surrendering to their vice,
destroy not only themselves but. . . cause harm to those who surround them. It
was also stated that, every drug addict is potentially a drug dealer; therefore it is
necessary not only to identify them but to force their internment to achieve their
cure. It was also argued that the illegal trafficking of narcotic drugs must be
persecuted and repressed up to its destruction and, in its final paragraphs, it
indicated that these crimes were offenses to national security justifying the need
for the crackdown as an imperative of national defense (Diario de Sesiones de la
Camara de Diputados de la Nacion 1974, p. 1965).
In 1974, this project became law 20,771, extending both penalties and offending
behaviors. Trafficking offenses, whose definitions and parameters were expanded,
would now be punished with imprisonment from 3 to 12 years, and possession of
prohibited substancesincluding those intended for personal usewould be
enforced with sentences of from 1 to 6 years in prison. The law also included the
possibility of imposing a curative security measure (compulsive treatment) on
dependent persons along with the penalty.
That same discourse is also apparent in the first decision of the Supreme Court of
Justice of the Nation, in the ruling named Colavini of 1978, regarding illegitimate
possession for personal consumption. From the possession of two Cannabis ciga-
rettes, the constitutionality of the punishment for possession of narcotics for
personal consumption was confirmed, associating addiction with common and
subversive delinquency, among other evils, and promoting crime as a cause of the
destruction of the family, considered a foundation of our civilization.
During the 1980s, after the end of the 19761983 military dictatorship, Argen-
tina returned to democracy. A tension was apparent between recovering guarantees
lost during the previous military dictatorship and the emergence of a new discourse:
urban citizen security. Zaffaroni wrote: since 1985, under the sign of the ideology
of citizen security, a new attack is being delineated, supported by advertising

campaigns undertaken by mercenary communicators and certain political
operators. . . In the legislative arena the ideology of urban or citizen security
resulted in the 23,737 law on Narcotic Drugs of 1989 (Zaffaroni et al. 2011,
p. 186).
In 1984, a reform of the penal code, law 23,057, allowed those persons accused
of crimes of trafficking to remain free during the process and be sentenced condi-
tionally in abeyance, not effectively. The Customs Code was amended in 1986, and
the criminal law penalty for drug smuggling linked to marketing was increased to
from 4 years and 6 months to 16 years in prison; penalties that are still in force
today.
Despite the Colavini ruling, several lower courts developed different interpre-
tations, limiting the application of the criminal law on drug users (Ni~no 2001). With
the return of democracy, this orientation was emphasized, and, in 1986, a new
composition of the Supreme Court of Justice passed the Bazterrica ruling, in
which the punishment for possession for personal consumption was declared
unconstitutional, in consideration of the fact that there had been a move towards
shielding private behaviors covered by the National Constitution. The same year, a
draft law was introduced that had such progressive aspects as the non-punishment
of possession for personal consumption or lesser sentences for those who commit
trafficking offenses. The important switch introduced by the Bazterrica ruling
lasted few years, only up to 1990, when the Montalvo ruling was passed. The
current law, along with other milestones, completed the matrix that would shape
narcotics policy in the following 2 decades, and that still prevails.
After signing the UN Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances in mid-1989, the Secretary of Programming for the Pre-
vention of Drug Addiction and Fight against Drug Trafficking (SEDRONAR) was
created. The Secretary was under the Presidency of the Nation and was meant to
address both the phenomena of supply and demand, becoming the main defender of
the prohibitionist-abstention matrix. That same year, a special new law on Narcotic
Drugs, 23,737, was sanctioned and still remains valid. The behaviors and penalties
for trafficking offenses were expanded; now, with imprisonment from 4 to 15 years.
A single holding offense was punished with a prison sentence of from 1 to 6 years,
and possession for personal consumption was with to be punished by imprisonment
of from 1 month to 2 years, with the possibility of diverting the process towards a
safety curative measure (treatment), in case the accused is a dependent, or an
educational measure, if they were deemed to be a beginner or experimenting.
Finally, in 1990, Montalvo, a new ruling of the Supreme Court of Justice,
confirmed the constitutionality of the punishment of possession for personal con-
sumption. In its text, elements of the discourse of Social Defense can be recognized:
users are vicious and contagious and we must protect the community; they are at the
same level with the traffickers, affecting the national security paradigm; drug use
imperils the survival of the nation; together with the invocation of assumed
international commitments.
In summary, during the twentieth century, various discourses on the drug issue
were added, overlapped, and reinforced, thus consolidating a prohibitionist-
abstention matrix towards the late 1980s and early 1990s. This matrix, based on
the idea that all behaviors linked to these substances that did not have medical or
scientific purposes should be considered illicit, promoted the prohibition of their
related behaviors and the prevention of their use. Criminal law ended up being the
maximum expression of this matrix, operating on the lower manifestations of the
phenomenon, small traffickers and users. But, in addition, criminal law condi-
tionedand sometimes impededthe development of other types of
non-repressive state policy.
The Consequences of the Prohibitionist-Abstention Matrix
There are some constant characteristics of the matrix, such as lack of information to
support policy design, as seen in the following example: Although a specific body
responsible for coordinating drug policy was created, and the 23,737 law was
enacted in 1989, citizens had to wait 10 more years before the first governmental
information about consumption in the general population was made available. From
the results of that 1999 study, it was apparent that social drugs, such as tobacco and
alcohol, and even certain prescription drugs, were consumed more than most illegal
drugs. One in ten peopleabout 60,000had consumed illegal drugs in their
lifetime (SEDRONAR 1999). Although other investigations were developed at
that time, surveys about drug use were not always equivalent, and it was only in
2005 that the Argentinean Observatory of Drugs (OAD) was created within the
SEDRONAR, and began to develop surveys that could be compared with earlier
research. Despite this scenario, what happened with the application of the criminal
law and other state policies could be reconstructed from different sources of
information.
The Criminal Response The main state response developed as a result of the
prohibitionist-abstention matrix was the criminal one. The 23,737 law was sanc-
tioned and the activities of the criminal agencies increased in the 1990s. Minor
trafficking links were affectedsometimes in multiple situations of social vulner-
abilityas were those drug users whose related behaviors were covered by the
criminal law. Beginning of the 1990s, following the revelations of the activity of
criminal agencies, prosecution of drug-related crimes grew. Historically, this activ-
ity appears to have been concentrated in large urban centers, especially in the city of
Buenos Aires and in the part of the province of Buenos Aires which surrounds it:
Greater Buenos Aires (Corda 2012a).
According to data from the Public Attorney Ministry, between the years
20002009, infringement of the 23,737 law, the offense of simple possession of
narcotics for personal consumption, resulted overall in between 2/3 and 3/4 of all
the crimes charged in the country. Press information indicated that, in 2011, while
the charges for both offenses remained the majority, the arrests for trafficking
increased 61.19 % compared to previous years (Hay 41 causas por da contra
consumidores 2012).
Information from the City of Buenos Aires in the early 1990s shows that the
persecution of drug users who were in public spaces in a non-disruptive manner
seems to have been a common occurrence An analysis carried out by the Director-
ate for Criminal Policy (DNPC) of the Ministry of Justice on 292 criminal allega-
tions during 1996 concluded that 70.1 % of the accusations were for narcotic
possession for personal consumption, 23.9 % for simple possession, and only
4.7 % were for crimes of trafficking of those substances. Out of this research the
following profile of the accused could be constructed: young, male, Argentinean,
single, without a criminal record or imprisonment, detained in a public space, with
less than 5 g of cocaine or Cannabis, who was not committing another crime, and
was without a weapon (DNPC, n.d.).
Despite the data mentioned, except in some specific cases, these drug users have
not ended in up prison; although the contact with the agencies of the criminal justice
system has impacted them in different ways. Since the 1990s, following the
Montalvo ruling of the Supreme Court, certain judges in some districts, Buenos
Aires City mainly, considered possession of narcotics for personal consumption to
be a crime; the ensuing charges were finally dismissed because of the different
existing interpretations.
Regardless of the outcome of the charges initiated against drug users, they are
harmed in multiple ways by their contact with the agencies of the criminal justice
system, either during the brief detention at police headquarters or by having an open
criminal trial. Another study has reflected on how drug users tend to be abused by
security forces or suffer worse consequences for the more or less short time of their
arrest. On the other hand, having an open criminal trial, beyond how it is decided,
incurs a stigma that tends to hinder or prevent the exercise of other rights, such as
obtaining a job or personal documentation (Corda 2012a).
Beyond its impact on drug users, drug policy has facilitated the imprisonment of
minor actors of trafficking; many of them women and foreigners, many in vulner-
able situations (Corda 2011, 2012a, b). Since the 1990s, there has been an increase
of detainees in federal prisons for crimes related to narcotics. By the middle of that
decade, they began to account for around one third of that universe; compared to
other crimes, this group had the highest representation of women and foreigners. It
has been confirmed from various sources that most of women in federal prisons
were arrested for such offenses. Although the percentages vary, depending on the
year, they represent about two-thirds of the total number of women in federal
prisons. The enforcement of law 23,737 also explains the greater increase in the
female population in federal prisons since its passage. Between 1989 and 2008, the
population of men increased 112 % and that of women increased 271 %. Despite
this, women still do not exceed 10 % of the imprisoned population (Corda 2011).
While the majority of these people participated in behaviors related to the traffic
of narcotics, they did so as minor links, led to that offense by their vulnerable
situations. Women tend to be caught up by having sold such substances in their
homes or by engaging in international smuggling in borders or airports. Different

factors of vulnerability, sometimes overlapping, have been verified, such as incom-
plete education, precarious employment situations, being alone in charge of the
home, and having several children or other dependants. In those contexts, these
women find in the illegal activities a way to solve both the economic and domestic
needs of their homes, according to the assigned social role (Centro de Estudios
Legales y Sociales 2011).
The special situation of vulnerability that these groups have exists before they
link with the criminal activity; it is mixed with the motives that push the choice of
the drug trafficking activities, and becomes functional, both attracting and securing
these people through organizations dedicated to trafficking, as well as to forbidden
activities because of their ease of access. The conditions of the prison systems in
Latin Americaincarceration without conviction, lack of infrastructure and ser-
vices, abuse by prison staffadd to their situation of vulnerability, resulting in their
worsening; for example, in damaging the bond of mothers with their children who
are separated from them or the lack of foreigners social networks. The conse-
quences seem to continue even after imprisonment because of the difficulties of
getting work, which leaves them susceptible to recidivism, and the stigma of having
been in jail that can affect the family unit.
Prevention and Assistance Beyond the consequences of the criminal response,
policy built around it as its main tool influenced other types of state responses and
impacted people who use drugs in different ways. Messages designed according to
the abstention paradigm of the matrix marked prevention campaigns. Campaigns
such as Sun without Drugs or Drugs for What? addressed the issue with advice
to not start or to stop using drugs. These campaigns did not address the situation of
those who did not want to or could not stop using drugs. Among the latter were the
injecting drug users that proliferated during the 1990s, after the decline in the price
of cocaine, especially in poor areas of the city of Buenos Aires and its surroundings
(Touze et al. 1999). This group, in turn, was not only affected by the definition of
drug users as criminals, but also by the prejudicial association with death that
spread with the expansion of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) and the
acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS).
Despite this situation, the SEDRONAR did not generate specific studies on the
ways of consumption that could inform public policies oriented to the substances
and assist in the prevention of sexually and blood transmitted infections. It was only
at the end of the 1990s that the Ministry of Health estimated the number of people
who injected drugs49,993 men and 14,565 women who mainly used injected
cocaine across the countryand also the number of them living with HIV and
AIDS (Procupet 2001). The comparative analysis of 22 seroprevalence studies of
HIV in injecting drug users (IDUs), conducted in Argentina between 1987 and 1999
in multiple populations and with multiple methodologies, showed that more than
95 % of IDUs who participated in these studies injected cocaine and that the rate of
HIV infection in this population ranged from 27 to 80 % (Sosa Estani et al. 2003).
Despite this reality, the possibility of developing different interventions, such as

those based on the harm reduction approach, was denied. The acting head of the
SEDRONAR argued in this respect:
There are countries where syringes are delivered to addicts to prevent contagion. Voices
have risen in Argentina claiming to the authorities an identical attitude. And those same
voices have protested against our refusal. We oppose because we are convinced that
delivering syringes to sick youngsters is equivalent simply to say: kill yourselves if you
want to. We dont care, while you do not kill others. (Touze 2006, p. 72).
That lack of response had fatal consequences for many IDUs and their friends
and families in Argentina in the 1990s. In this way, drug policy was caught by one
of its own postulates, and contradicted the declared aim of protecting human health.
On the other hand, the matrix produced responses in terms of assistance to drug
users that included the application of criminal law security measures, something
that impacted the relationship with health care teams.
Although law 23,737 was passed in 1989, it was only in the years 1995 and 1996
that the laws 24,455 and 24,754 were sanctioned, forcing both social securitythe
health care of workers unionsand the prepaid medical companies that
complemented state health care services, to cover the prevention and treatments
for HIV and AIDS and the medical, psychological, and pharmacological treatment
of problematic drug users and persons who were physically or psychologically
dependant on narcotic drugs.
In the second article of law 24,455, a special reference was made regarding the
security measure in the following terms: Rehabilitation and detoxification treat-
ments mentioned in the law 23,737 shall be covered by the social security of the
beneficiary receiving the security curative measure. In these cases, the law states
that the judge should relay to social security the need for and conditions of
treatment. Thus, the competence of an outsider to the health care systemthe
criminal justice systemwas legitimized on the admission, treatment, and dis-
charge of drug users, even in the private and social security sub-sectors.
Moreover, the SEDRONAR regulated different norms, whether in creating pro-
grams or establishing minimum conditions of health care services, which were
aligned with the need to comply with such security measures. Some of those norms
were based on the anti-drug strategy for the hemisphere of the Inter-American
Commission for the Control of the Drug Abuse of the Organization of American
States (CICAD-OAS) (Comision Interamericana para el Control del Abuso de
Drogas 1996).
Thus, the association between drug use and crime appears to have been a part of
the construction of social representations of drug use and users of the specialists
working in care treatments. In a study carried out by Intercambios Civil Associa-
tion, many professionals explained that addiction led users to obtain the substances
any way they could, making reference to an addictive career as an advancing
condition that could culminate with death. These social representations about
drug use and users contributed to legitimizing a care system focused on the
internment of compulsive users. In addition, the social representation of users as
disabled people limited the possibilities for the development of healthcare and
preventive programs that included the rights of drug users (Galante et al. 2006;
Pawlowicz et al. 2006).
Proposals, Changes, and Resistances
In the last 5 years, there have been a series of changes or attempts to change that
have put the postulates of the described matrix into crisis; some of them have not
been fulfilled, and those that have gone forward have encountered resistance that
impedes their consolidation. However, it seems that, beyond these comings and
goings, a change in the way of looking at drug-related problems is materializing.
The tendency of some judges to end certain prosecutions of drug users grew and
was consolidated in 2009, after a new ruling by the Supreme Court of Justice called
Arriola that, once again, considered legal charges for drug possession contrary to
the National Constitution whenever it is performed in such circumstances that do
not bring about a concrete danger or damage to the rights or property of third
parties (Corte Suprema de Justicia de la Nacion Argentina 2009). Reiterating the
position of the Bazterrica ruling from 1986, it was understood that possession of
drugs for personal consumption is a private action that lies within the sphere of
personal freedom recognized by the National Constitution, and excluded from the
authority of state agencies.
In addition, the ruling indicates that the United Nations Conventions on Narcotic
Drugs and Psychotropic Substances does not mandate criminalization of the pos-
session of those substances for consumption, recalling the reserve of the constitu-
tional principles and the basic concepts of the legal system that those instruments
contain. The ruling also calls all public authorities to adopt preventive health
measures, including providing information and consumption-deterring education
focused especially on the most vulnerable groups in order to comply with the
international human rights treaties signed by the state. One of the votes defined
addiction as a health problem and underlines that those affected should not be
incarcerated.
This ruling produced changes in the courts decisions, however some judicial
officers gave it limited significance or resisted its use. The first ones considered that
some possession for personal consumption affects other people (such as drug
possession during performances and in public spaces, or in prison), following the
clarification made by the Court in the ruling. The second ones, though they are few,
did not agree with the ruling proposal, so they did not use it, maintaining the logic
of the prohibitionist-abstention matrix. However, the validity of the laws text
sustaining legal charges for drug possession underlies the practices of the law
enforcement agencies who initiate the majority of prosecutions for these offenses,
which continue almost in the same way as before, generating more charges for
possession for personal consumption (Corda 2010).
Thus, even though the Courts ruling had a strong impact, especially in the
performance of the judicial officers, the criminal justice system is still chasing drug
users. In 2014, the Attorney on Drug Traffic Criminality, under the Attorney
General of the Nation, submitted a report that stated that 9414 arrests for the
crime of possession of narcotics for personal use were registered by the federal
justice agencies in the year 2012. The report also indicates that, at a national level,
the charges for possession for personal consumption represent almost 40 % of all
the arrests for violation of law 23,737, and that, in major provinces such as
Mendoza and C ordoba, they exceeded 50 % (Procuradura de Narcocriminalidad
2014). Even a series of reports prepared by a federal attorney of the City of Buenos
Aires shows that, in the years 2011 and 2014, around 70 % of the prosecutions that
were initiated corresponded to possession of narcotic drugs for personal consump-
tion, all of which were afterwards dismissed by the judiciary (Selectividad policial
2014).
At this point, the situation of users who cultivate Cannabis for their own
consumption also deserves attention. Although the original wording of law
23,737 understood cultivation as a trafficking offense, the reform of 1995 put it
on the same level as possession for personal consumption, both for its penalty and
for the possibility of the criminal process to require diversion, the compulsive
treatment security measures established by law. Also in this case, the opinion of
the judges is divided; while some treat it in the same way as possession for personal
consumption, extending the interpretation of the Arriola ruling, and dismiss the
charges (La justicia legaliza poco a poco 2013; Cultivo de marihuana 2013),
in other cases the process moves ahead, and occasionally the behavior is interpreted
as a crime of trafficking. Thus, in addition to the consequences already described
regarding contact with the criminal justice system agencies, the risk of spending
some period of time in prison, whether a few days or 4 years, is often added to that
situation (Corda 2012a).
In recent years, groups of users and Cannabis growers have experienced great
development in many parts of the country and have become important actors in the
debate. Every year the Marijuana March is organized, mobilizing a large number
of people calling for the decriminalization of the possession and cultivation of
Cannabis for personal use. In the march of 2014, organizers estimated an atten-
dance of 150,000 people in Buenos Aires, and more than 200,000 in all of Argentina
(Marcha mundial de la marihuana en Argentina 2015). They have also developed
several publications and organizations that promote Cannabis culture. Some of
them even have helped draft reform projects of law 23,737, seeking to establish that
their activities are not covered by criminal law.
The Arriola ruling was also responsible for the initiation of several projects to
modify law 23,737 that were presented trying to adjust the text of that ruling in the
years following its divulgation. In the middle of 2012, eight projects from different
political forces proposed changes to law 23,737, reflecting the impact of different
non-governmental initiatives to change drug law. Among these was a campaign
called 15 Ideas for a New Drug Policy, launched in May 2012, and coordinated by
Intercambios Civil Association, which involved other influential organizations in
that debate. Most of the projects intended to stop prosecution of the possession and
cultivation of narcotics for personal use; but with different wording and depth. The
most ambitious not only eliminated the penalties for possession for personal
consumption but even for simple possession, with the understanding that the latter
would continue to be a reason for pursuing users. Everyone agreed to delete the
security, curative, and educational measures; and some even moderated that pro-
posal to remove penalties for the minor trafficking links when a subordinate
committed the crime or when the socio-economic vulnerability of the accused in
the situation was verified. One of them even proposed to exempt from punishment
mothers of underage children and pregnant women (Corda 2012b).
The diversity of political forces pushing this initiative, including the ruling
party, which had enough votes to approve it, helped to create the idea that reform
would happen quickly (Despenalizar las drogas 2012). The projects began to be
discussed in the Chamber of Deputies in a series of meetings organized in June
2012, where several voices in support and some against were heard. An agreement
was reached to develop a unique project (Coincidencias sobre el proyecto 2012;
Aparecieron las primeras crticas 2012; Un debate rumbo 2012).
Among the opposition voices, a former Secretary of the SEDRONAR argued
that the law as it stood allowed the addict to receive health care. But perhaps the
voice that has most strongly impacted against these projects has been that of the
Catholic Church, expressing its opposition in a number of ways. Initially, the
opinion of one of the priests who works in the slums of the City of Buenos Aires
and the Greater Buenos Airesa so-called slum priestwas heard (A proposito
de la despenalizacion 2012); a few days later, the Pastoral of Drug Addiction of the
Episcopal Conference of Argentina issued a document entitled Decriminalization,
Yes or No? (Conferencia Episcopal Argentina, 2012); days later, the Archbishop of
Buenos Airesand current Catholic Popeopposed the ruling during a religious
celebration (Dura crtica de la Iglesia 2012). Pope Francis had previously been
very much involved as an Argentine bishop in drug debates, supporting the group of
priests working in slums in Buenos Aires who had asked for expansion of treatment
opportunities and who opposed decriminalization of illicit drugs. His new powerful
position and global image influenced the national and regional debates on drug
policy when, for example, he dedicated part of his speech during the Global Young
Catholics Meeting in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in July 2013, to discuss that it is not
the liberalization of drug consumption, as it is discussed in several parts of Latin
America, that will reduce the propagation and the influence of chemical depen-
dence (Francisco, firme contra la despenalizacion de drogas 2013).
The main argument of the Catholic opposition is that the conditions to reform the
criminal law are not right, since non-criminal responses (for prevention and care),
previously required, were not yet properly implemented, particularly in regard to
young people of the slums with problematic drug use. In this sense, the opponents
argued that the discussion on decriminalization corresponded to the last chapters of
the book and not to the first ones. In the second half of 2014, after a new initiative
by the ruling party to reform law 23,737, different voices showing their disagree-
ment were heard, but the ones with the greatest impact were those of the slum
priests (El jefe de la SEDRONAR 2014; La carta de los curas villeros a la
Presidente 2014).
What is striking in these speeches is that they argue that people with addictive
problems should not be criminalized. However, either as a way to send drug users to
treatment or as a way to deter consumption, the criminal response is thought to be
necessary for those purposes. In this sense, it is true that decriminalizing the
possession of narcotics for personal use alone will not solve the lack of compas-
sionate responses that the country still owes to users of psychoactive substances,
and especially those with more problematic use. Active policies that develop
specific interventions in the field are necessary for this purpose. But the persistence
of the criminal response does not fulfill the required need of interventions, since it
contaminates the existing responses with the threat of penalty or stigma. They even
prevent the development of those responses, since they feed on the conviction that
the existence of the criminal law is already an answer to the problematic use of
drugs.
On the other hand, while the reform of the law is delayed, models known as drug
courts or drug treatment courts begin to be rehearsed, supported by the CICAD-
OAS. In spite of the different models of drug courts, they have in common the idea
of sending people with problematic drug use who have a criminal case to undergo a
course of drug treatment. In 2013, the Northern Salta province, on the border with
Bolivia, initiated a pilot plan of drug courts for cases that may now be diverted to
probation and for individuals who were considered to be suffering from an addic-
tion to drugs; but it excludes those charged for crimes related to law 23,737. The
treatment is under supervision of the Courts of Drugs, integrated by an interdisci-
plinary team; if the result of the treatment is evaluated as satisfactory, the process is
closed; if notalthough it is not mentionedthe regular penalty should continue
(Expertos de la OEA se interesan 2014; Corte de Justicia de Salta 2013).
These initiatives, marketed as novel, reproduce the same logic that sends drug
users to treatment by means of a criminal process. Thus, with this model, impris-
onment doesnt seem to be reduced and the idea of access to treatment as a right is
distorted by tying the assistance to the criminal response. In spite of these setbacks,
there have been other recent developments. For example, the decriminalization of
personal consumption and the consideration of the vulnerability of poor drug
transporters that the Commission, headed by the, at that time, Supreme Court
Judge Eugenio Zaffaroni, proposed as part of the Project to Reform the Argentinean
Penal Code, which is still to be discussed.
Another change is the sanction, in 2010, of the National Mental Health law
26,657, enacted in 2013. The implementation of the law requires systems of
community care and crisis care at general public hospitals, which would help
meet the target of closing the existing psychiatric hospitals in 2020 as proposed
by the law in Art. 27 of the Decree of Regulation 603/2013. Achieving this and
other objectives requires a significant level of consensus about the transformation
of the system, since it is a political and ideological process in which different actors
confront one another to consolidate their positions; meanwhile, dispute and con-
frontation between disciplines, based on professional and corporate interests
occurs (Rosendo 2013, p. 41).
An example of the current modifications can be observed in the Network

Hospital Specialized in Mental Health and Addiction; formerly, CENARESO.
Created in 1973 under the Ministry of Health, it is the only national public
institution dedicated to drug treatment in Argentina. In 2013, this institution
began to modify its orientation and practices according to Mental Health law
26,657. This change has included risk and harm reduction orientations in programs
developed both at the institution and while performing outreach work with poor
communities of the Buenos Aires City. Moreover, the Comprehensive Plan for
Approaching Problematic Consumption was initially approved by the Chamber of
Deputies and later sanctioned by the Senate in April 2014. This last law explicitly
mentions the need to include the harm reduction model in the transversal, integral,
and public prevention and assistance programs.
In recent years, three decision makers in charge of the Secretary for Prevention
of Drug Addiction and Fight against Drug Trafficking have proposed changes to
drug policy. Rafael Bielsa, who had opposed the prohibitionist-abstention matrix of
his predecessor, resigned in 2013 (Francisco, firme contra la despenalizacion de
drogas 2013). After several months, without a new officer designated to replace
Bielsa, the local Catholic Church severely criticized the political leaders for the
lack of action in SEDRONAR and for not taking urgent measures to control the
drug traffic mafias, warning about the time and blood that this inaction in eradicat-
ing them will cost to Argentina. Twenty days after the diffusion of the Catholic
Church document, in November 2013, a Catholic priest was confirmed as Secretary
of Drugs, now oriented to prevention and care, while the Ministry of Security was
placed in charge of drug traffic issues. For the first time since the creation of the
SEDRONAR in 1989, the government divided competencies in the control of drug
demand and traffic, a change very much claimed by different non-governmental
organizations as Intercambios Civil Association. The government also created the
position of Sub-Secretary for the Fight Against Drug Trafficking in the Ministry of
Security as a part of this new division of competencies (Lucha contra el
narcotrafico, a cargo de la Secretara de Seguridad 2014).
In April 2014, the new Drugs Secretary, the Catholic priest Molina, presented his
new Addiction Plan and stated that his administration is proposing a paradigm shift
in addiction prevention by understanding addiction as a social health problem that
destroys families and neighborhoods and that, therefore, requires a holistic
approach. He also stated that the paradigm shift conceives the drug user as a subject
of rights (La gente no esta preparada para que haya reinsercion en serio 2014).
The contradictions in the definition of drug policy have characterized the
tensions between governmental stakeholders in the governing political party,
Front for Victory, since the beginning of Nestor Kirchner presidency in 2003, and
continued during the two governments led by Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner.
These contradictory positions imply new difficulties in consolidating the process
to get the drug use problem out of the penal system and creating diverse public
assistance programs based on human rights principles. There is currently a clear
tension between the Ministry of Health and the Ministry of Social Development,
which is the leading professional group in SEDRONAR, towards the appropriate

model to deal with prevention and assistance in the country.
There is also a tension between the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights and
the Attorney Generals Office regarding the Defederalization law 26,052 that was
passed in 2005, and allows provincial governments to put under the jurisdiction of
the provincial courts some less serious drug-related crimes that are included in the
narcotic law, such as possession for personal consumption, similar to the Mexican
reform in 2009 that passed the law known as Narcomenudeo. Since its approval, the
application of the Defederalization Law had been limited to the Buenos Aires
province, where the consequence was clearly related to increasing the prosecution
of drug users or small dealers. It has been expanding its application to other
provinces of the country since 2012.
The public agenda recently became much more dedicated to confronting drug
trafficking, associating it with citizens insecurity and acts of violence linked to
groups involved in those activities, particularly in the Santa Fe province, where the
link between organized crime and provincial police was made evident when the
Governors home was shot and many young people and their family members died
because of drug-related violence. After changes in the competencies of the
SEDRONAR at the end of 2013, and the Ministry of Securitys involvement in
organized crime and drug traffic control, the Secretary of Security intervened,
together with the government of Santa Fe (opponent to the governing political
party, Front for Victory), in a wide offensive against drug dealing sites indentified
in the city of Rosario with help from the federal security forces, and with no
participation from the local police, who were accused of being involved with
organized crime. Also, this Drug Secretary supports disengagement from agree-
ments with the Drug Enforcement Administration of the United States of America,
which has been a recent matter of discussion locally because of the magnitude of
impact attributed to organized crime related to drug traffic in the increasing
violence rates in the main cities of the country.
Regarding the Argentinean position in the international forums, the National
Government has not led, but has accompanied, the various resolutions on drug
policy and human rights discussed in various regional and international forums.
Human rights policy is central to the current government; examples of this are the
legislation for Equalitarian Marriage, passed in 2010, that allowed gays and les-
bians to have the same rights as heterosexuals, and the Gender Identity Act in 2012,
for transgender persons.
Conclusion
In Argentina, there is a contradictory process to abandon the tutelary approach on

drug policy, or what we call the prohibitionist-abstention matrix (which translates
to compulsory treatments and conditions of internment), to replace it with a rights-
based approach in line with the principles laid down in the National Mental Health
law, and in the Comprehensive Plan for Approaching Problematic Consumption

sanctioned by the Senate in April 2014.
In recent years, some changes in the design and in the way of thinking about
policy on psychoactive substances began to be noticeable. On the one hand, the last
two officers designated in the SEDRONAR showed a clear change in the orienta-
tion of drug policy definitions. Both Rafael Bielsa, in late 2011, and Juan Carlos
Molina, in 2013, represent a change in the position of the agency with respect to the
use of the criminal law on drug users. Both have expressed and participated in
initiatives to decriminalize the possession of narcotics for personal use. In addition,
the SEDRONAR, formerly concentrating on, among its functions, the coordination
of activities around the supply and demand of drugs, began to be mainly dedicated
to the activities of prevention and care, delivering the control of drug traffic to the
Ministry of Security of the Nation, changing an institutional design that had lasted
almost 25 years.
We believe that people who use drugs must be considered as subjects of rights
instead of as the stigmatized ill and delinquents, as derived from the prohibitionist-
abstention matrix. In the last decade, groups of drug users, political movements,
NGOs, and even some sectors that integrate the powers of the state related to the
fields of health, education, and justice, among many other relevant actors, have
managed to promote discussion on the consequences of the current drug policy.
Moreover, the future of drug policy reform debates needs much more recognition of
the leadership towards change coming from the experiences of governments and
civil society organizations in Latin America. Regional forums, such as the Common
Market of the South (MERCOSUR), the Union of South American Nations
(UNASUR), and the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States
(CELAC), are strategic partners in collaboration between governments in order to
strengthen and sustain their positions towards drug policy reform of the region.
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Chapter 11
Brazilian Drug Policy: Tension Between
Repression and Alternatives
Introduction: An Analytical Perspective
In August 2006, Law 11,343, the Brazilian law that established the National System
of Public Policies on Drugs (SISNAD), was approved. The text was celebrated for
apparently introducing important progressive policies, such as the alternative pro-
vision of warnings or fines for illegal drug users. However, criticism quickly
emerged of the effects of the excessive imprisonment mandated by a law that
increased penalties for traffickers while leaving space for ambiguity and discretion
of the police and judicial authorities in defining who fell within the categories of
dealer or user.
The Law on Drugs sought to remove Brazilian law from repressive state policies
aimed at illegal drugs, which were still regulated by the 1976 Law 6368, known as
the Toxics Law, passed during the civil-military dictatorship (19641985). Even
in the 1990s, during the government of Fernando Henrique Cardoso, mechanisms
such as the 1997 National Anti-Drug Secretariat (SENAD) were created that
continued the repressive tone both in name (anti-drugs) and purposes. SENAD
was considered a central coordinating body for drug policy in Brazil, but its power
eventually eroded because it contradicted the constitutional powers of combating
drug trafficking (Rodrigues 2012a, b). The absence of the negative prefix anti in
the new 2006 drug law, as promulgated by the Lula da Silva government, should
not, however, tempt us to make a simplistic assessment of its contents. It is a hybrid
T. Rodrigues (*)
Institute for Strategic Studies (INEST), Fluminense Federal University (UFF), Alameda Barros
Terra, s/n, Campus Valonguinho, 24210-141 Niter oi, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
B.C. Labate

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_11
law that contains both the repressive legacy and alternative proposals, a moralistic
tone and the influences of progressive social movements, the defense of punishment
and pressure for elements of decriminalization.
This chapter will thus examine the public debate on drugs in Brazil through a
discussion of the 2006 Law on Drugs and the current proposals for legal reform,
marked both by critics who demand more innovation and others who advocate a
return to prohibition. This analysis will not be exegetical or formalistic, but rather,
historical-political, in the sense proposed by Michel Foucault (2007), i.e., a close
study of the production of discourses by political and social forces that express
different positions at a given historical moment, advocating world views and
moving complex correlations of forces that eventually produce truthsalways
precarious and transitoryabout social, political, economic, and moral issues.
In this sense, it is understood here that policies on psychoactive drugs in the
world emerged in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century as elements of a
broader consolidation of the biopolitical tactics studied by Foucault, understood as
policies for the government of populations and, simultaneously, to discipline
individuals to the needs imposed by the general dynamic of all individuals, under-
stood as a living social body with specific features and requirements regarding
health, work, education, housing etc. The biopolitics of the population was not
merely a state policy in the sense of imposing decided forms of conduct
implemented from a political center, but, on the contrary, was a heterogeneous
set of tactics to govern both individual conduct and population dynamics, compris-
ing the articulation between state policies and widespread practices in society.
Local situations of the control of bodies were sometimes appropriated and gener-
alized by major state policies (Foucault 2008b).
The government tactics for populations and individual behavior began to affect,
in Foucaults analysis, the whole social fabric as an investment in peoples lives,
seeking to generate improvements in life with the aim of the availability of healthy
bodies for work and nullifying them as a disruptive force. According to Foucault,
the attention to the life and the health of populations led to the development, first in
Europe, and then around the globe, of different models of social medicine focused
on the management of healthy and docile bodies, and governed and governable
populations (Foucault 2008a). Psychoactive drugs were included in this overall
process of regulating the dynamics of individual and collective life, comple-
menting, on one hand, state control over medical practice, and including, on the
other hand, moralistic social practices that required broader and repressive mea-
sures when it came to certain psychoactive drugs.
Based on this perspective, we propose in this volume (Rodrigues & Labate) an
analytical framework to study the formation and changes of these prohibitionist
practices. This proposal links five dimensions: moral practice, public health, public
security, national security, and international security, that combine to foster an
understanding of how social practices on drugs and drug policies are found at the
intersection of government tactics to control behavior, international diplomatic and
military pressures, and different discourses on security.
11 Brazilian Drug Policy: Tension Between Repression and Alternatives 189
Within this perspective, we indicate certain aspects of the current situation of

public debate, legislative proposals, and drug policy in Brazil. Our intention is to
offer a broad picture of the struggle between the various forces and the different
confronting or assisting approaches, in order to provide something more than
merely an exhaustive description of what is happening today in Brazil in terms of
illegal drugs. We intend, in contrast, to offer analyses of this situation in order to
provide elements to reconsider the reshaping of contemporary Brazilian prohi-
bition. To do so, we shall initially make a panoramic study of the history of
prohibition in Brazil. We will then indicate the main features of drug policy in
Brazil from the 1990s and then present the current state of the debate that confronts
legislative proposals and progressive social practices with legal, social, and public
security movements still based on the repressive vision in tune with the inter-
national War on Drugs.
Drug Policy in Brazil: An Historical Note
Drug control policies in Brazil emerged together with the establishment of an

international system of drug control; at the same time, similar processes took
place in many countries in the Americas and Europe. The first norms aimed at
regulation, and the initial nascent crackdown on psychoactive drugs dates back to
the Portuguese colonial period, lasting until independence in 1822, and the begin-
nings of the imperial period from 1822: the first law providing for punishment for
marijuana use was passed in Rio de Janeiro in 1830, through the association that
was then made between the consumption of marijuana and groups of black slaves or
freed slaves that were seen as threats when moving through the streets forming
groups or gangs (Franca 2015; Rodrigues 2014).
A more systematic approach to the production and sale of psychoactive sub-
stances would only come, however, in the late nineteenth century, when criminal
and sanitary measures included the first rules on packaging and marketing, insti-
gated by a concern with the health of society and the regulation of the medical
practice of using so-called poisonous substances (Rodrigues 2015). In a period
heavily influenced by the hygienist discourse coming from Europe, such as the
criminal anthropology of Cesare Lombroso (18351909), medical and legal knowl-
edge in Brazil reconciled this discourse with the strongly-rooted scientific preten-
sion and racism that are found in social practices in Brazil (for a similar process in
Mexico, see Smith in this volume).
However, in Brazil, the early decades of the twentieth century saw a relative
social acceptance of the habits related to the consumption of psychoactives when
these were restricted to environments frequented by the elite. Luxury brothels and
cabarets represented Brazilian versions of European fumeries, places for opium
consumption, attracting the interest of oligarchs and intellectuals, without causing
great public dismay (Passetti 1991; Carneiro 1993). However, throughout the
1910s, the situation began to change with the increase in news of prostitutes,
pimps, and madams allegedly killed by the use of drugs such as morphine (Carneiro
1993; Rodrigues 2015). Conservative organizations associated with Masonic
groups or Catholic movements began to press, without much support, for more
stringent measures to be taken by the state.
In these years, Brazil had participated with a diplomatic delegation at the 1912
Hague Conference, considered the first major international meeting on drug control.
It defined the first international recommendations for the regulation of opium and its
derivatives markets (such as morphine and heroin), as well as establishing the
criterion of medical use as a central element to define whether a psychoactive
substance might have some legal authorization to be produced, sold, and used
(always under medical supervision and state regulation) (McAllister 2000; Rodri-
gues 2015). In The Hague, for example, the recommendation was made that
psychoactive substances with scientifically proven therapeutic use could be used
by issuing prescriptions controlled by the state. This pattern is still today the general
parameter for the discussion of drug policy throughout the world, since proposals
for the legalization or decriminalization of certain psychoactive use argues in favor
of therapeutic use. Such an approach is important, as we shall see, to understand the
current debate in Brazil.
Questions of health inspection were raised as part of the governments response
to the growth of urban centers, due to the arrival of thousands of immigrants from
Europe and Asia, and the rural exodus of Black and indigenous people, resulting in
the growth of the industrial centers of S~ao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro and the
multiplication of their populations. Control of the increasing influx of human beings
was a major concern of the emerging biopolitics of the populations in Brazil. This is
because the state and the Brazilian elites identified both health and political
dangers resulting from the challenges of governing numerous urban populations
who brought different social habits, spoke languages other than Portuguese, and
who began making labor demands in a Brazilian society accustomed to slavery.
These groups included anarchist militants and socialists with extensive political
organizational experience in Europe.
The combination of moralistic social pressures, increased bio-political chal-
lenges for the Brazilian state, and increasing pressures in the international field,
led to the first significant legal changes regarding drugs in Brazil, when the 1921
Federal Law 4294 was approved, which incorporated The Hague Convention
decisions of 1912, and first established the criminalization of the production,
import, and sale of certain psychoactive drugs, such as cocaine and its derivatives
and opium (Article 1 of the Federal Law/Decree 14,969). The law, however, did not
criminalize the user, who was considered a sick individual whose mandatory
treatment was the states responsibility (Rodrigues 2015). This law also mirrored
a widespread social belief, still present today, that users had fallen morally and were
in need of medical care and moral forgiveness, while the real violators were the
dealers who fed this moral decay.
A further legal reform, made in 1932, changed this situation by extending the
criminalization of the drug dealer to the user. In a way, this expansion of criminal-
ization mirrored the decisions of the Central Standing Committee on Drugs of the
League of Nations, which held meetings in the 1920s under the considerable
influence of the US prohibitionist model that had already criminalized the traffick-
ing and consumption of such substances (Szasz 1992; McAllister 2000). Thus, in
Brazil, criminal law consolidated the prohibitionist policy that combined health
safety with public security, heavily based on widespread moralistic social demands.
The analytical dimensions of the framework, morality, health safety, and public
security, shaped the form of the law in Brazil at the end of the 1920s and the
beginning of the 1930s, in close communication with the emerging international
system of drug control developing at the League of Nations.
In 1936, during the Getulio Vargas dictatorship (19301945), the Standing
Committee of Narcotics Control, inspired by the League of Nations, was created,
and, in 1938, a new law was passed (Decree Law 891), which consolidated the
previous laws and crystallized the criminalization model that differentiated
users, called drug addicts, from traffickers, with different penalties for
each group. The drug addict would receive compulsory or voluntary hospital-
ization, pending a decision given by the judge based on medical expertise (Art.
28), and would be interned in an official hospital for psychopaths (Art. 29, para.
6) or a hospital supervised by the state. The dealers would be given a prison
sentence, as would health professionals who did not respect the medical prescrip-
tion system. The legal changes in Brazil began to show the oscillation between
criminalizing, or not, users of illegal drugs. Though the 1938 Decree punished
users, the Penal Code of 1940 did not foresee prison sentences for them, although
the punishment, through hospitalization and punishment of the users, remained
(Boiteux and Padua 2014).
Brazilian legislation has closely followed the international drug control regime
since this period. A signatory to the UN Single Convention of 1961, the Brazilian
government ratified this treaty in 1964, shortly after the military coup in April 1964,
and subsequently updated the legislation in 1968 (when it changed again and
equated the crime of trafficking with the use of illegal drugs), and in 1971,
following international updates, until the most comprehensive reform in 1976.
The 1976 Toxics Law kept the differentiated penalty for users and traffickers,
providing harsher penalties for crimes committed under the influence of illegal
drugs. The division between these two criminal categories was updated, as we shall
see, in the 2006 Law on Drugs. The use itself of an illegal substance was not
penalized, but the possession of any quantity of prohibited drugs for personal
consumption was; in practice, this maintained the criminalization of consumers.
For traffickers, the penalties were increased, and the repressive rigor was
maintained. The law was presented with two main aims: to promote prevention
and regulate repression (Rodrigues 2015).
The two principles were in tune not only with the history of prohibition in Brazil,
but also with the characteristics of the authoritarian regime of the time, based on the
principle of the moral regeneration of Brazilian society in face of the left-wing
resistance to the dictatorship, and the prevention of behavioral and political devi-
ance of young people following the protests taking place in many countries at the
end of the 1960s and in the early 1970s. Given the increased use of drugs by young
White people and the middle class, the law established three categories of punish-
able subjects: the sick person. the criminal, and the occasional user. The first
was subject to compulsory hospitalization and was isolated in the psychiatric
hospital system. The second was liable to traditional emphasis on criminal punish-
ment, while the third was subject to education, another way of stating the need to
moralize behavior seen as irresponsible.
The repressive approach of the 1976 Act consolidated Brazilian prohibition at a
time when the repression of illicit drugs and the people linked to them took a major
leap forward in the so-called War on Drugs launched by the government of Richard
Nixon in 1971, which began to consider illicit drug trafficking a threat to US
national security. In Brazil, the issue of national security oriented state policies in
times of repression and the Cold War. The repressive drug policy that was consoli-
dated increased the states ability to control social practices, individual and collec-
tive habits, and experiences with the body and sensations that signaled political
resistance and existential alternatives.
In the 1980s, driven by increased consumption and violence related to this illicit
market, prejudices related to the use of illegal drugs grew. In cities like Rio de
Janeiro, drug trafficking groups emerged in favelas, disputing territorial control of
areas in increasingly violent ways. Public security policies, traditionally focusing
on the containment of these poor and mostly black populations, began to identify
the drug dealer as their main enemy. The criminalization of poverty, studied by
authors such as Wacquant (2001), Batista (2012), and Zaccone (2010, 2015), thus
gained, with the Brazilian version of the War on Drugs, a major new target among
the social groups who were historically targeted by the public security tactics.
The existence of a growing demand for cocaine, linked to the geographical
situation of Brazil as a transit region for Andean cocaine on its way to Europe,
made Brazil an emerging consumer market where illegality helped the emergence
of disputes between drug trafficking groups (Arias 2006). State repression, com-
bined with rising levels of corruption, fueled both prejudice against drug users and
traffickers and the widespread fear that resulted in social demands for increased
penalties and the toughening of public security policies. An important example was
the approval of the Heinous Crimes Act in 1990. This law established the crimes
that were considered the most serious in the Brazilian criminal justice system.
Trafficking in illicit drugs was included alongside other practices such as terrorism,
genocide, rape, murder, and torture; a fact that reveals the place and importance that
illegal drug trafficking held at that time in legal, political, and social spheres in
Brazil (Prado 2013).
After this beginning, the 1990s saw few changes in the drug policy field. The
attempt by the Cardoso government to set up the National Anti-Drug Secretariat, as
previously mentioned, was accompanied by special operations by the Federal
Police, supported by the Army, in cannabis-producing regions in Northeast Brazil,
and specific investigations into politicians accused of involvement in drug traffick-
ing (Rodrigues 2012a, b). In 2002, at the end of Cardosos tenure, there was also an
inefficient attempt to reform the 1976 law, due to the many presidential vetoes it
suffered (Ribeiro 2013). However, the new decade had just begun, and with it, a
stimulation of public debate and of the legal formulations on illicit substances in

Brazil.
The 2000s: The New Law on Drugs and Its Critics
The arrival of the Lula presidency in 2003 brought hope for those involved in the
critique of prohibition. After all, the Workers Party (PT) had in their ranks experts
from various fields of knowledge interested in trying new approaches to address the
issue of illicit drugs, both in terms of users and traffickers, and it was through those
active in the PT that the concept of harm reduction, developed initially in the
Netherlands in the mid-1980s, was introduced, which seeks to minimize the prob-
lems caused by the problematic use of psychoactive drugs without requiring
abstinence from the consumer (Ribeiro 2013). Indeed, in the early stages of
Lulas mandate, the Ministry of Health introduced a preventive logic similar to
the harm reduction paradigm.
The 2006 approval of the Law on Drugs 11,343 was accompanied by great
expectations. Many of its provisions appeared promisingly innovative for anti-
prohibitionist activists, health professionals committed to approaches such as
harm reduction and the prevention of the abuse of drugs, lawyers and agents of
the law critical of the effects of urban violence, activists from the anti-psychiatric
movement in defense of human rights, and social scientists interested in highlight-
ing the conflicting consequences of maintaining the War on Drugs.
The text of the new law stated that the policy system on drugs would be focused
on respect for human rights, autonomy of individuals use of psychoactive sub-
stances (Art. 4, 2), the recognition of diversity and diversity of people (Art.
4, 2), and the promotion of individual responsibility with regard to drug abuse
(Art. 19, 3). Risk reduction (Item 6) was seen as a prevention activity, and the text
foresaw a balance between the goals of prevention and treatment besides
suppressing illicit trafficking (Art. 4, 9). These quotes are just examples of the
general tone of the intentions of the document, whose presentation was celebrated
by government representatives as a breakthrough. In fact, these elements might
initially be considered to be progressive when compared to the clearly repressive
previous legislation. Undoubtedly, the 2006 Law incorporated critical approaches
to radical prohibition, introducing themes and concepts belonging to reformist
currents.
The major decisions considered progressive advances, however, were
reserved for treating the users of illegal drugs. Although the law used the vague
expression of misuse, possession of illegal psychoactives was decriminalized,
meaning the end of prison sentences (Art. 28), although it was maintained as a
crime. Cultivation for ones own use, an activity valid primarily for marijuana, was
also recognized as activity not to be penalized (Article 28, para. 1); while the
possession of illegal psychoactives aimed at shared usage, which was previously
equated with drug trafficking, had its sentence cut (Article 33, para. 3.) (Boiteux
et al. 2009; Karam 2008). The legal text also made a distinction between the
professional drug dealer and occasional traffickers to distinguish between
those who are effectively dedicated to illicit trafficking and those who occasionally
get involved in the sale of illegal drugs (often related to personal use). Thus, Law
11,343 of 2006 reserved penalties that consist of a warning, the provision of
community services, and compulsory attendance at courses or educational pro-
grams for the drug user (Prado 2013, p. 46).
With respect to the dealers, the legal treatment was different. The provision of
punishment was stiffened, with the minimum sentence, previously 3 years,
increased to 5 years. Another problem, according to the literature, is that the 2006
Law continued without establishing specific criteria to distinguish users from
traffickers (Boiteux et al. 2009; Prado 2013; Carvalho 2015; Karam 2008). The
1976 Law introduced this distinction with the clear intention to criminalize both
users and traffickers, providing different penalties for each category. However,
the 2006 Law sought, in theory, to maintain this distinction, ending criminalization
of the user, seen as a person who needs care in the health sector, while increasing
the severity of the criminal punishment for traffickers.
Identification of the activity (trafficking or personal consumption) was the
responsibility of the judge, who received the process as recorded by the police
authority. For Boiteux et al. (2009), the law brings an excessive degree of subjec-
tivity, indicating the police inspector should consider circumstantial elements, such
as the location where the police had apprehended someone with illegal drugs.
According to Karam (2008), this ambiguity expressed a deliberate punitive com-
ponent that aimed to criminalize Black, poor, and young people who could be
classified as dealers, constituting an official perpetration of the violation of
fundamental rights, such as the presumption of innocence and the guarantee of
defense.
In this sense, one could say that the historical penal selectivity applied to the
field of illegal drugs, which traditionally sought the arrest of certain individuals
and social groups, especially young Blacks, the poor, and favela dwellers, was
indirectly further officialized by the 2006 Law. The prejudice of race and social
class is, in Brazil and in other countries, one of the main elements that give strength
and efficiency to prohibition as a tactic to selectively pursue certain members of
society. The result, according to Boiteux (2015), and Boiteux and Padua (2012),
was excessive imprisonment; fundamentally, that of young Blacks and other poor
young people accused of drug trafficking. According to Boiteux (2015), using
Brazilian penitentiary census data, the percentage arrested related to drug traffick-
ing was 9.1 % in 2005, rising to 25.2 % in 2012. In absolute terms, this growth
meant an increase from 47,472 people arrested in 2006 for drug trafficking to
125,744 inmates in 2011, according to data from the Penitentiary Department of
the Ministry of Justice, mentioned by Pinto and Oberling (2016).
In short, the new law on drugs strengthened penal selectivity and increased the
capacity of the state apparatus to imprison in the name of combating drug traffick-
ing. According to Franca (2015, p. 115), despite its humanistic and educational
rhetoric and supposed tolerance of the celebrated cultural diversity . . . [the 2006
law] repeated the worn-out medical-legal approach of drugs and their consumers,
not giving up the concept of penalties. These penalties, we could add, were not
maintained or strengthened only for those categorized as traffickers but also for
those classified as users; one of the controversial issues of the law is the
possibility of the compulsory hospitalization of those considered to abuse psycho-
actives. The old figure of user as sick, present in the 1976 Law, is preserved in
the current legislation, despite the humanist language, as seen above in Francas
criticism. Apprehension by the criminal justice system extended its resources to
possibilities of humanized confinement by the devices of the health system.
The inefficiency of the humanized provision of health care, according to
Boiteux (2015), was one of the biggest failures of Law 11,343/2006. The punitive
emphasis was accomplished while depenalization failed to come about. For Prado
(2013), at the time of the laws enactment, there was controversy among lawyers,
experts, and the press, instigated by those who believed that the end of the sentence
for personal use meant, in practice, the decriminalization of drugs. Prado states that
the interpretation that prevailed among lawyers and judges was that the possession
for personal use was still a criminal offense although sui generis . . . [as it does
not] fit into the list of crimes or the list of misdemeanors (Prado 2013, p. 47). From
a more critical perspective, Karam (2008) maintains that the purpose of the
deprivation of freedom (jail) for users did not mean decriminalization, because
the 2006 Law continued to provide for alternative sentences, such as warnings,
community service, fines, and mandatory attendance at anti-drug educational
programs. The punitive logic was thus not surpassed but rather continued in the
area of open control (Ramus 2015). In addition to the legal formalities, the sui
generis situation was, in our analysis, precisely the continuity of the punitive logic
that persists in the 2006 Law on Drugs, directly connected to the permanence of the
repressive logic that identifies internal enemies, thereby reinforcing confronta-
tions through increasingly militarized public security policies. This punitive trend,
however, coexists in a diverse environment with multiple positions with regard to
drug policy, constituting a rich and unfinished space of clashes in the legislative
framework, academia, and civil society; a fact that characterizes the current state of
the debate on the economy and the right to use psychoactive substances in Brazil.
Between Pacifications and Conservatisms
The beginning of the 2010s was marked by two movements: on the one hand, the
toughening of public security policies with the unfolding of favela pacification
programs in Rio de Janeiro, and, on the other hand, the emphasis given by President
Dilma Rousseff in her first term to combat the so-called crack epidemic in Brazil.
The pacification of favelas in Rio de Janeiro began in 2008, with a state
government program called Police Pacification Units (UPPs), consisting of the
occupation, through Military Police raids, of favelas previously run by drug traf-
ficking groups, followed by the establishment of permanent monitoring posts. The
program was developed as a response to the demands of a large part of Rio de

Janeiro society that the urban areas dominated by drug trafficking groups should be
subjected to direct state control. The overall aim of the UPPs is to bring order back
to the territories and the population living in favelas, backed by a discourse that
promises to promote the integration of these populations into the economic and
social dynamics of the rest of the city. From the police point of view, the UPPs
indicate an approach based on the principle of community policing or proxi-
mity, which is distinct from the traditional treatment by the military police of such
populations in promoting preventive practices and avoiding armed clashes, ensur-
ing constant contact between police and residents, and encouraging ongoing col-
laboration of the residents themselves in the fight against illegal groups (Souza
2015; Cabeleira 2015).
By early 2015, 38 UPPs were established in favelas, following a strategy to
occupy specific areas of the city following the main routes of land access, the area
surrounding the International Airport, the central financial area, and the south zone,
the main tourist area. The program has not ended drug trafficking, but has rather
remodeled it, including the displacement of drug trafficking groups to other favelas
in Rio de Janeiro or neighboring cities; the readjustment of trafficking itself, which
has become more discreet, or at least less explicitly violent; and the increased
presence of militias: illegal armed groups made up of many former police officers
and former military that are engaged in the mafia-like management of a number of
illicit activities that not only include the sale of prohibited psychoactive substances
but also control over public transport and the supply of cable television and gas
(Serra and Zaccone 2012). The decrease in the most explicit violence has led to the
massive influx of private investment from companies and private foundations, as
well as from tourists and public services, which have increased the legal economy
without demobilizing the illegal economy.
Though the discourse is based on the concept of human security, defined as a
security policy based on respect for human rights, the UPPs have been the target of
complaints and accusations that tell of the continuing violence and corruption
among the military police, who have continued repressive patterns similar to
those of the military police, besides committing abuses in the control of areas and
populations under militarized authority (Serra and Zaccone 2012; Rodrigues and
Serra 2014). The military emphasis that has historically oriented the action of the
military police can be seen in the way it occupies and disciplines areas, in addition
to physically eliminating persons identified as criminals or traffickers (Brito
2013; Rodrigues and Serra 2014). This emphasis was not only part of the daily
practices of the UPPs, it was directly triggered by the presence of armed forces
personnel in specific missions carried out in the favelas since 2010.
In August 2010, President Lula da Silva signed a law (Supplementary Law
136/2010) that regulated an instrument present in the Federal Constitution of
1988 related to cases in which the federal forces, including the military, could be
employed within national territory. This instrument, known as The Guarantee of
Law and Order, is controversial, as it dates back to the high degree of military
repression and control of the national security system during the dictatorship that
ended in 1985. Overall, the 2010 Law established parameters whereby state gov-
ernors could request from The President of the Republic the intervention of federal
forces in cases of serious upheavals or threats to public order or institutions. Based
on this law, the state government of Rio de Janeiro requested the support of federal
forces to fill two large groups of favelas known as the Alem~ao and Penha Com-
plexes. With no precedent, the federal government, through the Ministry of
Defense, organized the Pacification Force, formed by army troops and soldiers
who had previously served in the United Nations Mission for the Stabilization of
Haiti (MINUSTAH), acting in very similar scenarios in Rios favelas (Barros &
Botelho 2013; Rodrigues 2012a).
The Pacification Force was linked to the UPP program to gradually hand over
control of the favelas to the military police, a process completed in July 2012. This
was the longest military occupation period of any region within Brazil, largely
justified by the fight against drug trafficking, indicating the endurance of Brazils
support of repressive prohibition (Rodrigues 2013; Rodrigues and Serra 2014). This
emphasis continues to be the most visible face of drug policy in Brazil, as indicated
by the excessive imprisonment data mentioned above and the increasing deploy-
ment of the armed forces linked to the military police, who, for decades, have
followed repressive doctrines and practices arising from the national security policy
of the civilian-military dictatorship.
The use of the word pacification recalls other violent episodes in Brazilian
history. This term was used to describe the subjection by force of indigenous
peoples by the Portuguese colonizers and the Catholic orders that came to Brazil
to preach in the sixteenth century. In the nineteenth century, the same expression
was used in regard to the military victories of the Brazilian Empire against regional
republican revolts, with the Duque de Caxias, the top military commander of the
Empire and patron of the Brazilian Army, being called The Peacemaker. At the
end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century, pacifi-
cation was used in relation to social upheavals and messianic religious movements
in the Brazilian hinterland, as in the case of Canudos, while the integration of the
Amazon region into the Brazilian political and economic arena, under the command
of Marshall C^andido Rondon, a project also termed as pacification, once again
implies the attempt to civilize indigenous peoples (Gomes 2014; Zaccone 2015;
Rodrigues 2012a).
While the army occupied the Alem~ao and Penha complexes, the government of
Dilma Rousseff, who replaced Lula da Silva as president in 2011, continued the
ambiguities of the drug policy that began in 2006, the year when the new Brazilian
Drug Law was approved. The Rousseff government combined public health
approaches with continued international support of prohibition and the use of a
certain alarmist rhetoric, especially with regard to the alleged epidemic of the use
of crack, which was challenged by public health research but widely spread by the
media discourse and the Brazilian state. In December 2011, the government
launched the Crack can be conquered campaign, through which it offered partner-
ships with state governments to support therapeutic approaches to crack and other
illicit drugs and federal assistance to combat drug trafficking (Dias 2012; Bastos
and Berloni 2014).
According to Dias (2012, p. 87), the public debate and government policies at
the federal and state levels are partly marked by positions that place crack (and its
psychoactive effects) as a kind of agent responsible for the most varied forms of
social disparities, like a modern time villain. This assessment, at best, gives the
psychoactive drug the power of a conscious and active agent, and, in the worst case,
makes the user also responsible, due to error or severe moral deviation, supposedly
proven by their being given over to addiction (see Programas de Bracos
Abertos. . . www.capital.gov.sp, 2015). Thus, programs aimed at crack users
combine, in a somewhat tense way, harm reduction and repressive policing, as a
huge moral, health, and security stigma hovers over these people who roam
impoverished regions of the big Brazilian urban centers.
Even a program of the city of S~ao Paulo, started in 2014, with the humanitarian
title Open Arms Program, attributes the success of their initiatives with crack
users to the withdrawal of 80 % of users from the citys central streets, thereby
reducing robberies and thefts. This piece of information notes that users are directed
to healthcare centers and shelters or cheap hotels associated with the low-skill jobs
they are offered and, on the other hand, points out the desired effect for a significant
part of society that fears these people who walk around in the streets like tramps and
who may commit petty crimes. The Open Arms Program is not the only one in
Brazil today trying to put into practice Harm Reduction tactics, seeking a rap-
prochement with users leading to their being registered and referred for housing and
formal work (Carvalho and Pellegrino 2015). Initiatives such as these are criticized
by some sectors of society, such as researchers, health professionals, and political
groups linked to churches and other conservative groups, who support compulsory
internment with the aim of total abstinence from the use of psychoactive drugs. The
result is a tense process in which punitive and non-punitive approaches are in
conflict. Thus, therapeutic and humanitarian justification becomes dependent on
the police and public security; this is an important example of the tense and hybrid
situation that defines drug policy in contemporary Brazil.
Though public policy programs had already charted a tense and ambiguous
relationship between welfare and repression, in 2010, the drug policy debate took
on an even more conservative element when Federal Deputy Osmar Terra of the
Brazilian Democratic Movement Party (PMDB) of Rio Grande do Sul State,
presented a bill which provided for changes to the 2006 Law on Drugs, toughening
punishment for trafficking and defining users as patients requiring medical
treatment based on the standard of complete abstinence (PL 7663/2010). According
to Pinto and Oberling (2016), Terras proposals were the reaction of conservative
sectors of the House of Representatives, especially political groups affiliated with
the neo-Pentecostal churches and more traditional segments of Catholicism, to the
alarmist and widespread assessment that Brazil would face an epidemic of crack
use and be subject to the associated increase in violence related to drug trafficking,
including in cities in Northeast Brazil, where, historically, this form of violence was
less observed.
In terms of criminal law, the bill entailed an increase in the minimum sentence
for drug trafficking from 5 to 8 years, while the welfare field recommended
involuntary (without user consent and made at the request of a third party)
hospitalization or compulsory (without user consent and made by order of the
judiciary) treatment of users of drugs with a high potential to cause dependency
(PL 7663, p. 26). The welfare tone of the document did not hide, however, a
necessarily negative evaluation of the use of psychoactive substances, and
contradicted the progressive elements of harm reduction present in the Drugs Act
of 2006. One of the items that caused the most controversy among academics,
health professionals, and members of social movements in the field of anti-
psychiatry, as well as critics of prohibition in the legal field, was the recommenda-
tion in this bill that private entities be incorporated into partnerships with the public
health system in order to attend to dependent users.1 In practice, this recommen-
dation officialized sending illegal drug users to clinics or private therapeutic
communities, mostly linked to evangelical or Catholic religious organizations,
that would apply controversially rigorous treatment focused on complete absti-
nence from substance use (PL 7663, p. 3, amendment to Art. 3, 2 of Law 13,363/
2006). Under such controversy, the bill passed through the House of Representa-
tives in May 2013, going on to be discussed in the Senate.
Between May 2013 and October 2014, the Bill approved in the House was
debated, amended and changed. Again, the ambiguous content caused by the
presence of conservative and progressive interests was seen. Pinto and Oberling
(2016) report that basic elements referring to the compulsory and involuntary
treatment in therapeutic communities survived in the text, while the provision to
increase the minimum penalty for drug traffickers was omitted. At the same time, in
the Committee on the Constitution and Justice of the Senate, the recommendation
was added that objective criteria be established to distinguish users from traffickers.
This would involve the inclusion of tables on the specific amount of drugs taken as
sufficient for single use, in order to avoid what we call in the previous section of this
chapter the officialization of criminal selectivity directed to certain social groups
traditionally targeted by the War on Drugs in Brazil.
In the field of treatment, the revisions suggested by the Senate maintained the
provision of involuntary, but not compulsory, hospitalizations, and maintained the
link between the public health system and the therapeutic communities, making the
private entities less central. The general tenor of the debate in the Senate was the
softening of the repressive tone of the original text approved in the House of
Representatives, though the elements of tension between welfare and punish-
ment that have characterized the legal struggles on Brazilian drug policy at the
beginning of the twenty-first century persisted. While this chapter is being written,
1
Therapeutic Communities are private entities recognized by the Brazilian Federal Government,
authorized to treat users of legal and illegal drugs and provide care and psychological and medical
support. These entities receive public resources to maintain this service and, officially, cannot
force the user to stay or follow a certain religious orientation, nor can they disregard the right to
receive family visits.
the legislative process has not yet been completed. The text still needs to be voted
on in the Senate and returned, modified, to the House of Representatives to again be
debated, amended, and voted on. If approved, it will go to the President of Brazil,
who will sign it in full or approve it with cuts. It is only then that the changes in the
2006 Drugs Act would take effect.
Beyond Conservatism: Perspectives for Transformation
When compared to the intensity of the debates on prohibition in other Latin

American countries, such as Uruguay, Argentina, Colombia, and Mexico, as seen
in other chapters of this book, the clashes on drug policy in Brazil seem timid and
conservative. Uruguay is seeking to introduce an unprecedented experiment with
legalization of the full economic cycle and consumption of marijuana under tight
state control; Mexico is making advances in reviewing its highly punitive laws,
opening the possibility of a clear distinction between users and dealers; and we see
the broad legalization of marijuana in the US states of Colorado, Oregon and
Washington. However, public debate and the legal review of projects in Brazil
are at a much more primary level; this does not mean, however, that there are no
clashes or protests.
In 2014, two other bills, with quite different contents from the 2010 one, were
introduced in the House of Representatives (Pinto and Oberling 2016). The first was
Bill 7187, proposed by Deputy Eurico Jr. (Green Party/Rio de Janeiro) on the
legalization of marijuana. Under the bill, the whole production chain: storage,
sale and use of marijuana, would be legalized and regulated, including the right
to plant for individual or shared use (PL 7187/2014 Art. 8, para. 1). Almost simul-
taneously, Deputy Jean Wyllys (Party of Socialism and Freedom /Rio de Janeiro)
introduced an even more complete bill that included the general propositions by
Eurico Jr. and added other elements such as the removal of drug trade from the
category of heinous crime, although it did not provide for the legalization of
drugs; that is, drug trafficking would still be considered a criminal activity
(PL 7270/2014). In addition, the bill gives complete amnesty to those convicted
of trafficking and whose sentences were related solely to marijuana (Art. 21).
Similar to the proposal approved by the Uruguayan parliament in 2013 in terms
of the legalization of marijuana, the Wyllys project indicates that the state be
responsible for regulation of retail outlets and cannabis producers, including the
recognition of producers and vendors who are now illegal (Art. 1). Finally, the use
of other illegal drugs would be decriminalized, though their production, sale, import
and export would remain prohibited.
It is important to remember that processes of the decriminalization of illegal
drugs transform the use and possession of illegal drugs into atypical behavior; that
is, besides not being liable to prison sentences, they are removed from the list of
crimes and therefore cease to generate any form of registration or criminal record.
However, decriminalization does not alter the illegality of prohibited
psychoactives, thus it does not affect the drug trafficking economy. Legalization
initiatives, by contrast, legalize the whole economy of previously repressed psycho-
active substances by directly affecting the legal basis underpinning prohibition.
Accordingly, PL 7270 proposes the complete legalization and regulation of mari-
juana and the decriminalization of all illicit drugs, softening the punishment for
drug trafficking without defending the complete legalization of illegal drugs. Thus,
there would be elements that combine the Uruguayan proposal, specifically for
marijuana, with the more comprehensive legislation such as that found in Portugal,
which, in 2002, decriminalized the possession of all illicit drugs.
Finally, PL 7270 emphasizes the elements present in the 2006 Drugs Act,
referring to the emphasis on freedom and individual responsibility in the use of
psychoactive drugs, limiting the cases where compulsory treatment would be made
only to those cases of imminent danger to life and by medical recommendation.
Drug use in these conditions is considered problematic and should be confronted
by preventive actions and harm reduction, and not by way of involuntary treatment
or compulsory abstinence.
It is also important to know that the project of Deputy Jean Wyllys was made in
collaboration with professional NGOs involved with the antiprohibitionist cause,
such as the Rede Pense Livre [Think Free Network]; the movement for the
cultivation of marijuana, Growroom; and the Movement for Marijuana Legal-
ization. According to Pinto and Oberling (2016), the bills of Eurico Jr. and Wyllys,
as they were complementary, were annexed to each other, and as this chapter is
being written, are being debated together in the House of Representatives, waiting
to be voted on. If approved, they will follow the same route as that of the bill of
deputy Omar Terra.
Also in 2014, the marijuana legalization movement sent to the Senate an idea
for legislation, proposing the legalization of the entire economic circuit of mari-
juana, including its therapeutic and recreational uses. Containing 20,000 signatures,
the proposal was under the care of Senator Cristovam Buarque (Democratic Labor
Party/Federal District) of the Participative Legislation Commission on Human
Rights in the Senate. Converted into Suggestion no. 8, the proposal focused on
the argument that the illegality of marijuana produces more social damage, in terms
of public health and safety, than would its possible legalization. The final report,
presented in November 2014, recommended the regulation of cannabidiol, an
anticonvulsant drug produced from cannabinoids, taking advantage of a scenario
favorable to its acceptance. This scenario included the wide dissemination cam-
paigns made by mothers of children suffering from diseases causing strong con-
vulsions who risked importing cannabidiol illegally or using marijuana illegally.
The debate around this issue was driven by the documentary Illegal, by Tarso
Araujo, and the opinion in the mainstream press in favor of the use of cannabidiol.
Much of the discussion emphasized the fact cannabidiol does not cause psychoac-
tive effects, highlighting the endurance and the strength of the argument against the
recreational use of marijuana, though favorable to the potential medical applica-
tions of the principles found in the weed.
In January 2015, the National Health Surveillance Agency (ANVISA), the

Ministry of Health body that incorporates the international regulations on drugs
and regulates legal psychoactive substances in Brazil, regulated the use of
cannabidiol (Franca 2015). This recent episode reveals a broadening of the discus-
sion of the use of marijuana, indicating greater social sensitivity to the medicinal
benefits present in the weed, accompanied, however, by a repetition of the conser-
vative arguments of the uses that are beyond the therapeutic field, revealing a
moralistic view on drugs. It can be argued that the regulation of cannabidiol in a
scenario in which marijuana remains illegal indicates the relative openness to a
certain readiness for change within the traditional prohibition limits that, since its
beginnings in the early decades of the twentieth century, have been based on
medical and health arguments to justify the prohibition of a number of psychoactive
drugs, including marijuana (Szasz 1992; Rodrigues 2012a, b). In this sense, legal
permission for the therapeutic use of marijuana would only change relative to the
medical-health discourse that has been the basis of prohibition by broadening the
non-repressive areas still under prohibition, nationally and internationally. With
regard to the processing of users, the welfare tone is tempered, but the fact it is still
there may reveal a tactic to appeal to more conservative sectors and those that are
sensitive to the health hazards argument pertaining to the use of psychoactive
drugs. Nevertheless, the struggles around drug policy in Brazil do not only take
place in the legislative sphere, distant from a wider social debate.
The critical movements of prohibition in Brazil began to be organized there at
the end of the 1970s and the beginning of the 1980s through independent publi-
cations, such as the anarchist newspaper, Inimigo do Rei [Enemy of the King],
while certain segments of left-wing parties and social movements mobilized in the
political opening negotiated between the socio-political fronts of the democratic
opposition and the authoritarian regime controlled by the military (Delmanto 2013).
In the 1980s, the debate grew in the university environment, leading to the first open
campaigns for the legalization of drugs and the publication of pioneering works on
the issue of drugs in the field of public health, individual freedom, and religious
practices.
It was precisely in the area of the debate on the use of psychoactive substances
that the first cracks in Brazilian prohibition appeared. There were intense discus-
sions when, in 1985, the drink ayahuasca, which contains DMT, was banned by
decision of the Federal Narcotics Council (CONFEN). This psychoactive sub-
stance, traditionally used among indigenous and mestizo populations in several
Amazonian countries, is a central element of certain syncretic religions that
appeared in northern Brazil in the 1920s, and became known as Brazilian ayahua-
sca religions, such as Santo Daime, Uni~ao do Vegetal, Barquinha, and other
branches and offshoots of these religions. After intense discussions by an organized
working group at CONFEN made up of scholars, practitioners of ayahuasca reli-
gions, and experts from the social, medical, and legal sciences, the group
recommended the authorization of the use of ayahuasca in ritual and religious
contexts, a decision that influenced legislation in a number of countries (Labate
and Feeney 2012; MacRae 2010).
In the 1990s, a pioneering movement took place around the theme of harm
reduction, triggered by progressive doctors like Fabio Mesquita, Tarcisio Andrade,
and Antonio Nery. These doctors, professionals, and activists who were associated
with public health programs that tried to introduce elements of harm reduction in
Brazil have suffered political persecution and lawsuits for their alleged apology
for drug use and for facilitating the use of illicit drugs at the time of the repressive
1976 Toxics Act. Nevertheless, in 1997, the Brazilian Association of Harm Reduc-
tion (ABORDA) was founded, and, in the following year, the Brazilian Network for
Harm Reduction (REDUC) was formed.
The militants and intellectuals who were critical of prohibition began to gain
momentum in the early twenty-first century, when a new generation of researchers
in the field of anthropology, sociology, history, law, and political science deepened
the debate on drug policy outside the traditional field of public health and criminal
law. A milestone in this process was the formation in 2001 of the Interdisciplinary
Study Group for Psychoactives (NEIP), created by an initial group of researchers
from those areas who were interested in exchanging studies and enhancing the
discussion, both in the academic sphere and among the Brazilian public. Over the
years, NEIP has developed a network of Brazilian and foreign researchers dedicated
to disseminating classic and unpublished work on psychoactive drugs, which can be
found on a virtual platform.2
In 2002, the network Growroom was founded,3 dedicated to discussing and
spreading the issue of homegrown cannabis, and associated with the struggle for
the legalization of the weed and the adoption of harm reduction policies in Brazil. In
2003, in Rio de Janeiro, the anti-prohibitionist NGO Psicotropicus was founded, a
militant pioneer in institutionalizing the pro-legalization advocacy of drugs. This
group organized the first Marijuana March, held group meetings, and brought
together supporters of marijuana legalization who began to organize simultaneous
public demonstrations in major Brazilian cities. The marches were banned by court
decisions, but with the new Law on Drugs in 2006, this ban was revoked. In 2011,
after years of fierce legal struggle, the Supreme Federal Court decided that the
marches were constitutional (Delmanto 2013; Boiteux 2015).
Academic production on the theme increased in the mid-2000s, showing inter-
faces between the government and critical research, as exemplified in the report
Trafficking and the Constitution: A study on the work of the Criminal Justice of
Rio de Janeiro and the Federal District in drug trafficking crime, coordinated by
Luciana Boiteux (Boiteux et al. 2009), with an interdisciplinary academic team in
partnership with the Ministry of Justice. Changes at the level of civil society also
intensified, with the NGO Viva Rio broadening its range of issues to the field of
illicit drugs, and the arrival of new NGOs, such as the Igarape Institute, founded in
2008, that devotes much of its work to comparing proposed national drug policy
2
In order to consult the NEIP platform and find out about its material and history, consult www.
neip.info; also see Labate et al. (2008).
3
For more information on Growroom, consult www.growroom.net.
with international experiences to recommend paths for legal reforms in Brazil.

Finally, we can highlight the founding of the Brazilian Platform for Drug Policy
(PBPD), an ambitious initiative to establish a permanent space for both public
intervention and advocacy for research on the consumption of drugs and drug
policies and spreading critiques of prohibitionism. This Platform has developed
from previous initiatives and brings together a number of researchers and insti-
tutions mentioned above, such as NEIP, Growroom, and the Igarape Institute.4 To
start up, the Platform received financial support from the Open Society Foundation,
founded by George Soros, who had, in the 2000s, also supported Psicotropicus, a
pioneering NGO in this field in Brazil; Open Society is still present in Brazil today,
supporting the Igarape Institute.
Final Thoughts: Still Many Struggles
Since the 1990s, Brazilian drug policy has been driven by enthusiasm for harm
reduction reforms and for the, social movements and initiatives in the academic
field that began to reverberate in the sphere of public and legislative debate. The
violence produced by the Brazilian version of the War on Drugsassociated with
the dynamism of the debate on legal alternatives, the pressure of social movements,
and new international experienceshas led to the opening of new spaces to reflect
on the issue of illegal psychoactive substances in Brazil.
At the same time, conservative forces, relying on considerable political repre-
sentation, have increased pressure against the potential easing of prohibition. This
group, composed of religious people, politicians, police, doctors, social workers,
and traditional lawmakers, took advantage of the high level of social sensitivity to
the issue of public security that links the traditional aversion to the use of psycho-
actives, often for moral or religious reasons, to the considerable tolerance of the use
of violence by the state to curb crime and control social groups considered danger-
ous through their habits, origins, social class or skin color, in order to try to advance
their cause.
If prohibition was historically established as a powerful biopolitical tactic to
control the population, whether by the disciplining of individual habits and medical
practice, or by the selectively directed repression of social groups targeted by
criminal law (Rodrigues and Labate, in this volume), it is clear that the Brazilian
version of the War on Drugs has been very effective as a means to constrain
individual conduct, the occupation of certain areas of the cities, and the imprison-
ment of thousands of men and women, mostly young, poor, and black. The 2006
Drug Act, mirroring the tensions between progressivism and conservatism, brought
elements such as the separation between dealer and user, which was already
4
For information on the Brazilian Platform for Drug Policy (PBPD), consult its website: www.
pbpd.org.br.
present in the Toxics Law of the military dictatorship; but, instead of using this
distinction to jail less people, it ended up increasing imprisonment and controls
over wider social groups. In addition to the imprisoned and imprisonable social
groups, one can wonder to what extent the timid recommendation of decriminal-
ization of the use of psychoactives ultimately expands the forms of control of
individual habits and behaviors through so-called alternative sentences, such as
requiring community service or mandatory treatment (Ramus 2015).
Rolles (in this volume) notes that after the legalization of marijuana in Colorado
and Washington, the Federal Government of the United States changed its stance,
softening the traditional defense of prohibition into what the author calls a third
way or middle-ground approach: a departure from the heavily repressive poli-
cies to incorporate the argument of public health, treatment of users, and alternative
sanctions. According to Rolles, this slight movement in the US approach would be a
way to respond to demands for reform and to react to bolder changes taking place in
the world today. Taking into account this analysis, it would be possible to say that,
in the current situation, Brazilian drug policy is moving in this middle ground and is
trying to move forward in some respects, while encountering well-established
conservative resistance.
In biopolitical terms, investment in the health of the population takes on another
dimension in the cooperation between state and private entities, revealing the
tensions arising in the field between harm reduction approaches and those of
therapeutic communities that believe in total abstinence and moral correction of
the individual as a goal. This repressive level also combines new militarized
territorial occupation tactics that not only aim to arrest and assassinate people
defined as traffickers but also to reorganize the urban space in the favelas and
allow new forms of social and economic integration, accompanied by political
gains in social control.
Thus, the current maintenance of prohibition with militarized traits has not
prevented dissenting voices in Brazil from emerging in recent years. Social move-
ments, academic debates, and the unprecedented mobilization of intellectuals,
professional politicians, and militants has increased the tone and force of debates
on alternatives to prohibitionist drug policies. The clash between progressive and
conservative perspectives reveals that the debate on drug policy in Brazil is in full
swing, echoing aspects of political and moral traditions in confrontation in society.
If we accept the data that Brazil has become the second largest consumer of cocaine
in the world,5 and that its situation as a country with high levels of laundered money
and activity of transnational mafias place it in the center of the global debate on
drug policy, it is expected that this subject will take on increasing importance,
connecting Brazilian struggles to the greater dynamism seen in the US and many
other Latin American countries.
5
According to data published by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, Brazil has
become the second largest consumer of cocaine (smoked, sniffed, and injected) in the world,
second only to the United States (see UNDC World Drug Report 2014).
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Chapter 12
Uruguay: A Way to Regulate the Cannabis
Market
Guillermo Garat
Regulation Historically
Uruguay is the first country in the world to regulate the whole chain of the cannabis
market. On December 10, 2013, the Uruguayan Congress passed a bill authorizing
six female cannabis plants per household, the creation of cannabis social clubs with
up to 45 members, and the sale of cannabis in drug stores. All this represented a big
movement for local and regional drug policies, where different political, social,
cultural, and economic factors converged to regulate the cannabis market.
The history of drug policies in Uruguay started 100 years ago. In the first years of
the twentieth century, Uruguay set the base for a Welfare State during the presi-
dency of Jose Batlle y Ordo~nez, and its movement called Batllismo. Uruguay was
one of the first countries in the world that allowed divorce only by the will of
women. The country also set a maximum of 8 h for a workday and legislated social
security protection for workers, quality free education and universal public educa-
tion for children, and healthcare for all. The church was separated from the state at
that time. Prostitution was legalized, as were gambling houses (Nahum 2004).
Batllismo tried to build a state alcohol refining monopoly, which had been held
by a French company (Martnez 2012). Those years were called, los a~nos locos:
the crazy years. Uruguay had a plethora of liberties; people discovered new civil
rights. The export-oriented economy, based on cattle exportation, gave liquidity to
the country.
In 1908, Batllist president Claudio Williman approved a decree that banned
giving a drug for a second time without medical prescription. Midwives, dentists,
veterinarians and doctors were no longer able to buy opiates in drug stores. Only
midwives could get ergot to stop cervical hemorrhages. Dentists, exclusively,
G. Garat (*)
Universidad de la Republica, Montevideo, Uruguay
e-mail: guillegarat@gmail.com

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_12
210 G. Garat
prescribed cocaine as a local anesthetic. Only doctors could write prescriptions for
opiates. Regulation was not successful. Drugs such as cannabic oils and tinctures,
indica joints, cocaine to inhale or to inject, coca leaves, and opium macerations
were sold in drug stores without problems (Garat 2012).
Drugs were tolerated in the first years of the twentieth century in Uruguay. In the
public sphere, drugs were used as a medicine. In the private context of households,
drugs were used for recreational purposes. The Uruguayan population could buy
them in drug stores; most of the time, with a prescription; other times, without
(Garat 2012).
Uruguay is a small country; its drug policies are intimately linked with those
abroad. In 1914, Uruguay ratified The Hague Convention with the law 5.186. At
that time in the USA, some religious groups demanded and lobbied for the prohi-
bition of drugs. The movement supported global prohibition against opium in the
1909 Shanghai Convention.
This movement was important for Uruguay. Those conservative groups found an
ally in the South American continent, something not so easy to find among producer
countries. Uruguay had a strong diplomatic body in the old League of Nations in
Geneva, and integrated its Opium Commission almost from the beginning to the
end. A fluent correspondence started between Uruguay and the groups lobbying for
prohibition (Garat 2012).
In 1912, the Hague Convention, proposed by the League of Nations, set clear
parameters for the countries. Police and Customs all over the world were integrated
to control the trade for opiates and cocaine. Signatory nations were obliged to report
to the Opium Commission once a year. Drug traffickers, amounts used in hospitals,
importation, exportations: everything was scrutinized. In hospitals, regulation was
also tight. After some time, other drugs would come to be used (Garat 2012).
The Medicalization of Drug Use
In 1917, the National Board of Health created the first commission to legislate and
control drug use and trade. Drug stores were obliged to write a book with the
medical recommendations and label these products as poison in big capital
letters. Police complained that their hands were tied with procedures, so traffickers
carried out their business freely. The Police asked the government to pass the cases
of traffickers from Misdemeanors Court to Criminal Court.
In the conservative and progressive media, the issue of drugs was presented as a
real problem for public health and security. The media repeatedly published that
traffickers were poisoners and users sick people who had lost their minds. In 1922,
police raids focused on cabarets and brothels, where authorities reported that illegal
drugs were sold. The media and a few politicians interested in the matter repeated
that the use of drugs started as a fashion for aristocrats, and that snobbism was
imitated by the lower classes (Garat 2012).
12 Uruguay: A Way to Regulate the Cannabis Market 211
The Opium Commission in Geneva supervised and regulated the sale of opium
and cocaine. The cannabis trade was includedand bannedby the Geneva
Convention, signed in 1925. The League of Nations cooperated to control the flux
of drugs between countries. Nations should take measures to prohibit, as regards
their internal trade, the delivery to or possession by any unauthorized person, the
Convention expresses. The international agreement started with the preliminary
criminalization of drug use outside the parameters of medicine.
During the 1920s and 1930s, while Batllismo lost its power, reactionary and
unprogressive political movements took over the government. Cooperation
strengthened between international conservative movements, local politicians, doc-
tors, and the police (Garat 2012).
Pro-fascist Gabriel Terra, elected as president in 1931, executed a coup detat in
1933. Terra had been the minister of Home Security (Interior Security Ministry),
and supported the 1922 raids against traffickers, guesthouses, and cabarets where
drugs were usually sold, after the prohibition started (Montevidean Police 1923).
As dictator, he continued with an effective repression of supply, but also with a
tight control of the market. During his period, two laws were approved (9.692 and
8.947), so the state monopolized the trade, manufacture, and sale of controlled
substances. Terra also created various state commissions to coordinate the repres-
sion of trafficking and the treatment for users, giving more and more power to
police inspections. The law 9692 punished importation, exportation, and trade of
cocaine, opium, and its derivates.
In 1934, the Penal Code was reformed to punish possession, or sale of those
substances (Law 9155). The Ministry of Public Health was created (Law 9202) with
the aim of being the police of the social vices. The new Ministry built a
Defense Committee on Substance Abuse (Decree 27/1934), launched a national
radio campaign, and printed thousands of leaflets and some books in which doctors
spread their ideas about drugs.
Confidence in doctors grew among society. Child deaths drastically diminished,
while health improved in the general population. Finally, doctors monopolized
illness treatments successfully and became the directors of modern conscious-
ness, for the conduct of society (Barran 1993a, p. 170). At the time, doctors were
heavily inspired in orthopathy. Feminism, drug use, and alcohol, among others,
were the illnesses produced by the straying of anti-natural conducts. The expla-
nation about what drugs were was reduced to scare qualifications referring to drugs
as a macabre celebrity plaguing humanity, leading to individual degeneration,
and the decline of the race (Legani 1915, p. 10).
The cause for criminality, overpopulation in psychiatric asylums and prisons,
and prostitution, seemed to be alcohol use, opiates, cocaine or cannabis. In 1896,
202 people were admitted to psychiatric hospitals. In 1930, 5218 people were put in
long-term rehab treatments (Barran 1993b). Good medical practices and immigra-
tion made population grow from 936,120 in 1900 to 1,903,083 in 1930 (Nahum
2007).
Government doctors, supporters of the Terra dictatorship, claimed that drugs
increased the alarming development of criminality, overcrowds asylums and
212 G. Garat
hospitals; disorganized society leading to the loss of the noblest feeling, such as
love for family and love for the country were caused by those drugs (Peragini
1935, p. 10).
During the 1930s the Uruguayan diplomatic corps participated in meetings and
exchanged correspondence fluently with religious and political organizations gath-
ered at the World Narcotic Defense Association. In the meetings of the Association,
some Uruguayans actively participated and exchanged mail and opinions with
association members. Since 1933, Uruguay has been a member of the Central
Committee of the Directing Council of the Opium Commission of the League of
Nations. The country assimilated the mandates and a mass media campaign started
all over the country. The use of illicit drugs was practically eradicated in homes and
was drastically diminished in hospitals. In 1937, law 9.692 expressly prohibited
drug use. Sentences for using drugs were decided by Criminal Courts. Between the
1940s and 1960s, Police assumed responsibility for the control of the drug market,
pushing health care services to the background (Garat 2012).
The Militarization of Drugs
North American President Richard Nixon declared the War on Drugs in 1971. He
defined drugs as public enemy number one for his country. Those drugs were
mostly produced in Latin America for the enjoyment of the United States popula-
tion on a large scale (Del Olmo 1992).
At that time, Latin American dictators were mounting several coup detat in the
Southern Cone. Augusto Pinochet in Chile, Jorge Videla and a Military Junta in
Argentina, Juan Mara Bordaberry in Uruguay, Alfredo Stroessner in Paraguay, and
military rule in Brazil. Those dictatorships worked hand in hand with the CIA to
create a special agency against leftists, trade unions, and political opponents. Plan
Condor was the name of the political coordination to smash subversion without
borders (Dinges 2004).
In a similar way, dictatorships fought against drug users and trafficking. In 1972,
the Argentinean Chancellery invited all South American countries to a gathering to
revise their laws to the new regime, the War on Drugs. The meeting gathered
governmental experts on drugs issues. South American police forces, doctors,
lawyers, and authorities organized the encounter. The USA boosted the meeting
with their agencies. Interpol, the World Health Organization, and advisers of the
U.S. Embassy in Argentina, among other envoys from all over the continent,
participated in the meeting (Garat 2012).
One year later, in 1973, the South American Agreement on Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances (ASEP) was signed to adapt the laws to every Latin
American country. The South American protocol criminalized the use and posses-
sion of drugs. The main objective of the ASEP agreement was not only to adapt
laws to a new era but also to establish a medical-legal discourse on the continent.
The main concern of authorities was marijuana, for causing criminality, violence,
and lack of personal motivation among young people (Del Olmo 1988).
By the early 1970s Uruguay had two Conventions to ratify. The Single Conven-
tion on Narcotic Drugs, approved in 1961, and the Convention on Psychotropic
Substances of 1971. Those international treaties classified substances and banned
their use, with the exception of medical and scientific purposes. The Convention of
1971 made a distinction between traffickers and users. The international laws asked
for punishment for the whole chain of production, distribution, and trade. But for a
simple user, or someone who committed a crime using drugs, local authorities could
choose between punishment and rehabilitation. In Uruguay, the dictators State
Council approved implementation of ASEP. The law passed (14.294) ratified the
main elements of the ASEP and the conventions of 1961 and 1971. They focused
their efforts on the repression of drug consumers and drug trafficking, and
established a list of 100 prohibited substances.
The continental agreement set clear parameters to fight against this so-called
social vice. Although drug use was on the rise, its relevance was marginal in
Uruguay. There were no dealers, and the common population didnt know anything
but what they heard from the media about drugs. Few people had access to drugs,
with only some travelers, mostly artists, having occasional possibilities to access
cannabis, LSD, or cocaine. Demand was low because of the tight social and
political control of the population under the dictatorship (Garat 2012).
Uruguay ratified the ASEP agreement, but with a relevant difference. The
dictatorship allowed the use of worldwide-prohibited drugs. But it banned the
commerce, distribution, and every way to obtain those drugs, except for medical
or scientific purposes. The law (14.294) exempted from punishment any person
having a minimum amount intended solely for personal use. While most of Latin
American countries prohibited consumption of drugs, Uruguay did not. The
pioneering measure had its explanations. Firstly, the liberal mentality was an
ideological guide for politicians since Batllismo. Secondly, law professor Adela
Reta integrated a Parliamentary Commission in 1972 where the drug abuse issue
and the ratification of international treaties were in debate. She was also a lawyer,
and wrote several articleseven during dictatorshipdefending drug users in
trials. Professor Reta also integrated a Special Board for the States Council
where she defended recreational drug use, and even home growing of cannabis.
She argued that personal conduct, when it does not affect others, is licit. The Special
Board, whose members were designated by dictatorship, was integrated by doctors
who defended the position that a user of drugs was a sick person who needed some
kind of rehabilitation. That was also the position of the World Health Organization
at that time (Aguirrezabala 1974).
The dictatorship State Council finally concluded that drug users were sick.
Instead of the imprisonment of users, health authorities would rather send them to
psychiatric hospitals. In 1973, a special force in the Police was created, the Anti
Narcotics Brigade. Between 1972 and 1978, 1054 people were arrested by the
police because of drug use. 425 were delivered to criminal courts, and 217 were sent
to the psychiatric hospital (Gori 1980). Detention meant torture, jail, and harmful
214 G. Garat
therapies for users, most of whom were not drug addicts (Garat 2012). At that time,
police reports explained that use which was not problematic would be tolerated.
Older, high society vacationers used cocaine in Punta del Este, the most expensive
seaside Atlantic resort during summer (Gori 1980). On the other hand, the special-
ized anti-narcotic police force seemed especially worried about drug use among the
young. Sights were set on students, hippies, and, 10 years later, punks. The
response of the state changed the social and economic integration of the user to
society (Aguirrezabala 1974).
The government had the monopoly on public care services for drug use. One
public hospital was the only one responsible for treatments. The main challenge for
health services was withdrawal; however, therapies were completely ineffective.
The deteriorated psychiatric hospital was not prepared for this population (Con-
gress 1989).
A Democratic Path to Regulation
In 1985, Uruguay recovered democracy. Drug-related issues weighed heavily on

the publics mind. The media showed drugs as a pathway to crime and sexual
depravity; meanwhile, drugs were associated with young people, students or those
with a rock and roll-style look. Surveys showed that Uruguayan society considered
drug use among the worst problems in the country. The press systematically
associated drugs with drug abuse, and use with addiction. Authorities coordinated
repression against young people and incarcerated mostly high school and university
students. Anti Narcotic Police made 1470 detentions between 1986 and 1987
(Bayce 1989).
The police repression of young people decreased with the pressure of a social
movement organized by the youth; mostly in the Frente Amplio [Broad Front]a
coalition of leftist partiesand also other movements of young people, mostly
students. The Youth of the Socialist Party, a small group, asked for the legalization
of cannabis; as did another group, a school of ideas in the Faculty of Law. Lawyers
and professors promoted individual liberty to have cannabis for personal use (Garat
2012).
In National Courts it has been discussed if planting two or three marijuana seeds can be
considered. . . .The law, broadly, refers to the production and trafficking in relation to the
production or distribution of drugs susceptible to endanger public health. The penal pro-
visions do not safeguard the physical integrity but public health and that is why the behavior
must partake in the nature of the crimes of common danger (Reta 1983, p. 39).
Uruguayan jurisprudence was divided. On one side, prohibitionists, and on the

other side, liberal lawyers, professors, and other professionals defending the precept
of the law that allows drug use. In 1987, the Congress set a Commission to study
drug abuse. All political parties were incorporated into the Commission and
received several professionals working with drug related issues, governmental
authorities, lawyers, psychiatrics, psychologists, and professors. Most of them were

worried about the consequences of repression in drug use among young users
(Uruguayan Congress 1989). Milton Cairoli, law professor in the Republic Univer-
sity, and future Minister of the Justice Supreme Court, extrapolated on the way
police trapped students, violating citizen rights. Miguel Langon, Professor of
Criminal Law at the University of the Republic, said that, under the banner of
supply, the country has not done anything but criminalize the possession. Ofelia
Grezzi, professor in Criminal Law, also spoke in Congress about the criminaliza-
tion of youth, of users, and warned that the law prohibited growing for commerce,
but not for using cannabis. Enrique Probst, then president of the Uruguayan Society
of Psychiatry, admitted to the bad conditions that users of marijuana were subjected
to in psychiatric hospitals.
The special Commission in the Congress was not able to change the law, but in
1998, Uruguay voted on its first law for drugs in democracy. It aligned internal law
with the United Nations Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and
Psychotropic Substances (1988). The international treaty set a universal law against
drug trafficking, money laundering, chemical precursors, and assistance among
countries; but the Convention also obliges countries to apply criminal law not
only to producers or traffickers, but also holders (Jelsma and Metaal 2004).
The law 17.016 included money laundering, illicit enrichment, and prohibition
on the sale or trade of chemical precursors. Despite the legal international mandate,
Uruguayan law did not abolish banking secrecy and did not punish personal use of
drugs. The law also worked to decriminalize, lowering minimum sentences for
drug-related offenses (Cama~no 2004, pp. 7996). Article 31 allowed a reasonable
amount intended solely for personal use. This legislation, still in force, was differ-
ent from its predecessor in that it tolerated possession of a minimal amount. Law
17.016 opted to address the principle of user dependence. The term reasonable
amount attempted to interpret the quantity of drugs seized with the frequency of
consumption of the user to set a standard for the personal use allowed by law.
The reasonable amount was interpreted by the judges moral conviction,
which confers a significant degree of discretion. The moral conviction of judges
. . . constitutes a disguised form of criminalizing possession of drugs for personal
consumption, said Gianella Bardazano (2012, p. 58), criticizing Article 31. Peri-
odically, courts recognized the amounts seized for a couple of days consumption as
excessive. In prosecutions, courts also weighed economic and social contexts.
Recent research suggests that the weight of law falls on citizens with little educa-
tion, low-income, unemployed or having informal jobs. This population represents
the weakest link in the chain, and is the most vulnerable to police procedures
(Garibotto 2010, p. 71).
216 G. Garat
Presidents for Regulation
In 2000, Uruguayan President Jorge Batlle asked Latin American presidents to

legalize all drugs in Santiago de Chile in a meeting organized by the Inter American
Society of Press. Batlle is liberal; Gary Becker and Milton Friedmann are his
theoretical references for assuming the necessity for legalizing drugs (Garat
2012). If that powder (cocaine) was worth 10 cents, there would be no organiza-
tions dedicated to collect billions of dollars, he said in a television interview (Luna
2000). Gervasio Guillot, Minister of the Supreme Court, publicly defended the idea
of President Batlle. Guillot did not believe that decriminalization was a panacea,
but a way to cut corruption generated by drug prohibition. He said it would be
important to regulate the soft drugs such as marijuana, whose use is widespread, to
see what happens with the others [drugs] (Cotelo 2001).
Government kept a harm reduction policy in the poorest neighborhoods. NGOs
working in partnership programs with the National Board on Drugs distributed
needles to addicts; the World Health Organization of the United Nations promoted
the program. Government also created a harm reduction program for the summer to
prevent and assist in cases of overdose. A guide for secondary students was
published to create consciousness about the risks of taking one or another drug.
For the first time, a government regulated, through Health Ministry ordinances,
clinics for addictions; despite there being no effective way to control the clinics
because there was no law about it, so many human rights abuses were reported.
Moreover, rehabilitation was not described in scientific parameters but rather moral
ones (Garat 2012).
Congress approved two laws (17.835 and 17.704) to standardize internal law to
international requirements. During the 1990s, Latin American drug cartels and
political corruption laundered millions in Uruguay. They opened offshore public
limited companies with offices in Uruguay, but deposited assets in tax haven
Caribbean banks (Argentinean Congress 2001).
In 2003, Uruguay suffered its most important economic crisis in recent times. In
2001, 18.82 % of Uruguayans were under the poverty line; in 2004, 31.86 % of the
population was under the poverty line (Amarante and Vigorito 2007). Reforms in
drug policies were stopped. The social emergency, lack of horizons and the fatigue
of the traditional parties, among other relevant issues, led to a shift in Uruguayan
politics. In 2005 The Frente Amplio, the coalition of left parties, won the elections,
for the first time.
One of the first government guidelines was the creation of a commission,
coordinated by the Ministry of Public Health, to evaluate problematic drug users
and develop a new strategy. The analysis of the commission said:
Uruguay, like other Latin American countries, has increased the demand for drugs. Quan-
titative changes in consumption in recent decades had been identified qualitatively. There is
an almost monolithic concept whereby drugs are considered as an external threat, highly
destructive. Tobacco and alcohol, however, are not seen so dramatically. The negative
insight for drugs does not produce proactive attitudes in society that generate overt action
on the issue. [. . .] Another element that emerges in the dominant discourse is the focus on
drug use among youth. Young people are the consumers par excellence; this idea ignores
the high prevalence of consumption of legal drugs especially in adults. [. . .] The traditional
response of the health care system has been, with few exceptions, abstinence as a require-
ment for attendance. International statistical surveys, carried out in drug user populations,
show that a small percentage of them would like to give up consumption. Therefore, an
abstention approach excludes most users from contact with the health care systems ( Junta
Nacional de Drogas 2010, p. 2).
For the first time, a Uruguayan government built centers for ambulatory treat-
ments and admission in specialized health care centers in different places of the
country with professional human resources (law 17.930). Private and public hospi-
tals were committed to offering good quality health care service for drug abuse.
Special offices were created to detect money laundering (law 18.588). A fund was
installed with seized assets of criminal organizations related to drug trafficking
(laws 18.046, 18.494 and 18.588). Financial Services Superintendence was con-
ceived to keep an eye on money laundering, and a National Secretariat for Money
Laundering Assets was constituted (law 18.401). Variable capital companies, many
times just screens for laundering, were no longer allowed (law 18.083). Limitations
on banking secrecy were voted for by Congress (law 17.948). Special Courts for
Organized Crime were established (laws 18.362 and 18.390). The fight against
traffickers grew, and for the first time, corrupt lawyers and big entrepreneurs went
to jail because of money laundering.
The Social Dimension
The use of drugs, but particularly cannabis, was tangible in public places such as
football stadiums, squares, in the nightlife, and also surrounding educational cen-
ters. Social acceptance, particularly among young people, grew, principally in
Montevideo, the capital city (Garat 2012). By 2007, 24.4 % of the lower secondary
students in Montevideo had tried marijuana at least once in their life; 39.3 % of
secondary students older than 16 years had experimented with cannabis (Junta
Nacional de Drogas 2007).
In 2006, the social Movement for Cannabis Legalization was created. Cannabis
growers, who shared knowledge about cannabis cultivation in internet forumsand
were in contact with growers abroadunited with young politicians from the
Frente Amplio and cannabis users (Garat 2012). As time passed, other organiza-
tions, such as the Federation of University Students, LGTB organizations, The
National Union of Workers (PIT-CNT), academics, lawyers, doctors, artists, poli-
ticians, and others joined the movement. In 2007, they joined in an informal
coalition for legalization (Filardo et al. 2008).
Contact was sporadic among organizations and individuals. They worked
together for some events in public squares that caught the attention of the media
because they smoked cannabis freely. The press also published seminars or
218 G. Garat
conferences held by these organizations. The movement joined to write press

statements or agree to the terms of the Global Marijuana March (Filardo
et al. 2012).
This movement had different demands over time. In the first public meeting of
the coalition in 2007, president Vazquez was asked for the normalization of
cannabis and allowance for growing at home. The movement demanded a change
in drug policies and the end of misinformation and prejudice. They criticized social
hypocrisy, the War on Drugs, baseless detentions, costly prosecutions, and pointed
out the role of the state in punishing private actions, allowed by Constitution and
laws (Garat 2012).
Young politicians in Frente Amplio made some declarations of President Tabare
Vazquez possible. Asked by journalists about his opinion about legalizing mari-
juana, he replied that a national debate should start. In 2008, the ruling party, Frente
Amplio, asked Congress to reconsider the legal frame of drug policies on the basis
of reality (Frente Amplio 2008, p. 90).
During 2008, the United Nations Commission of Narcotic Drugs (CND)
(Commission on Narcotic Drugs 2006) approved the resolution 51/12. For the
first time, the Commission of Narcotic Drugs signed a statement where Human
Rights were incorporated into the speech of this UN body:
Countering the world drug problem is a common and shared responsibility that must be
addressed in a multilateral setting, that requires an integrated and balanced approach and
that must be carried out . . . with full respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of
States, the principle of non-intervention in the internal affairs of States and all human rights
and fundamental freedoms. (CND 2008, p. 1)
Uruguay presented the proposal, which was supported by countries like Bolivia,
Argentina, Santa Lucia and Switzerland.
During the presidential election in 2009, the issue of legalizing marijuana was
raised by journalists to the Presidency candidates. Some answers were politically
correct, others called for a debate (Garat 2012). In March 2010, Jose Mujica began a
second governance of the Frente Amplio (Garat 2012).
In 2011, a 63-year-old woman was imprisoned because 29 small cannabis plants
were found in her house. Her case gathered media attention and activists
campaigned for her release. The legal contradiction was quoted once again. A
group of young congressmen from every political party got together to propose
new legislation which allowed planting cannabis at home and having a certain
amount of marijuana (25 g) in the street. At that time, a commission in the Congress
about drug-related issues recommended the government change laws in a pragmatic
way. They received dozens of specialists in law, health, security, academics, and
drug treatment communities. The Deputies thorough report sought a comprehen-
sive public policy to treat problem drug users and health and not criminals,
including them in the health system and not in the prison (Uruguayan Congress
2011, p. 1).
Legislators recommended the medical practice known as harm reduction,
according to the recommendations of Dr. Raquel Peyraube. The Commission also
called for a good education to control consumption, giving a proper answer

about how, when, where, with whom, and for what using drugs. At the same time,
they stressed the need to correct inconsistencies in current legislation, considering
that consuming is not punishable but access to certain substances is (Uruguayan
Congress 2011, p. 2).
The parliamentary declaration requested decriminalization:
From a cultural point of view decriminalization would help reduce stigmatization of
consumers and particularly young consumers, as well as inadequate and automatic associ-
ations between marijuana and criminality. The current rules promote foreshadows and
forces consumers to commit a crime to get the substance. (Uruguayan Congress 2011, p. 8)
Drugs and Security: Towards Regulation
Meanwhile, Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, and, above all, Mexico were fighting against
illicit crops, spending millions of dollars and losing not only thousands of lives but
democracy with the new millenniums War on Drugs (Astroaga 2011). Cartels
multiplied in these countries and governed more and more territories where national
governments didnt reach populations with effective public policies. Those power-
ful gangs grew and are still growing (Cabieses 2011). Information from the Federal
Government in Mexico warns that from 2006 to 2012 in Mexico, more than 121,000
people lost their lives in addition, 27,000 disappeared between 2007 and 2013
(Human Rights Watch 2014). Narco gangs control dozens of cities and villages,
they impart justice and terrorize millions of inhabitants. Not only in Mexico or
Colombia but also in Central America, where those criminals are allied with maras
and paramilitaries in the business of carrying cocaine to USA and Europe, the main
markets for these illicit and harmful activities (Mazzitelli 2012).
Former presidents, such as Fernando Henrique Cardoso (Brazil); Cesar Gaviria,
who fought heavily against Pablo Escobar in Colombia; Ernesto Zedillo (Mexico)
and the former UN Secretary Ban Ki Moon, among other leaders, called for an end
to the drug war in the Global Commission in 2009. The War on Drugs was lost,
claimed those presidents.
In a statement, the Global Commission called political leaders to begin the transformation
of the global drug prohibition regime. Replace drug policies and strategies driven by
ideology and political convenience with fiscally responsible policies and strategies
grounded in science, health, security and human rightsand adopt appropriate criteria
for their evaluation. Review the scheduling of drugs that has resulted in obvious anomalies
like the flawed categorization of cannabis, coca leaf and MDMA. Ensure that the interna-
tional conventions are interpreted and/or revised to accommodate robust experimentation
with harm reduction, decriminalization and legal regulatory policies. Break the taboo on
debate and reform. The time for action is now (Global Commission on Drugs 2011, p. 3)
Between 2011 and 2012, homicides rose in Uruguay from 199 to 267 Home
Office (2013). Homeland Security authorities warned that uptick had its explana-
tion in a new kind of crime in the peaceful country: settling scores between gangs
that control distribution of drugs in the internal market accounted for 29 % of total
220 G. Garat
homicides. Police stated that paid assassinations began in Uruguay at that time.
Police and government strongly believe that those groups are jeopardizing peaceful
Uruguayan cities. These gangs corrupt poor neighborhoods, combat the police, and
dispute the drug trafficking between them, creating a new scenario for violence in
Uruguay, probably amplified by tendentious media.
In January 2012, a big trafficker was murdered by being shot seven times. Since
that episode, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Police stated that organized
crime gangs, mostly dedicated to drug trafficking, were solving problems with guns
(Asesinato de Risotto llama la atencion por lo cruel 2012). In March 2012,
President Jose Mujica created an inter-ministerial commission to address violence
in society. The government was worried about interpersonal violence in house-
holds, at football matches, in schools, and on the streets. It seemed that Uruguayans
were solving problems in a violent way. Drugs and crime were one of the engines of
new types of violence in Uruguay, authorities repeatedly alleged.
In June 2012, the government introduced the idea of regulating the cannabis
market in the country accompanied by a series of measures known as strategy for
life and living. The governments proposal to control and regulate the cannabis
market was concretized in August 2012 with the submission of a bill to Congress;
explaining the roles and basing the decision on a number of historical and political
factors. There was an explicit recognition that the War on Drugs was lost, despite all
efforts. The government acknowledged that seizures of prohibited substances fail to
defund drug trafficking but compromise public budgets and various kinds of
resources, as happens in an overcrowded judicial system and overflowing jails.
The preamble of the law criticizes the double standard of society that denigrates
the user. It also suggests that the approach should be open-minded, preventive,
informative, and based on scientific fact. While the vast majority of marijuana
users in Uruguay have a casual relationship with the substance that is not a major
problem for physical health, it is important to note that they are exposed to
psychological, social, and legal risks due to the need of having illegal access
(Uruguayan Government 2012a, b, August 8, p. 11).
Access to cannabis was always problematic for the user; the exposure to
clandestine networks forces the user to unnecessarily possible use of other,
toxicologically riskier drugs. The justification states that the worst consequence
of deregulation is the monopoly that criminal activity holds (Uruguayan Govern-
ment 2012a, b, August 8, p. 11). A market of untold profits undermines democratic
values in all spheres of social and institutional life, the government warned.
The legal proposal mentioned that, as a result of the implementation of policies
based on prohibition, a new type violence was generated by a new type of gang that
had never before shown its face: paid assassins, and a growing brutality in poor
neighborhoods In short, the cure has been worse than the disease, diagnosed the
government, proposing regulation, production, procurement, storage, and distribu-
tion of marijuana (Uruguayan Government 2012a, b, p. 5).
Regulation
Cannabis is the most-used illicit traffic drug in Uruguay; 20 % of people aged 1565
have used marijuana in their life (Junta Nacional de Drogas 2012). The law for
regulating the cannabis market, proposed by the government, party-line congress-
men, and supported by civil society organizations, was not shared by the Uruguayan
population. In July 2012, public opinion surveys showed that 66 % of the polled
universe rejected the law for regulation and 24 % approved it. Civil organizations of
growers, activists, human rights defenders, the national labor union, students,
artists, and others gathered under a platform called Regulacion Responsible
[Responsible Regulation]. Their aim was to fight for common sense in public
opinion.
The group conducted public opinion studies to know where to hit. They shaped
arguments, and started with a radio, television, and press campaign to change the
perception of the population. The main arguments for the campaign were that
regulated cannabis was a proper answer for the failure of the War on Drugs.
Regulation would take away from traffickers a significant portion of the drug
market, and its revenues; something that would erode its power for corrupting
(Regulaci on Responsable 2013).
Supporters of the regulation claimed that regulating the market would take
cannabis users away from the harder drugs offered in the clandestine market.
Judicial and police resources would be optimized with a tolerating regulation. It
was also said that cannabis has interesting medical uses, and that it would be more
difficult to find cannabis for teenagers under 18 years old (Regulacion Responsable
2013).
The public opinion debate was highly governed by a moralized perspective in an
aged society like the Uruguayan. There was a context of social polarization when
discussing security problems, and the support of public opinion was declining.
Aguiar and Musto (2015) marked some trends governing the debate. There was a
lack of information among citizens and age clearly divided opinions. But, four out
of ten Uruguayans changed their mind when clear information was given.
In August 2013, after the campaign, 61 % disapproved the regulation and 28 %
supported it (Gonzalez et al. 2013). In October 2013, after the law approval, 78 % of
Uruguayans expressed their preference for marijuana users to buy cannabis in drug
stores than from the drug mafia (Factum 2013). In July 2013, the Chamber of
Deputies in Congress voted on the law to regulate cannabis. On December 10, Sen-
ators passed the bill. Uruguay became the first country to control and regulate the
whole chain of cannabis production (Law 19.172). The law created the Institute for
the Regulation and Control of Cannabis (IRCCA in Spanish) to authorize and
monitor crops, harvesting, and the distribution and sale of cannabis in accordance
with the policies proposed by the National Board of Drugs. Private companies were
to provide drug stores with cannabis. Users could buy up to 10 g of five different
strains of cannabis in drug stores.
222 G. Garat
The regulations authorize the homegrown crop of up to six female cannabis

plants with psychoactive effect and a harvest of up to 480 g in the homes of
growers. It also allows membership clubs where users associate to plant jointly.
Cannabis clubs are entitled to have up to 99 plants and could claim from 15 up to
45 members.
The three types of access to cannabis are controlled by IRCCA, which authorizes
the crops. Registration is only for Uruguayans. The procedure is simple: Present an
ID card and proof of residence, and the governmental office will give to the user a
simple card, the authorization.
In August 2014, registration for home growing started. In the first month and a
half, 601 cannabis home growers were registered (Se inscribieron 2014). By
mid-2015, the Uruguayan government was still deciding on from two to four
corporations in a request for bids from the 22 companies that requested to grow
cannabis industrially to provide to drug stores. The Institute shall grant licenses to
produce, develop, collect, and sell cannabis, in addition to monitoring compliance
with the provisions and establishing fines and penalties for violations of the law.
The bill provides amendments to the laws 14.294 and 17.016, allowing research
in medical, industrial, and scientific fields. All types of advertisement for cannabis
are forbidden. Citizens under 18 years are not allowed to access marijuana. Drivers
should not drive under the effects of marijuana. If caught doing so, their license will
be revoked, the first time for 6 months, the second time 1 year, and the third time
theyll lose the license for life.
The National System of Education must plan out policies for health promotion
and prevention of cannabis abuse. The National Integrated Health System must
develop appropriate devices to prevent problematic use of cannabis and provide
adequate care to the users who require it. These stipulations are expected to
improve attention in care centers for problem drug users. The National Board on
Drugs must create media campaigns alerting the population to the risks of drug
consumption. The law also created a Specialized Monitoring and Evaluation Com-
mission to issue annual reports on the implementation of the law. All procedures,
consequences, and enforcement of the law will be analyzed, and the law will change
over time, the government has stated.
By the deadline of this chapter, implementation was still taking its first steps. A
few cannabis social clubs harvested the first crop and home growers also harvested
their first legal cannabis. There is no official information about this crop. Special-
ized Monitoring and Evaluation Commission still did not systematized information.
Milton Romani, secretary of the National Board on Drugs, promised that, at the end
of 2015, users would be able to buy cannabis in drug stores.
Conclusion
Alternative, engaged communities and sustainable policies are vital to Latin Amer-
ica, as can be seen by the chapters in this volume. If the Uruguayan drug policy is
effective, it could send an important message to the international community.
During the last 100 years, the univocal discourse, all over the world, was drug
prohibition; drugs were seen as the Devil on Earth. Nowadays, several countries
have looked for alternatives in drug policies. Testing the hypothesis of prohibition,
such as that drugs lead to crime and that regulation of the market could mean more
use and abuse of drugs, will be crucial for a shift. Latin America bleeds as the
international drug conventions are unchanged. If Uruguay could show, with scien-
tific parameters, that there is another way to deal with drugs, and their impact, some
Latin American countries could have another tool to develop a new scenario built
on tolerating drug policies.
If legal companies centralize the supply, the quality of cannabis will undoubt-
edly be better. Young users would not need to go to clandestine places in slums to
buy marijuana. It seems to be an effective way to pull young citizens out of criminal
environments. It is also a pragmatic way to fight against traffickers and dealers. If
the regulation and control of the cannabis market succeeds, crime should decrease.
The point of view that the Uruguayan society built should have a significant
impact on the health, education, and judicial systems. Despite human resources, in
these fields they are not yet prepared for the change towards regulation. The
demand for a change in drug policies started with younger generations, and its
probable that this generation will push the reform, transcending political parties in
the government.
The most important outcome may be that a sovereign country set drug policies
independently, according to the specific issues that damaged the social body.
International drug conventions are the same for every country in the world, despite
significant differences all over the world. Uruguay shows that there is another way.
This movement could be helpful in the discussions at the United Nations Assembly
Special Session on Drugs (UNGASS) in 2016. At the assembly, the principal
international policy-making organ will discuss changes in the policies set in
1998. Flexibility in conventions has been required by several countries to offer a
realistic answer to a variety of social impacts. The Uruguayan experiment could be
an example that there is way to be effective. Time will tell.
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Chapter 13
Ganja Terrorism and the Healing
of the Nation
Jahlani A.H. Niaah
Introduction: Ganja Terrorism
. . .This is ganja country. We use it at home to make ganja tea. We smoke it in public. We
have been trading this drug for years. . . The Gleaner Editorial, The Ganja Culture. Daily
Gleaner, Friday July 27, 2001.
In Jamaica, the hemp flower is a much serenaded and celebrated delight. The
herb connects to a long and well-established ethno-botanical appreciation, has had
primacy within the island pharmacopeia and commercial trade, and is used by many
of the ordinary people, males in particular, as a meditative aid as well as a daily
prophylactic. This chapter presents Jamaica as its case study to articulate an
example of the politics of the legislative label of drugs and how that label has
been used to sustain hegemonic dominance and the related reign of terror within the
Anglophonic Caribbean through combat related to the so-called War on Drugs.1
Ganja, the local term used to refer to Cannabis sativa, the focus of the case, has
been argued by most Jamaicans to be a naturally occurring plant and not a drug;
the latter viewed as unnatural or synthetic chemical aggregates or processed sub-
stances such as cocaine, crack, and heroin, and deemed as part of European taste
and culture.
The official state attitude in Jamaica towards the increasing use of ganja by the
populace has been tantamount to a protracted victimization of the most marginal
1
Jamaicas 2.8 million are approximately 60 % of the former British West Indies population and is
the regional leader in the export of ganja, with only St. Vincent (population 100,000) in the Eastern
Caribbean having any rivaling significance by way of the herbs production, consumption, and
export.
J.A.H. Niaah (*)
Office of the Principal, University of the West Indies Mona, Mona Campus, Kingston 7,
Jamaica
e-mail: bongoniaah@gmail.com

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_13
228 J.A.H. Niaah
citizenry and a violation of human rights. When the war on ganja is historicized
through its intellectual and political rationales, it demonstrates a hegemonic agenda
that systematically demonizes the plant and its users. The economic and social
foundation of humble citizens lives are disrupted and undermined as official law
enforcement officers actively destroy the harvests and, ultimately, the families of
criminalized farmers, traders, and users, mostly of the poor peasant class. These are
people who choose, notwithstanding the legislations, to involve themselves with the
plant, as many of them see it as a gift of creation for the health of the nation. On the
contrary, the approach towards engaging ganja officially has been guided by
European colonial fear and ignorance, which has resulted in using terrorist tactics
to ensure legislative compliance from the citizenry. The concept of terrorism is
often used by state authorities (and individuals with access to state support) to
delegitimize political or other opponents, and potentially legitimize the states own
use of armed force against opponents. However, in the instance of ganja, the state,
by its invidious historical legislation, has criminalized and sought to eradicate an
embedded heritage. More recently, the tenor of state action has been to seek to
reverse the legislation on the herb; but not before securely placing its reintroduction
within frameworks that ensure the governments control of its expected high
revenues. Thus, there is now within the national climate surrounding ganja libera-
tion an emergent concern that the future industry shall preference big new foreign
investors to the exclusion of those who had for years defended and sustained the
assertion of the herbs importance with their illicit crops. This has been primarily
the Rastafari faithful, often described as a chiliastic movement, based on its psycho-
social orientation, that developed in Jamaica in the 1930s, reverencing the Ethio-
pian Emperor Haile Selassie I as the biblically prophesized world redeemer,
particularly of the enslaved African peoples. Within this cosmology, ganja is a
sacrament used to commune in key rituals and proselytized about as the healing of
the nation (see Bone 2014). For almost a century, key international spokespersons
have been calling for the freeing of the herb.
Ganja entered British colonial jurisprudence as a plant, offensive if possessed,
despite its millennia-long celebration and acclaim by Eastern medicine as a pow-
erful panacea. For the western European colonial overlords, ganja was too powerful
a supplement to remain in the hands of the colonized. In the Jamaican case, this
resulted in a society that seemingly has its majority prepared to subvert the laws and
labeled as criminal and subject to intimidation and compulsion to abstain from
reliance on the herb. In some instances, the police have been known to fabricate the
evidence of possession to help to build their case about the witnesses character.
Urban black ghetto youths, particularly, are regularly terrorized by police in what
has become an increasingly armed struggle with organized gangs, some of which
are affiliated with political parties and their leaders. The so-called War on Drugs
has webs connecting to politicians, drug dons, businessmen, and other professionals
and transcends the margins in which peasants hide to cultivate ganja clandestinely.
This was the situation of notorious drug kingpin Christopher Dudus Coke,
nicknamed The President, whose extradition to the United States in May 2010
on gun and drug charges effectively toppled the seated Prime Minister of Jamaica,
who was seen to be involved in buffering and obstructing the arrest and deportation.
13 Ganja Terrorism and the Healing of the Nation 229
With the added complexity of the involvement of politicians and dons, the zero
tolerance approach is much like blaming the victims; that is, those who seek to eke
out an existence from the use and the petty trade in herb. This chapter contextual-
izes the evolution of the use and official response to ganja in Jamaica, recognizing
that it is the dominant space and demography in the British Caribbean for the herbs
production, consumption and export.
Origins and Development of Smoking Ganja in Jamaica
Jamaicans have been smoking ganja for well over 150 years (see Chevannes in
Klein et al. 2004). By the achievement of political independence in 1962, Jamaicans
were viewed as a population in which dependence on the herb through smoking of
spliffs was considered chronic, a situation facilitated by the embrace of ganja as a
sacrament by the Rastafari movement. The conventional opinion is that ganja, as
suggested by its East Indian name, was brought to Jamaica by Asian indentured
workers who began arriving in the island in the 1840s, and introduced the Kali
ganja rituals to the existing African freed populations (Mansingh and Mansingh
2000; Rubin and Comitas 1976). Bilby (2000), however, introduces a further
possibility that cannabis was known to the African population prior to the arrival
of the East Indians, and it is on this basis that it so quickly became incorporated
within African cultures such as Kumina and subsequently Rastafari. Whatever the
origin, ganja became a common aspect of recreation and ritual practice of Africans
throughout the 1800s, even though there is little evidence of it being cited as a
social problem within the African population; instead, the scrutiny was on the
Indian consumers, who were perceived as social degenerates because of their use
of the herb. The mixing of cultures and bloodlines between Africans and Indians
occurred in Jamaica at an unprecedented rate, largely due to the small numbers of
the latterrelative to Trinidad and Guyana, where Indians made up at least half the
populationresulted in a unique Indo-African fusion generally in Jamaica; espe-
cially in relation to connections involving the cultivation, uses, and general cele-
bration of the herb.
The earliest legislative actions towards the herb ended its importation into the
island in 1913, and, though it is likely to have been cultivated before, this was
impetus for the serious cultivation of the crop in Jamaica to satisfy the local
demand. The legislations set the tone for the systemic approach to ganja as the
debate was advanced on the supposedly demoralizing influence on East Indian
laborers and the African population. In the minority White colonial society, popu-
lation control was central to European governing authorities. The capacity to
maintain control was enabled by laws and institutions (such as the mental asylums
and the prisons built at the end of slavery) that arbitrarily defined the folkways
(drumming, herbal medicine, and ritual practices) that the Africans practiced as
insanity or illegal. If the practices were perceived as providing affirmative linkages
with Africa or native culture, they were thought to undermine the control of the
Europeans and likely to be outlawed (Handler and Bilby 2013). This was consistent
230 J.A.H. Niaah
with the British practice across the world and was their attitude in India towards the
populations usage of ganja. Jamaican Legislative directions on ganja have thus
been first influenced by British colonial insecurity resulting from fears about loss of
control over the poor, both psychologically and economically, by the culture of
ganja; its usage, cultivation, and the sale of its crop. The turn of the twentieth
century saw the emergence of a spirit of independence and mobility among the
African peasant classes that included a high level of migration in search of work and
entrepreneurial opportunities as they sought ways of self-empowerment. In reality,
there seems to have been an early export trade of the herb from Jamaica into the
Central American region around the turn of the nineteenth century, sent by ship to
Colon for the Black Jamaican workers who migrated there to work in building the
Panama Canal (Chevannes in Klein et al. 2004). Emerging here was an alternative
culture and economy, and a motivational ethos among the laboring classes that was
outside of the access and control of the colonial overlords.
After the laws were amended to make the cultivation and importation of the herb
illegal, the major community representing the production of the herb was the
emergent Rastafari, who came into being as an alternative social movement after
the November 1930 coronation of the Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I. They
soon thereafter adopted the stance that the production and use of ganja was
important to their worldview. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, Pinnacle, the
Rastafari headquarters in rural St Catherine, became the site of the commercial
production of the herb for both the local and a secret export market, allegedly the
British frontline during World War II (Niaah 2005).
Legislating Ganja and Rastafari as Threats to the State
The ideological direction adopted by the leaders of independent Jamaica was to

continue along the Westminster political path, which meant a society aspiring to
continue with a colonial agenda towards national development. The local position
on ganja reflects this and is adopted from Britains Dangerous Drugs Act. Among
the items outlined are: raw opium and cocoa leaf, ganja, cocaine, and morphine.
With the exception of ganja, all other banned substances factor insignificantly in
relation to consumption by the general population. However, the prevalence of
crack cocaine has, in recent decades, made an indent, especially in major inner city
ghettoes, propelled by the transshipment hub Jamaica became for Columbian drugs
filtering through the Caribbean into the US. Chevannes argues that the crack
cocaine consumers are wealthier Jamaicans and, further, that it accounts for only
a small percentage of police arrests for drug usage and sale (see Chevannes and
National Commission on Ganja 2001). Thus, whereas the usage of ganja is wide-
spread and highly visible, the usage of other substances considered drugs is
considered somewhat taboo among the general populace, and especially within
the Rastafari faith. Locally the sale of drugs is not shunned as much as the usage
of drugs, meaning usually crack or powdered cocaine.
The Jamaican law seeks to regulate licenses, penalties, and offenses in addition
to interpreting specific technical terms related to the control of dangerous drugs.
Over the years, as the progress towards political independence has come in the
region, the number of controlled drugs has increased, as have the various controls
and penalties for their contravention. In 1924, ganja moved from merely being
prohibited to being labeled a dangerous drug requiring control for the good of
public health; rendering possession, cultivation, smoking, and sale of the substance
illegal. The penalty on first conviction for cultivation, possession, sale or smoking
of ganja was set at 6 months imprisonment with 2 years for second offenses;
additionally, a fine of 100250 pounds could also be applied. In 1941, this law
was amended and the penalties were made even more severe, coinciding with the
emergence of the Rastafari and the routinization of the use of ganja. The 1941
amendment incorporated, for the first time in Jamaican jurisprudence, the principle
of mandatory imprisonment. Judges thus did not have the option of jailing or not
jailing convicted ganja offenders (Rubin and Comitas 1976). By the end of World
War II, ganja moved from the realm of discrete concern about East Indian and some
African involvement to become a matter of police and public concern, with linkages
to crimes fueled by media sensationalism about the strange cultic movement that
celebrated ganja. Further, assisted by the 1951 murder and rape of a couple of
socialites from Kingstons upper classesthe murderous rapist allegedly a bearded
man, the defining feature of Rastafari at that timethe stage was well set for the
vilification of Rastafari.
The movement had a well-developed cosmology founded on Ethiopianism, self-
sufficiency, and a rejection of their domestic governance in favor of separation,
self-employment, and an ultimate desire to repatriate to Ethiopia and Africa. Media
and police guided Jamaican society to see the movement as a national threat based
on its criminal aesthetic appearance, use of ganja, and philosophy. In 1954, the most
significant suppression of the ganja operations in pre-independence Jamaica took
place, targeting the Rastafari stronghold and sending a clear message about how the
authorities would handle violations of the law. It was reported that police in the
biggest raid operation ever would need a month to search and destroy the crop
cultivated over some 500 acres at Pinnacle, the Leonard Howell Rastafari com-
mune, reputedly the largest-ever ganja plantation in Jamaica. The Rastafari com-
mune was an autonomous, vibrant economy for the settlers who had abandoned the
official world of the British colonial sovereign, and they now cleaved unto the
paradigm shown them by their new leader. According to one of his biographers,
Howell was the first Jamaican Don, establishing himself as a virtual demigod in
the village. At the time of the raid on Pinnacle, 140 Rastafarians (including the aged
and ill) were arrested. Most of those arrested were charged with possession of ganja
and given the maximum sentence of 12 months in prison with hard labor (see van
Dijk 1993). This did not deter the further embedding of ganja within Rastafari
culture and, by the end of the 1950s, its usage within the movement had liturgical
elaboration drawn from the Bible and a folklore that spoke of it as the wisdom
tree that sprang from the tomb of King Solomon.
The 1961 Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs came on the heels of a threat to
the Jamaican state, the Claudius Henry saga, in which some Rastafari took up arms
232 J.A.H. Niaah
to free Henry from prison and attempted to liberate the state generally; major
adjustments were made to the local laws after this incident. Society was outraged;
such feelings were incited by the related propaganda that related ganja to 75 % of
criminal activities of the day. As a consequence, in 1961, mandatory imprisonment
for ganja was increased to 5 years. In the government debates that preceded the
amendment, it was indicated that the local government was faced with serious
international pressure to control the export traffic of ganja or foreign relations
would be damaged. The migration of Jamaicans to the United Kingdom and the
United States actively started to increase in the post-World War II period; it is
shortly after this outward thrust of West Indians to metropolitan centers in the north
that international pressure begins to mount on the Jamaican ganja industry. Legis-
lation in the early 1960s expanded to allow greater authority to police ganja, and the
increased measures used to deter trade, and to include the confiscation of property
involved in the production, conveyance or sale of the plant.
In the raging debate on ganja and claims of its harms and need for legislation,
there had been no empirical research to support these arguments. Jamaicas fame
for having a population of chronic consumers of ganja facilitated a landmark
project involving an international team of researchers performing clinical and
field studies. Led by Dr. Vera Rubin of the Research Institute for the Study of
Man and Professor Lambros Comitas of Columbia University, work in Jamaica was
carried out from 1970 into 1971. The study by Rubin and Comitas (1976), Ganja in
Jamaica: The Effects of Marijuana Use, did not find any negative effect that might
be attributed to chronic ganja use; but, although it provided a basis for some states
in the U.S. to improve their positions, the conservative anti-ganja debate not only
continued, but intensified in the wake of the considerable increase worldwide in the
smoking of cannabis, especially in the North Atlantic countries. So significant was
the concern about the rise of the ganja influence and trade from Jamaica that, in
1974, the United States Senate held hearings from a panel of experts, including
Jamaican professionals, to examine the Marihuana-Hashish Epidemic and its
Impact on United States Security (Lowe and Morrison 2013). The hearings were
prompted because of the skepticism with which the legislatures viewed the Rubin
and Comitas report, especially in the face of mounting immigration into the United
States from Jamaica. This historical moment coincides with the global rise of
Rastafari and the illicit ganja trade, the explosion of which had been greatly
facilitated by the Rasta musicreggaeas well as the emergence of a new
agriculturally-vibrant Rastafari collective, the Ethiopian Zion Coptic Church. The
latter had built its commercial base completely on the large-scale production of
ganja and had made inroads with commercial interests in the United States,
airlifting ganja directly from Jamaican fields to U.S. markets. Jamaican ganja had
now spread beyond Jamaican diaspora, transported by reggaes message, it had new
connoisseurs extended across the Caribbean region and increasingly into Europe,
North America, and even in Latin America, Asia, and Africa.
Popular Approach to Dispensing Ganja
Ganja has been sold in the local markets in Jamaica for generations, despite the fact
that it has been an illegal and well-policed commodity. As a result, an intricate
system of providing access to the therapeutic use of the herb has emerged. Ganja,
herb or weed camps are a part of the culture of marketing herb to individuals and
form a part of collective solidarity and security for the users. These camps,
permeating the urban inner city, date back to the days of Leonard Howells
cultivation of the plant at Pinnacle in the 1940s. Given the illicit nature of the
cultivation of the crop, ganja is generally grown in areas that are securely
ensconced away from easy invasion by law enforcement officers on eradication
missions. Found on sometimes-remote foot journeys into the mountains, the first
camps are situated, where one finds unmolested celebration and excessive indul-
gence of ganja, rolled as giant cigar, as well as dispensing to traders who come to
the source to purchase quantities for local and international consumption. The local
access and distribution is often facilitated by professional drivers, as well as private
individuals who are invested in the commerce of the herb, and are often willing to
undertake the risk of travel to urban centers sometimes as far as 250 km away. It is
through this track that ganja arrives in the market place. Traders are prepared to
engage with this product because there is a significant demand; it is commonly said
that more than 60 % of the population consumes this herb in some form, and the
markup in the trade ranges from 40 to 200 %. Usually males (but in some instances
females have also been engaged) isolate themselves from several weeks to months
to tend to fields of ganja, applying knowledge passed down about the mystic taboos
and rituals surrounding the successful production of the crop. For example, men-
struating women are proscribed coming in contact with the crop; but, in general,
there is the notion that the ganja flower produced by the female plant is a spiritual
product that must be delicately attended to, preferably by males.
In the urban market, the most common and accessible dispensing is street side
makeshift and mobile vending stations which offer a range of goods ranging from
sweets to cigarettes, biscuits, fruits, water, juices, condoms, etc., as well as herb and
the related paraphernalia for its consumption (tobacco blend, rolling papers, and
increasingly, chalice pipes for burning the ganja). The chalice, chillum or water
pipes, as well as the hookah, used for the ganja ritual of reasoning, holds major
significance to the Rastafari cosmology. Reasoning is a dialogical melding of ideas
that facilitates the process of becoming Rastafari; thus, ontologically, it is the major
ritual and important, ongoing, and often informal process of conscientization that is
facilitated by copious ganja smoking sessions lasting from a few hours to several
days. This ritual is especially observed in the context of the Nyahbinghi ceremony,
the celebration in which the congregation assembles on significant Pan-African
anniversary dates throughout the year (including celebrations of the birth and
coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie and the Ethiopian New Year, September
11). Over ten distinct versions of the faith exist within Jamaica, all based on the
foundations and teachings established by key leaders from the mid 1950 to the early
1990s. Brazilian theorist Paulo Freire (1970/2003) postulates a process of making
234 J.A.H. Niaah
the subjects or the oppressed populations conscious by teaching them how to

deconstruct their problems and arrive at solutions (see Freire). These early leaders
conformed to this process and have established a framework to implicitly provide
reconstructive tutelage through reasoning. Reasoning is also the space where the
Rastafari incubates its revolutionary ontology in what I would argue as the Freirian
paradigm of liberatory pedagogy. This reasoning space in the urban context is the
weed/herb/chalice camp, and its existence is based on a unique style of leadership
that combines the capacity to militantly protect the environment against attack from
law enforcement officials as well as to engender charisma, networks, and teaching
that inspire respect and loyalty in patrons and inmates. The use of the term inmate
deliberately alludes to the quasi-institutional formation, the bonds of solidarity, and
the underworld and rehabilitating function of Rastafarian camps. These places
serve as spaces of refuge and, at times, are effectively treatment centers or halfway
houses for those individuals who choose to use the spiritual and therapeutic effects
of the herb. The clients range on a spectrum from the seemingly well-socially-
adjusted casual and infrequent customer to the embedded virtual members of the
chalice reasoning circle and those who use it as a medicine for specified ailments;
cohorts that meet and socialize daily and often several times a day in lengthy
session of smoking, reasoning, and collective cooking.
The character of the chalice space is similar to a treatment center; a local
fabrication for the administration of ganja therapeutics, which was a previously
illicit and underworld activity. It provides significant social innovation that assists
in stemming the challenges of day-to-day hardship, especially for males in the
population, and further serves to create alternative economies for the informal
sector by way of the various interests and activities that converge in such spaces.
These herb camps are predominantly male yards or spaces of male communal
work and living, evolving largely through Rastafari leadership. They are also
alternative spaces for the production of masculinity of an anti-systemic nature.
The chalice commune ritual in Jamaica has endured for over 150 years as a defiant
act of unification among different social, ethnic, and religious groups.
Alternative Pedagogical Praxes: Rastafari and the Proper

Usage of Ganja
The Rastafarians of Jamaica say that: God is a Living Man, and Herbs is His Gift of Love,
the Healing of the Nation. (Yawney 1972, p.1)
Rastafari ontology and epistemology are facilitated by ritual usage of ganja. The
Rastafari have used this practice as one of its major modalities to exercise resistance
to the law of the society. Rastafari and Ganja are twin brothers, Ras. Mortimo
Planno (a teacher of the faith) would often say to emphasize the significance of this
plant, considered the Holy Herb.
Carole Yawney, a Canadian born scholar, was among the earliest anthropolo-
gists to work with Rastafari, and is the only researcher to provide any rigorous
ethnographic engagement with Rastafari on the matter of the use of the herb.
Yawney worked in West Kingston, Trench Town; in particular, within the Mortimo
Planno circles (self-acclaimed amanuensis). Yawney (1979) in Dread Wasteland
begins to provide us with some anthropological texture of what it was like in Trench
Town during the fomenting of the reggae industry in the 1970s, and the elevated
place and rituals surrounding the proper usage of the sacrament ganja: The
preparation of the herbs is a crucial act in the sense that it very much affects the
nature of the smoke and the kinds of inspiration one has. It is a highly ritualized act
(Yawney 1979, p. 165). According to the Rastas, the secret of herbs smoking is to
bless the pipe, to give Jah praises, and then you wont get mad. If youre nervous,
God wont come to you! (Yawney 1979, p. 167)
Having loosened the flow of thought, the brethren keep a watchful eye open for adventitious
truth values, for this is their way of exploring provisional responses to changing circum-
stances. Among the sources of insight tapped by reasoning can be distinguished such
processes as: paradoxical cognition, synchronicity, transpersonal psychisms and associa-
tional thought. Consistency for the brethren does not necessarily mean one-track thinking.
Rastas say that twofold cognition is commonplace, while some brethren claim to have
developed the art of three and four-track thinking. The brethren maintain that the simulta-
neous experience of multiple realities, far from impairing their grasp on reality, actually
enriches it, that it makes I conscious, man. (Yawney 1979, p. 170)
Yawney in her 1985 sequel to the piece Dont Vex Then Pray, she dissemi-
nates how it is that the modalities of Rastafari permeate across the world; recog-
nizing that there are a range of possibilities and expressions within the ranks, she
indicates that the Movement operates within frameworks of teacher and
preacher, or in the active modes of generative and iterative approaches to
proselytizing. Explicitly, Rastafari engage with the language of teacher, and there
is a commitment to the service of teaching within society and among one another, as
it is often repeated, each one teach one. Yawney further estimates that Rastafari
consciousness, understood locally to mean that segment of the population demon-
strating cosmological tendencies attributable to the awakening of the mind,
reflective of the movements activism, was somewhere close to about 200,000,
with an equal number of adherents and sympathizers, within a society with just less
than 2 million people at that time. Yawney describes rounds of chalice smoking,
throughout the day; a day that could see several dozen people passing through
Plannos Yard, representing a range of Rastafari perspectives; this is anchored by a
core set of participants that she describes as her Baptismal Group, arising from
her initiation by Planno.
Yawney explains the basic approach of Rastafari towards thinking of ganja not
as a drug, but indeed, a sacrament. She indicates that smoking the herb and focusing
the mind by engaging in reasoning is a part of training around bonds that are created
by synchronicity, or what we would otherwise call coincidences, often occurring
within chalice circles. This creates bonds of solidarity among potential devotees,
which were often referred to in Plannos circles as study partners, in which
individuals would discuss a range of matters, including the Rastafari faith and
local and international news. She explains that within such circles, and in general,
236 J.A.H. Niaah
within Rastafari, smoking itself is considered a form of prayer. Yawney further

discovered that when used in such circles by the brethren, it was intended to trigger
breakthroughs in understanding by engaging in modes of thought not normally
accessible in everyday life. For the visionary Rastafari, unlike other Caribbean
men-of-words ethos, his oratory is a sacred thing, not intended to entertain but to
elucidate. She discovered that ganja is state-specific, and that it required training to
transport ideas, inspiration, and research from that state back to her non-inspired
state. Her conclusionthat for one to access the quality of inspiration and reason-
ing within the Rastafari chalice circle, one needed to partake of the herbled to her
desire to be initiated. When she was not understanding, she was told to smoke more
herb, as it would clean out the passages between her nose, ears and brain; to know
truth, your nose must run, she was told. She took this to mean that one needed to
cough, sputter, and spit as a part of the initiation process. The brethren, she notes,
took the visitors reaction to the invitation to smoke as an important source of data
about the makeup and ultimate intentions of their guest. To this extent, the Herb and
Chalice can be used as a sieve to sift out the truth. Yawney (1972) notes:
Herb is all-pervasive: It is the substance of communion; it is a major source of income; it is
the fountain of inspiration; the symbol of brotherhood; and its exchange provides the
occasion for interaction between Rasta and non-Rasta. In short, it is the focus of diverse
energies. It represents an entire non-traditional and alternative system of power and control,
influence and prestige. When one thinks of Rasta, one thinks of ganja. (Yawney 1972,
pp. 910)
Bob Marley and the Wailers developed in a space such as Mortimo Plannos; he
managed the group early in the bands formation and is considered to be one of their
principal teachers. Outside of influencing the ideas and writing reflected in their
songs, Planno also provided tutelage in Amharic and had intimate connections with
Africa; by Yawneys assessment, he provided a veritable university in Trench
Town. Plannos brazen usage of the herb, and his fearlessness before authorities,
made him and his space in Trench Town iconic.
Polic(y)ing Ganja and the Notion of Terrorism
The police force has been in the forefront in fighting the states War on Drugs and
has developed notoriety for overreacting to poor Black citizenry generally in
pursuing the official zero tolerance policies. The following account provides an
example of a far-too-familiar Jamaican police ganja-related story.
A police team was conducting an operation in Glencoffe St. Andrew when a [R]astafarian
man uttered what police say was a derogatory remark while riding by on his bicycle. The
man was challenged by a member of the police team. An argument apparently developed
after the officer realized that the man was smoking a joint, and during the exchange, the
36-year-old man was shot and killed. Witnesses say an elderly man, a 71 year old who saw
the altercation, was shot when he raised concerns about the shooting. (Ganja deaths spark
protests 2007)
The compulsion for police overreaction to the populaces use of ganja, as in the
case above, has been facilitated by the glocal: local and global politics that seek to
stem the delivery of Jamaican ganja to consumers largely through U.S.-sponsored
eradication campaigns. The Dangerous Drugs Act in Jamaica defines ganja to
include all parts of the, cannabis sativa plant from which the resin has not been
extracted, and includes any resin obtained from that plant, but does not include
medicinal preparations made from the plant. Every person who has in his posses-
sion any ganja shall be guilty of an offense.
Ganja can be found in all 14 parishes of Jamaica; however, there has been no
recent survey to determine the acreage under cultivation. Ganja is grown in areas
generally inaccessible to vehicular traffic in the west of the island on small plots in
both rocky terrain and along the tributaries of the Black River in Saint Elizabeth. On
the island of St. Vincent, ganja is grown on mountain ranges in the north formed
from volcanic action; these areas have to be accessed by boat. Law enforcement
gathers intelligence on these sites by surveillance from the land, sea, and air. The
Jamaica Defense Force employs teams of civilian cutters who, escorted by the
military or police, cut growing plants. They also seize seedlings and cured mari-
juana and burn them in the fields. Jamaican law prohibits the use of herbicides, and
only manual eradication is conducted.
By virtue of the explicit sacralization of the plant, the Movement became the key
target for police harassment, resulting from the perceptions that all Rastafari could
be found to be in possession of ganja at any arbitrary time. Arresting the Rastafari
for ganja was perceived as effectively arresting the spread of the Rastafari mania.
By the dawn of the 1960s, the society had a fully developed criminal drama in
which the Rastafari antihero was seen as a deranged, sexual predator, prowling
upon the establishment to rob and murder. During the 1950s, the illustration of the
dreadlock Rastafari was often used in training law officers for target practice on the
gun ranges; the idea being that the Rastafari was the best representation of the threat
to the state and the citizenry.
Gross intolerance has been reflected in the approach for implementing ganja
monitoring. The Jamaican police have been branded as operating a death squad
trained to pursue extrajudicial strategies in fight the War on Drugs, especially in
relation to the poor. Law enforcement officers are often unapologetic in defending
themselves against gangsters and are usually unpunished, as in a most blatant case
where, just before dawn, police officers approached a small house in Braeton, St
Catherine in Jamaica. A short time later, seven youths aged 1520 had been shot
dead. Their deaths were a continuation in the long line of extrajudicial killings of
criminal suspects by Jamaican security forces. In a statement made immediately
after the shooting of the Braeton Seven, a senior police officer alleged that they had
been responsible for murders. Pro-ganja legalization advocates and attorney-at-law,
Miguel Lorne argues:
Many Rastafarians have been killed, in fact, the whole ganja issue has brought into focus
that hostility between Rastas and the police, not just in Jamaica but in several other parts of
the world. . . He called, therefore, for a change in the mindset of Jamaicans saying, Its
integral that the perception is changed. . .. A lot of our young men are just scraped off the
238 J.A.H. Niaah
corners and continue to face unfair treatment because once you use the substance, it is
believed you are the same one who fire the guns and we are here advocating for a change.
(Lorne 2013)
The tightening of ganja legislation has been arguably linked to periods of

political challenge and unrest emerging from among the African elements in the
society, and has been supported by political opponents in their consensus surround-
ing the need for population control. As police intolerance continues, even into the
pro-legalization environment, the constant infringement of civil and human rights
in relation to the polices approach to the herb have resulted in the need for a new
regime.
As early as 1977, the Jamaican Government set up a Joint Select Committee to
consider the criminality, legislation, uses, abuses, and possible medicinal properties
of ganja, and to make appropriate recommendations. While rejecting legalization,
the Committee, on account of Jamaicas obligation to the 1961 Convention, unan-
imously concluded that there was, however, a significant case for decriminalizing
the personal use of ganja. It recommended specific amendment of the law, and that
there should be no punishment prescribed for the personal use of ganja up to a
quantity of 2 oz by persons on private premises. It further recommended that ganja
be lawfully prescribed for medicinal use. This proposalclearly way too early
within the global politics of ganjawas shelved and only resurrected almost
3 decades later. Some of the then-global challenges resulted from the reality of
international pressure coming from the United States that peaked in the mid-1980s
with the advent of increased U.S. territorial security breaches by drug cartels
organized around the ganja trade out of Jamaica.
By the early and mid-1980s, the phenomenon of Jamaican posses, an interna-
tionally networked underworld cartel, had been established in various metropolises
in the U.S., Canada, and the United Kingdom with deep linkages to Latin America,
this generated its own pressure on Jamaica generally and on Rastafari specifically.
Media accounts of the posse reported the Rastafari as members of Jamaican posses
in the U.S. or drew a derivative relationship between the Rastafari and members of
posses, i.e., that posse members were recruited from the Rastafari community.2
These misrepresentations were the basis for something called Operation Caribbean
Cruise in Washington, DC in 1986the largest police raid in the history of the city
that targeted Jamaican and Rastafari homes. It was in the aftermath of this raid that
ventures emerged between Rastafari activists and U.S. collaborators to educate the
public about their identity and their culture3 Sourced through personal communi-
cation with John Homiak (December 2014 at the Smithsonian).
2
This type of portrayal is highlighted in Marked for Death, a 1990 Steven Segal action film by
Dwight Little.
3
Homiak and the Smithsonian became involved in assisting delegations of Rastafari elders to
travel to the U.S.; but, even prior to this, Yawney had been on a similar mission in Canada since the
early 1980s.
This period ended with the 1988 Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic
Drugs and Psychotropic Substances, to which Jamaica was a signatory. The com-
plicity within this new framework meant a crackdown on Jamaican gang activity in
the U.S. and a backlash at home among law enforcement forces, with a massive
campaign waged against the cultural use and cultivation of ganja. The police used
the herb as a decoy to engage Rastafari and working class youths and made arrests
in the face of public outrage and Rastafari advocacy for decriminalization. As
attempts to stem the trade of ganja from Jamaica mounted during the 1970s,
increased transshipment of cocaine through Jamaican waters and ports of entry
helped substitute some of the lost income.
It wasnt until the dawn of the new millennium that the debate again received
any serious reengagement. In 2000, the Jamaican Cabinet set up the National
Commission on Ganja, which was chaired by the late professor Barry Chevannes.
That report was submitted in 2001. The report recommended, among other things:
decriminalizing the use of ganja in small quantities by adults and also its use as a
religious sacrament; a national education program aimed at reducing the number of
young people who use ganja; intensification of interdiction of large scale cultivation
of ganja and the trafficking of all illegal drugs; the establishment of a regional
Cannabis Research Agency; and that the government will ensure international
support for these actions. The Commission was persuaded that the criminalization
of thousands of people for possession or consumption does more harm to society
than could be done by the use of ganja itself; diverting the justice system from more
primary goals; namely, the suppression of the criminal trafficking in substances,
such as crack cocaine, that were ravaging urban and rural communities with
addiction (Chevannes and National Commission on Ganja. 2001).
Jamaican ganja policing has been accused of more than merely corrupting the
population through their enforcement measures; they have, at times, gone much too
far in their reaction to the possession of the weed. This was made clear in August
2014, when a youth arrested for possession of a ganja spliff was pronounced dead
days later while in police custody after allegedly falling off his bed. In response to
extreme media and public outrage, a directive from the Government Minister to the
Police High Command was issued, saying that there needed to be an immediate and
comprehensive review of all the procedures and arrangements governing deten-
tions. Discussions among the relevant departments determined that the Jamaica
Constabulary Force should apply new guidelines to persons charged with minor
offenses, such as possession of small quantities of ganja, and these persons should
be only remanded to police custody in exceptional cases (e.g., if the offender is
being investigated for other serious offenses), otherwise a summons should be
served and the matter be directed to the office of the Justice of the Peace.
The above case, which prompted the need for a more civil approach, was that
surrounding Mario Deane, a 31-year-old male on his way to work early one
morning. He encountered the police, who demanded to search his pants pockets
because he had a suspicious bulge. This protrusion turned out not to be a gun, but
his two cellphones. Subsequently, a spliff tail was found on his person, and, when
asked by the lawman if he knew what it was, he remarked that it was just a little
240 J.A.H. Niaah
weed. He was apprehended and taken to the police station. There, he was charged
and then denied immediate bail, which was his constitutional right. He allegedly
remarked, Thats why me no like police: words that were to cost him his life. He
was found later dead in his cell, having been severely beaten.
Attorney-at-law Miguel Lorne argues that ganja is one of the main obstacles
preventing citizens from trusting the police and cooperating with them. It is a
situation of the peoples culture versus the establishment. Criminalizing ganja
possession is perceived as anathema and tantamount to criminalizing an embedded
culture; persons have thus long flouted the laws to advocate for the Jamaican
Government to decriminalize cannabis (Ganja deaths spark protests 2007).
Decriminalization and Legalization: The Current Ganja

Debate (20112015)
Latterly, the official Jamaican state has positioned itself to capitalize on the
medicinal byproducts from ganja and the scientific and industrial potential of
hemp plant generally. Medical research on ganja is not new to Jamaica; there is
the pioneering work of Manley West and Albert Lockhart (Lockhart and West
1978) from the 1970s in the development of Canasol, a derivative of ganja,
considered one of the best treatments for glaucoma. Their research was facilitated
by informal and ad hoc arrangements with Jamaican law enforcement to supply the
raw material (ganja) salvaged from raids prior to destruction. Such informal and ad
hoc arrangements continue to be facilitated, but they do not provide a sound basis
for research on which an economically viable, regulated industry can develop.
Chevannes (2001) sought to advance the idea that Jamaica is well positioned to
be a front-runner in conducting research for the development of new medicines and
therapies derived from ganja and hemp. His conclusion was obvious, and had been
advocated by Rastafari such as Peter Tosh who, in 1976, dedicated his debut solo
album to supporting legalizing ganja. Jamaicas future advancement could be tied
to the production of the herb; however, the full potential of the industry cannot be
realized under the law as it stands.
The new Jamaican policy regime is seeking to capitalize on the global sway
towards ganja-entrepreneurship, impelled by great fiscal constrains and export
deficits that have the island under strict International Monetary Fund monitoring
and control. This has prompted a new scramble for yet another cash crop, an
agricultural gem to replace the long-ailing sugar fields. At the same, time this
new policy environment has sparked concerns that the future market may prefer-
ence large foreign investors over the original criminalized local small farmers. This
has caused the mobilization of various caucuses of interests, such as Rastafari
advocates, small farmers and traders, and independent business interests, to estab-
lish various networks in anticipation of legalization. The most prominent associa-
tion, The Ganja Future Growers and Producers Association, established in April of
2014, has united the disparate interests of the politicians and farmers, Rastafari and
business interests. Conversations are now advancing between officials of the
Jamaican government and international stakeholders, mainly from the United States
and Canada, to examine the issues of medicinal ganja and industrial hemp. These
talks have resulted in a Cabinet Submission of proposals for an amendment to the
Dangerous Drugs Act to provide the legislative framework for granting licenses to
permit the development of a lawful industry for medicinal ganja and industrial
hemp in Jamaica, in a manner that is permitted under Jamaicas international
obligations.
The new drug policy which came into effect on April 15, 2015, allows for:
possession of two (2) ounces (0.057 kg) or less of ganja as a non-arrestable
infraction not resulting in a criminal record; the possession and use of ganja for
religious purposes; and use of ganja for therapeutic purposes as prescribed by a
medical practitioner, and for purposes of approved scientific research conducted by
accredited tertiary institutions. The framework allows for each household to legally
grow up to five ganja plants on its premises. The major innovation of this policy is
its acknowledgement of the rights to use ganja as a sacrament for religious purposes
and permitting smoking in spaces designated for Rastafari worship. Further, the
legislation allows Rastafari over the age of 18 years to apply for authorization to
cultivate ganja for religious purpose, but cautions that such herb may not be sold or
smoked in non-Rastafari designated spaces. Besides the accredited tertiary institu-
tions approved to cultivate ganja to further scientific research, the Rastafari are the
only other named entity with authority (upon application) to grow (see Ministry of
Justice Jamaica 2015). In keeping with the recommendations of the Ganja Com-
mission, The University of the West Indies established the Cannabis/Ganja
Research Centre in 2014. After enactment of the legislation, the institution was
issued the first license to grow the herb legally, symbolically marking the devel-
opment by planting a tree on April 20, 2015, celebrating it as the first legal ganja
tree in Jamaica.
Needless to say, the direction of the new legislation was heavily influenced by
years of Rastafari campaigning and inputs into the deliberation to draft the new policy.
The new Act is intended to appease, somewhat, the Rastafari community for the
earlier abusive treatment that was a consequence of the Movements defiance of the
official position on the herb as dangerous and illegal. But, there are some
Rastafari who are of the opinion that the legislation has not gone far enough; they
consider that the relationship between Rastafari and ganja is that of a custodian; thus,
any related enterprise (scientific, commercial or therapeutic) should have Rastafari at
the center of such decisions, slated to benefit from business arrangements.
Conclusions
Whereas Jamaicans, particularly Rastafari, have been among the leading voices on
the world platform advocating for the need to legalize the herb, the Jamaican state
officials have pussyfooted with engaging the legislative framework. There has been
242 J.A.H. Niaah
a lack of courage and genuine volition to lead within official circles. A combination
of conservative Judeo-Christian values, along with the politics of being in the
so-called backyard of the United States, has developed to complement and
contain political will. Out of now-desperate imperatives for economic alternatives
since the start of the new millennium, the Jamaican government has sought to
capitalize on international currents, emerging from the revisionist position adopted
by the United States towards ganja, and has initiated a drive to decriminalize the
herb. This government action has seemed tentative, perhaps informed by pressures
emerging from the United States, in particular, to honor international agreements
that seek to stem the flow of the Jamaican-branded cannabisa premium label
internationallyonto their shores. There has thus been an approach and agenda of
fright and terror inflicted from the dominant colonial and neo-colonial states to
classify ganja as a dangerous drug for which a protracted war has been staged for
more than a century. Jamaica security forces, established as colonial outposts to
protect the interests of the sovereign and her rulers over the majority Africans under
their control, became the frontline and the vanguard for the exercise of hegemonic
rule over the people; the policing of ganja is a key justification for many to be
harassed by police. For millions of ordinary folks who seek catharsis as well as
spiritual and therapeutic benefits from the use of the substance, and in particular, for
the Rastafari, who are some of the key defenders of the plants pharmacological
importance and right to be free, it has meant cultural suppression and daily lives on
the edge of terror.
With the emerging international climate surrounding the herb, and particularly
its medical potential, there appears to be a new scramble for economic control of
this plant by those who have fought its legalization to bring its copious financial
potential into their coffers, and to prohibit the defenders of the herb from having a
market share. A fresh conversation is now emerging about the best way to control
the novel climate where ganja has become seemingly more valuable than gold. The
Rastafari assert that ganja is InI (we or our) natural plant, a grass for medicine;
the new regime is suggesting that ganja has to be processed first by scientists, taking
it out of the family of naturally available herbs; to this extent, there is still resistance
and advocacy against these prisms as the healing of the nation is still seen to be
under state terror.
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Chapter 14
From Drug War to Policy Reform:
Implications of US Drug Strategy for
Latin America
Steve Rolles
Introduction
Drug policy in Latin America has been profoundly influenced by the US; but the
nature of that influence is changing. The US, lead architect of the War on Drugs, has
seen recent domestic and geopolitical shifts that have profoundly changed its status,
increasingly disengaging from the role as global drug war enforcer, and to
some extent, becoming a key player in the reform discourse, albeit reluctantly.
This chapter explores these various developments in the US, and how emerging
reforms to the South have both influenced and are being influenced by them. First, a
broader historical analysis is considered, and then the focus turns to recent ground-
breaking policy evolution and high-level UN debate regarding cannabis and coca.
Background: The US as Drug War Hegemon
Looking back over the last century, it is clear that the US has dominated in the
evolution of international drug control policy, using its status as economic, poli-
tical, and militarily hegemon to impose its chosen policy model on the rest of the
world. The US has been the primary architect of the prohibitionist international
drug control regime, its most forceful champion, and indeed, its main enforcer. This
international legal frameworkformalized under the three UN drug conventions
(1961, 1971, and 1988)recently past the half century milestone, an anniversary
that provoked somewhat muted celebrations at UN drug agency gatherings, but
reflection and increasingly intense debate elsewhere.
S. Rolles (*)
Transform Drug Policy Foundation, 9-10 King Street, Bristol BS1 4EQ, UK
e-mail: steve@tdpf.org.uk

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9_14
246 S. Rolles
Nowhere has this debate been more pronounced than in Latin America, the
region that has arguably carried a greater burden of the costs of the international
drug control systems failure than any other. In mapping out the dynamics of the
rapidly evolving drug policy landscape in the Americas, it is important to ask both
why the debate on reform in Latin America has taken so long to come alive, and
why it is happening now; specifically, what are the internal and external dynamics
pushing the emerging reform consensus in Latin America.
Since the inception of the War on Drugs, whether we consider the launch point to
be the early prohibitionist treaties from more than a century ago, their formalization
into a global prohibitionist infrastructure under the 1961 UN single convention on
drugs, or Nixons launching of a War on Drugs in 1971, the drug policy debate
has historically been driven more by populist politics, geopolitical pressures, and
sensationalist media headlines than by rational analysis. Despite progress that has
been made in recent years, this undoubtedly remains the case in much of the
Americas and across the globe.
Rather than being treated as a health or social issue, drug use is all too often still
presented as an imminent threat to our children, national security, and the moral
fabric of society itself. The current criminalization-led prohibition model is then
positioned and implemented as an emergency response to this threat, often using
populist political rhetoric such as crackdowns on crime, corruption, and terrorism
(Kushlick 2011).
A self-justifying circular logic is then used to support this threat-based approach,
in which the policy-related harms that result from prohibition (such as drug related
organized crime or deaths from contaminated street drugs) are conflated with the
harms of drug use (dependence, overdose etc.), to bolster the apparent drug
menace. The UN-level discourse referring simply to the need to address the
world drug problem, with no effort to disentangle drug use harms from drug
policy-related harms, is an obvious example of this dangerous oversimplification.
This narrative conflation of harms is then used to justify the continuation, or
intensification, of the drug war that caused many of the harms in the first place.
This, in turn, has helped create a high-level policy environment that routinely
ignores or actively suppresses critical scientific engagement, particularly on alter-
native approaches, and is divorced from most public health and social policy norms,
such as evaluation of policy using public health and human rights indicators
(Rolles 2010).
However, this misrepresentation of the drug problem, and refusal to assess the
outcomes of drug policy, also results from a number of broader political dynamics.
Many politicians and entire political groupings have made a huge long-term
political investment in fighting drugs because they are dangerous, in order to
gain politically from taking a muscular approach that impresses key segments of
the electorate, or out of fear of being accused of being weak or soft on drugs.
Similarly, there has been a huge financial investment by both the public and private
sectors in the apparatus and enforcement infrastructure for dealing with the drug
problem in every country. Vast resources have been directed into increasing
militarization drug enforcement. So, reform threatens to disrupt the funding and
14 From Drug War to Policy Reform: Implications of US Drug Strategy for Latin. . . 247
power of numerous groups, from the army and police to the companies that build
prisons and enforcement equipment and technology, all of whom wield significant
political influence (Rolles et al. 2013).
As a result, governments priorities have often become perverse, and unrelated
to those of the citizens they serve. Any failings of this punitive paradigm are often
not the primary concern, if that failure is not undermining other purely political or
strategic goals. Unsurprisingly, the last thing prohibitionist politicians want is an
evidence-based examination of the current system that might expose the perverse
priorities. Such problems with the raw politics of prohibition are then often
compounded by a misunderstanding or ignorance about the alternatives amongst
policymakers, the public, and media. While reducing or eliminating criminal
penalties for minor possession offenses has a long history in the USA for cannabis
(Oregon in 1973 being the first of now 17 states to do so), and in Latin America, for
all drugs, until relatively recently (Rolles 2009; Health Officers Council of British
Colombia 2005; King County Bar Association 2005; Global Commission on Drugs
2014), there was no clearly expressed vision of what a post-prohibition world would
look like, particularly regarding legal regulation of drug markets and the benefits
they could bring. Without a credible plan for how a post-drug war world could
function, the debate has tended to stall, unable to move beyond some level of
agreement that there is a problem with the status quo.
Equally importantly, in many countries there is a widely held view that using
illegal drugs is intrinsically immoral, particularly in regions where organized
religion dominates public and political discourse, tending to shape the discourse
on drugs in terms of stark binary moral choices. People who use drugs, and
particularly drug dealers, are dirty or evil, while temperance or abstinence
are, by contrast, good and pure. This prohibitionist narrative has largely swept
away, at least at a political level, more nuanced understanding or analysis of the
spectrum of drug-using behaviors and attendant costs and benefits, as well as any
exploration of traditional or ritualized drug use of indigenous cultures in the
Americas. As a result, arguments about the effectiveness of policy, as normally
understood for other policy areas, have not had much traction and evidence-based
pragmatism has generally deferred to moral grandstanding and knee-jerk populism.
We must also put these various threads into a global context. The US, in
particular, has expended huge diplomatic, military, and economic capital to lock
in prohibition; in part, to enable it to use the drug war as a tool to deliver wider
foreign policy goals, culminating in it becoming an excuse and rationale for direct
or indirect military intervention in many other countries; most obviously, in Central
and South America, but also notably in Afghanistan and elsewhere Central and
Southeast Asia.
248 S. Rolles
The UN Global Drug Prohibition Regime
The overarching global drug prohibition regime under the UN treaty frame-
workof which the US was the key architectprovides the final part of the jigsaw,
ensuring that the punitive enforcement approach has become entrenched, institu-
tionalized, and largely immune from meaningful scrutiny. In 2008, the UN Office
on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) clearly acknowledged that the current system of
global drug control is having a range of serious negative unintended conse-
quences (UNDOC 2008). These, listed in the agencys flagship World Drug
Report, included: the creation of a huge criminal market; the displacement of
production and transit to new areas; the balloon effect, whereby enforcement
simply displaces illicit activity from one region to another, rather than eradicating
it; the diversion of resources from health to enforcement; the displacement of use to
new drugs; and, the stigmatization and marginalization of people who use drugs.
Yet, despite acknowledging these problems, neither the UN drug agencies nor
UN member states have sought to discover if the intended consequences of the
current regime outweigh the unintended consequences, as listed by the UNODC.
These negative impacts are not systematically assessed or detailed in the UNODCs
annual World Drug Report, a publication based primarily on self-reporting from
member states. Despite some recent improvements, the questionnaires that member
states are required to submit to the UNODC still do not include questions on many
key policy impacts; for example, on human rights compliance, development and
conflict issues, stigma and discrimination, or environmental impacts, and govern-
ment self-reporting responses are acknowledged, even by the UNODC, to be both
incomplete and biased. These shortcomings reflect the problems implicit in self-
reporting on a system by those who oversee, enforce, and champion it. The result is
that less than half the story is being told, with the responsibility for attempting to fill
in the gaps falling to groups of informal civil society coalitions, such as the Count
the Costs initiative (Count the Costs 2012).
The result of this poor scrutiny, combined with the polarized moral positioning
that infuses so much political drug discourse, is that the drug war is often perceived
to be an immutable part of the political landscape rather than just one option from
among a spectrum of possible legal and policy frameworks, examples of which
already exist for a range other risky activities and substances.
Cannabis
The historic role of the US as the primary architect and cheerleader for the global
drug prohibition regime is central to understanding the systems evolution and
current dynamics across the region. This process can perhaps best be explored by
looking at how cannabis came to be included in the international drug control
system; not least, because it remains by far the most widely used illicit drug, and it
is the cannabis issue that is at the vanguard of much of the reform debate today.
A starting point is to acknowledge that, at the turn of the last century, patterns of
cannabis use bore little resemblance to the global ubiquity of the drug today, and
correspondingly, knowledge about and concern with cannabis as a policy issue was
highly localized. More pressing issues about how to address emerging markets in
opiate and cocaine-based products dominated international debate (soon to be
formalized within the League of Nations, the forerunner to the United Nations).
Cannabis was only drawn into these discussions at the 1912 Hague International
Opium Convention due to pressure from a small number of countries with concerns
relating to North African cannabis markets, chief among them being Egypt, and
then at the second International Opium Convention in Geneva in 1924 at the
urgings of South Africa (Bewley-Taylor et al. 2014).
For the US, however, cannabis had increasingly become an issue during the
1920s, closely associated with hostile attitudes to Mexican immigrant labor and
their use of marijuana; an association that has led to some suggestions that the
term marijuana has racist connotations and should be avoided. This simmering
xenophobia, combined with the prohibitionist and temperance sentiments of the
time, fueled pressure for moves towards first US state-level, then federal and,
ultimately, international prohibitions in 1937 and 1961, respectively.
Indeed, it was in the mid-1930s that the political destiny of international
cannabis controls was effectively guaranteed, when the US fully entered the fray,
decisively wielding its global superpower might to ensure its desired prohibitionist
outcome. The political approach adopted by the central figure of Harry J. Anslinger,
who headed the newly founded Federal Bureau of Narcotics from 1930 until 1962,
is reflected in the language he often publicly adopted. In testimony to the House of
Representatives in 1937, he stated that:
Most marijuana smokers are Negroes, Hispanics, jazz musicians and entertainers. Their
satanic music is driven by marijuana, and marijuana smoking by white women makes them
want to seek sexual relations with Negroes, entertainers and others. It is a drug that causes
insanity, criminality, and deaththe most violence-causing drug in the history of mankind.
(Gerber 2004, p. 9)
After World War II, the US, under Anslingers guidance, consolidated its
hegemonic grip on the emerging international drug control framework under the
new United Nations, and, during the 1950s, a new single convention to consol-
idate the now-numerous international drug control agreements began to take shape.
These dynamics were strongly shaped by the hyperbolic narratives of cannabis role
in fueling crime, violence, and insanity and infused with racial prejudice signifi-
cantly aimed at Mexicans; they were promoted by Anslinger and key allies,
including the influential Secretary of the World Health Organization Expert Com-
mittee on Drugs Liable to Produce Addiction, Pablo Osvaldo Wolff. Cannabis,
according to one Wolff pamphlet, changes thousands of persons into nothing more
than human scum, hence: this vice should be suppressed at any cost. Cannabis
250 S. Rolles
was labeled weed of the brutal crime and of the burning hell, and an extermi-
nating demon which is now attacking our country(Goode 1970, p. 230).
Other voices challenging some of this anti-cannabis rhetoric did emerge; nota-
bly, the La Guardia report of 1944, to which, in fact, the Wolff pamphlet quoted
above was a response. The Mayor of New York, Fiorello La Guardia, commis-
sioned this report to provide an impartial scientific review of the citys cannabis use,
particularly among its Black and Hispanic populations. It was the result of 5 years
study by an interdisciplinary committee comprised of physicians, sociologists,
psychiatrists, pharmacists and city health officials. It challenged many of the
prevailing narratives around cannabis and addiction, crime and violence stating
that: There [is] no direct relationship between the commission of crimes of
violence and marihuana. . . marihuana itself has no specific stimulant effect in
regards to sexual desires, and that: The use of marihuana does not lead to
morphine or cocaine or heroin addiction (LaGuardia 1944, The Mental Attitude
of the Marihuana Smoker Toward Society and Marihuana section).
Unfortunately, setting a precedent for the drug policy discourse that was to
unfold over the ensuing decades, the science and pragmatism of voices such as
the La Guardia report, and the even earlier 1893 Indian Hemp Commission, built on
more objective evidence-based analysis, was progressively overwhelmed and mar-
ginalized by the political ideologies and agendas of the US and others. Ultimately,
this led to the prohibitionist-oriented state grouping, led by the US, winning the
inclusion of cannabis alongside heroin and cocaine in the 1961 UN Single Con-
vention. Cannabis was deemed to have no medical value; placed in the strictest
schedule IV, which requires signatories to prohibit the production, manufacture,
export and import of, trade in, possession of or use of any such drug except for
amounts which may be necessary for medical or scientific research only.
While there had been some early attempts to prohibit cannabis, for example, in
Mexico and Brazil, driven by local concerns and largely unrelated to wider inter-
national moves, an important observation in this process is that the majority of
signatories to this convention knew little of cannabis use or policy during the
decades when the prohibitionist framework was formulated; states either accepted
the narrative supplied by those pushing for an absolute ban, or, in the case of most
Latin governments, declined to spend political capital pushing back against this
outcome on an issue that was, at that time, a marginal concern at most. There was
some limited dissent (notably from India regarding lower potency bhang canna-
bis preparations), but it only served as a minor moderating influence on some
details. It is also important to remember that the political dynamics that resulted
in a total global prohibition on cannabis, and indeed other drugs outlawed with it,
were not only playing out almost entirely behind closed doors, but also in a period
of timebetween 50 and 100 years agoin which the social, political and cultural
landscape bore almost no resemblance to the world we live in today. To put this into
perspective, cannabis use has increased dramatically since this timethe UNODC
estimates, probably conservatively, that as many as 180 million people use it
worldwideincluding in many parts of the world where little or no cannabis use
existed in 1961.
Coca
The story of Bolivias recent denunciation of and re-accession to the 1961 treaty
with a reservation focusing on the traditional use of coca leaf provides an
interesting parallel perspective to the historic developments regarding cannabis,
and the role of the US. Both contemporary international law and Bolivias consti-
tution had clearly produced a conflict with the provision in question on the issue of
indigenous peoples rights and free prior and informed consent. The traditional use
of coca in the Andean region (as a medicine, mild stimulant, and source of
nutrition) is obviously well known and well established among indigenous groups.
The 1961 UN Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs provided a 25-year grace
period for coca chewing to continue, which has now long expired. As a result,
traditional uses of coca are not permitted in international law; something the INCB
has in fact gone out of its way to reiterate in recent years. Yet this decision,
effectively criminalizing an entire indigenous cultural/ethnic grouping, was based
on treaty negotiations that entirely excluded the affected indigenous population.
Compare this with the view of the UN Special Rapporteur on the rights of
indigenous people that: It has become a generally accepted principle in inter-
national law that indigenous peoples should be consulted as to any decision
affecting them.
The now universally adopted Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
recognizes this right too, as well as the right of indigenous peoples to Practice and
revitalize their cultural traditions and customs, and to the use and control of their
ceremonial heritage, traditional knowledge and traditional cultural expressions, as
well as the manifestations of their sciences, technologies and cultures, including
human and genetic resources, seeds, medicines, knowledge of the properties of
fauna and flora (United Nations 2008). The UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous
Issues (UNPFII) has recently supported the call for the removal of traditional uses
of coca from the scope of international drug control (Count the Costs 2012).
Yet, despite Bolivias obvious historical injustice and strong legal and moral
case for it to be revisited, the US, from the outset, set itself against any change.
Before commencing the denunciation/re-accession with reservation process,
Bolivia had attempted to amend the relevant treaty articles to have traditional use
of coca leaf removed through the established mechanisms. The US not only
objected to the amendmentin doing so effectively derailing itbut it set about
building a coalition of countries to support the objection. This objection was not
overtly rejecting the Bolivian case to respect their indigenous cultural heritage, but
rather on the basis of protecting the integrity of the treaties. The US further rallied
this integrity group to reject the re-accession and reservation, but failed to get the
requisite number of state backers to succeed on this occasion, allowing Bolivia to
proceed with what can be seen as the first hard defection from the treaty system in
its more than 50 year life span.
252 S. Rolles
Global Shifts Influencing the Reform Debate
Having considered the role of the US in imposing its vision of drug control onto
Latin America, the question can be asked: what are the factors that are now
breaking open the debate on domestic and international reform in Latin America
and beyond? There are certainly a number of wider geopolitical shifts that have
strengthened the hand of Latin leaders interested in drug policy and law reform.
Many Latin economies have grown while the US economy has faltered, progres-
sively shifting the balance of economic power between the North and South, and
eroding the hegemonic power of the US in the hemisphere. At the same time,
a number of leftist governments have been elected that share a common narrative
of growing intolerance to what they see as the US political interference and
imperialism of previous decades, and have become increasingly emboldened in
resisting US pressure.
These processes provide the backdrop to the more specific and localized con-
cerns that are driving the reform agenda. Key among these is certainly the growing
intolerance for the increasingly visible failure of the current enforcement-led
approach. Probably the single biggest driver of reform is the crisis in Latin America
where attempts to reduce the drug menace in the West have instead created, by
far, the greatest security threat in Latin America; the cartels or organized crime
groups involved in the drug trade, and the corruption, violence, and instability that
accompanies them.
As both a primary production and transit region, Latin America is carrying a
huge burden, resulting not only from consumption, predominantly in the US and
Europe (albeit increasing regionally as well), but also from drug war enforcement
responses and legal frameworks that have been devised and implemented largely at
the behest of the US and Europeans. From the deadly escalation of violence in
Mexico to the environmental and social impact of crop eradication in Colombia,
and spread of conflict and corruption in Central America, as can be seen in many
chapters of this book, prohibitions unintended negative consequences are
undermining fragile democratic institutions across the region. In some regions,
drug cartels have become a genuine threat to the state itself, with seven of the
worlds eight most violent countries lying on the cocaine trafficking routes from the
Andes to the US.
For some states, a watershed has evidently been passed in the public discourse
whereby whatever the concerns may be about drugs themselves, these are now
eclipsed by concerns about the impacts of increasingly militarized drug enforce-
ment and crime related to the illicit trade. A critical factor has been the evolution in
public understanding of what is driving these problems they are witnessing; essen-
tially, the analysis outlined earlier in the chapter; that drugs themselves do not
generate violence and instability, but instead, it is the burgeoning illicit drug
markets in the context of an endless War on Drugs. Credit for this growing
understanding falls to a broad array of domestic and international media opinion
formers, public figures, and civil society groups. While the list is a long one, it is
worth flagging up a few key moments in the recent past that have helped accelerate
this evolutionary process. A series of high-profile reports have certainly been a key
factor in the public debate. In 2009, The Latin American Commission on Drugs and
Democracy saw a group of prominent Latin politicians, intellectuals, and other
public figures offer a strong critique of the drug wars failings:
Violence and the organized crime associated with the narcotics trade are critical problems
in Latin America today. Confronted with a situation that is growing worse by the day, it is
imperative to rectify the war on drugs strategy pursued in the region over the past
30 years. Prohibitionist policies based on the eradication of production and on the disrup-
tion of drug flows as well as on the criminalization of consumption have not yielded the
expected results. We are farther than ever from the announced goal of eradicating drugs.
(Latin American Commission on Drugs and Democracy 2009, p. 5)
The core of this group then evolved into the Global Commission on Drug Policy;
the new Commission expanding its remit and membership globally, now including
eight former heads of state; luminaries from the UN, most notably, the former
General Secretary Kofi Annan; and prominent US figures, including George Shultz,
former US Secretary of State, and Paul Volcker, former Chairman of the US Federal
Reserve. The new Commissions 2011 report War on Drugs had a dramatically
greater impact than its predecessor. This was partly because of the increased global
star-power of its commissioners, but significantly because it went beyond the Latin
Commissions recommendations, making more overt and politically radical calls.
Not only did it make a clear call to End the criminalization, marginalization, and
stigmatization of people who use drugs but who do no harm to others, but it went
further, giving backing for legalization as well, calling on Governments to
Encourage experimentation by governments with models of legal regulation of drugs to
undermine the power of organized crime and safeguard the health and security of their
citizens. This recommendation applies especially to cannabis, but we also encourage other
experiments in decriminalization and legal regulation that can accomplish these objectives
and provide models for others. (Global Commission on Drug Policy 2011, p. 2)
While the contents of the report were nothing new for the drug law reform
movement (key members of whom provided the technical support in the drafting), it
was the first time such calls had been so clearly stated by such an illustrious group.
The media impact was huge, making front-page headlines across Latin America,
the US, and the wider world. Another report from the Commission in 2014
developed the themes of the 2011 report still further, specifically filling out the
detail on what post-prohibition regulated markets could look like, and the reforms
to the global legal framework needed to facilitate them (Global Commission on
Drug Policy 2014).
Perhaps the most significant achievement of these reports has been to both frame
and normalize the reform discourse within the high-level political arena. They have
emboldened reform-minded leaders in North and South America and have helped
created political space in which the first truly meaningful high-level debates on
wider system reforms have taken place.
Two other key events in this recent period stand out. Among the Latin leaders
who have started to actively push a drug law reform agenda, President Santos of
254 S. Rolles
Colombia has perhaps been the most outspoken. He led a group of three Latin heads
of state, also including President Molina of Guatemala and President Calderon of
Mexico, to make a joint statement to the UN General Assembly that echoed the
Latin and Global Commission critiques, and included a call for the UN to analyze
all available options, including regulatory or market measures, in order to establish
a new paradigm that prevents the flow of resources to organized crime organi-
zations. This call led to the convening of a UN General Assembly Special Session
on drugs in 2016, moved forward from 2019, with a specific remit from the General
Secretary to use these opportunities to conduct a wide-ranging and open debate
that considers all options; a moment in the evolution of the global drug control
framework of potentially huge significance; the first time the General Assembly
will meet with a specific drug policy reform agenda.
The second event was the launch of a major program of work looking at drug
policy reform under the auspices of the Organization of American States. Again,
this was initiated by President Santos and supported by the same grouping of Latin
leaders, but crucially, heads of state from across the hemisphere endorsed the work,
including the US. The reports that emerged from this process (Organization of
American States 2013), included not only a detailed critique of the War on Drugs
and considered review of alternative approaches, but a groundbreaking expert
scenario planning exercise in the form of four scenarios of how drug policy and
law could develop between now and 2025. These scenarios significantly included
one, the Pathways scenario, that described the emergence of legally regulated
markets for some currently prohibited drugs, and explored how the international
drug control system would evolve to incorporate these developments. This was the
first time a major multilateral entity, certainly one including the US, had engaged in
this debate, let alone come to broadly positive conclusions about the reform agenda.
There is a clear relationship between these breakthroughs in the debate on the
international stage and developments in the US position, both in terms of the
erosion of US prohibitionist authority in the international debate, and its strategic
retreat from more hawkish drug war rhetoric. Clearly this relationship works both
ways and has been mutually supportive: change in the US has been accelerated by
debate and reforms globally, particularly in Latin America, at the same time as
changes in the US have created space for the Latin debate to blossom.
Domestic Reforms in the US and Their International Impact
The domestic activist-driven reform movement in the US has undoubtedly been an

enormously significant factor in these developments; arguably, more so than par-
allel activist movements in Latin America. There is a growing and vibrant activist-
led public debate on drug law reform within the US itself, fueling, and fueled by,
substantial on-going reforms, particularly around cannabis. Success has bred suc-
cess. At time of writing, 22 US states had decriminalized cannabis possession for
personal use, a similar number have legal medical cannabis provision, while four
(Washington, Colorado, Oregon, and Alaska) have voted by popular ballots for
legislation to legalize and regulate non-medical cannabis production and supply,
and at least five more have pending state government legislation or ballot initiatives
to similarly legalize non-medical cannabis markets. If anything, it could be argued,
somewhat ironically perhaps, that the US, the spiritual home of the War on Drugs,
has become a reluctant and unlikely global pioneer for drug policy reform, at least
regarding cannabis. This emerging reality is bolstered by the fact that polling
consistently now shows a majority of the US now backs cannabis legalization.
The political potency of tough drug war rhetoric has also clearly diminished
domestically in the US, even if the drivers of the parallel dynamic in Latin America
are somewhat different. If the key factor in Latin America has been security issues,
in the US it is a more mixed picture. The economic costs of drug enforcement, and
particularly of mass incarceration, have been a factor, particularly since being
brought into sharp relief by the economic challenges facing all tiers of government
after the banking crisis in 2008. An increasingly organized and effective civil
society movement has also helped highlight the various more specific failings of
the US War on Drugs. These issues include racial disparities in drug enforcement,
frustration with violent militarized police drug raids, problems with civil forfeiture
laws, and tensions between state and federal government on medical cannabis.
Evidently sensing the shifting political sands, the Obama administration has
deliberately and progressively distanced itself from the more hawkish drug war
rhetoric of the past, including abandoning the phrase War on Drugs, in an effort to
reframe responses in the language of public health. This evolution in language and
engagement can be clearly traced through the administration. In 2009, the Obama
appointed US Drug Tsar Gil Kerlikowski stated that Legalization is not in my
vocabulary and its not in the presidents. But this was soon to change, partly due
to the debate in Latin America and various high-level reports that were continuing
to shift public opinion, but most obviously, when state-level cannabis legalization
started to look like it was becoming a reality. Soon, the Obama presidency was
showing an increasing, if somewhat reluctant, openness to at least acknowledge and
debate alternatives. In 2011, Obama stated that legalization is a perfectly legiti-
mate topic for debate (Szalavitz 2011), but was pushed much further by the state
level cannabis legalization ballot wins in Colorado and Washington in 2012. Asked
repeatedly about the legalization issue, Kerlikowski, in early 2103, conceded that,
far from not being in his vocabulary, it was now clear that were in the midst of a
serious national conversation about marijuana (Kerlikowski 2013). Soon after, in
an interview for The New Yorker in 2014, Obama shifted position again, stating
that:
We should not be locking up kids or individual users for long stretches of jail time when
some of the folks who are writing those laws have probably done the same thing. Its
important for [the legalization of cannabis in Colorado and Washington] to go forward
because its important for society not to have a situation in which a large portion of people
have at one time or another broken the law and only a select few get punished.
(Remnick 2014, IV The Welcome Table section)
256 S. Rolles
While Obama has made more ambiguous remarks critical about the failings,
injustices, and inequities of the War on Drugs in the past, to actively welcome
legalization moves was a ground-breaking moment for the administration, and an
even more dramatic one in the context of historical US intransigence in the issue.
Soon after his comments, the Federal Government finally announced what their
response to the Washington and Colorado legalization ballots would be. Having
prevaricated for over a year, a memo issued by the Department of Justice
(US Department of Justice 2013) made it clear that the moves would be tolerated
under certain conditions. These included protection of children, preventing profits
flowing to organized crime, containing markets within state boundaries, controlling
cannabis intoxicated driving, and so on. The US Federal Government had finally
been forced to engage in the debate on how legal regulation of drugs should
function, as opposed to the tired debate on whether to legalize or not.
The international impact of the changes in US drug debate cannot be
underestimated. In particular, the US Federal Governments effective green lighting
of the state-level legalization initiatives has dramatically diminished the authority
of the US to dictate punitive enforcement policy and oppose legalization elsewhere
in the world, effectively removing one of the significant remaining political and
diplomatic obstacles to other states considering drug law reform options. It was
notable, for example, that when Uruguay initiated its own state level cannabis
legalization moves, they did not receive any flak from the US whatsoever; indeed,
the US ambassador congratulated them.
Further emboldened by these developments, cannabis reforms are now making
progress in a number of other Latin countries; notably, in Mexico, where several
reform bills are progressing through state and federal Governments; and in Chile,
where the Congressional Health Committee has approved reform proposals on laws
for both medical and recreational cannabis. The changing political signals from the
US has evidently released the stranglehold on the debate in the Caribbean as well,
with Jamaica decriminalizing cannabis possession and implementing legal avail-
ability for medical and religious purposes, Bermuda exploring regulation options,
and a new commission on wider cannabis reforms being undertaken by the Carib-
bean Community and Common Market (CARICOM).
Even Latin governments that remain strongly resistant to more far-reaching
legalization are, nonetheless, at least claiming to be moving away from the more
punitive tenets of an old school prohibition. Part of the US attempts to reposition
itself in the new era of global reform has been promoting what it calls a third way
or middle-ground approach between the extremes of legalization and a war on
drugs. This approach emphasizes public health rhetoric, and alternatives to incar-
ceration, including diversion into treatment for drug offenders, often via a drug
court model. In the new era of real world legalization happening in multiple
jurisdictions, the approach feels oddly defensive, but can perhaps be seen, in part,
as an attempt to accommodate the clamor for change, particularly around mass
incarceration, without fundamentally challenging the prohibitionist paradigm they
have spent more than a century constructing. They are having some success with
exporting this third way thinking to Latin America as well, with variations on the
rhetoric cropping up more and more often in the public discourse, and drug court
models in particular being adopted in Mexico and elsewhere. The US enthusiasm to
export this new approach perhaps represents a way of derailing some of the more
far-reaching legalization moves that they still see as a threat to their interests.
Critics have certainly seen it more as a sort of prohibition lite, an attempt to be
seen to reforming, but primarily changing rhetoric rather than anything more
substantive.
While such measures are often supported by evidence that they are at least more
effective than previous incarceration approaches, in the US at least, they may not
really involve any significant shift in spending priorities, as the proportions of drug
budgets allocated to enforcement and health have remained roughly constant,
despite the rhetoric suggesting a reorientation or better balance. The drug court
approach also remains coercive in nature, blurring the boundaries between criminal
justice and health spheres in ways that are ethically questionable. Although nom-
inally designated as patients, people who use drugs are still treated as criminals,
and the threat of criminal sanctions is still used to ensure compliance. This may
appear more balanced relative to what existed before, but in no other medical
intervention could patients be treated in this way.
The wider problem is that claiming the badge of evidence-based for drug-
related health spending can often provide a smokescreen for the absence of evi-
dence justifying drug-related enforcement. In the context of evidence-based health
approaches on the one hand, and actively counterproductive enforcement on the
other, the suggestion that the two need to be balanced is nonsensical, given they
often are working in opposite directions. While moves of this kind are clearly
progress from harsher forms of enforcement, without regulated markets, most of the
harms associated with the illegal trade will remain.
US Now Straddling a Very Different Past and Future
The most recent development in US engagement with international drug law reform
is also, in many respects, the most striking. In September 2014, Ambassador
William Brownfield, US Assistant Secretary of State, delivered a statement to the
UN Press corps in New York for the Bureau of International Narcotics and Law
Enforcement Affairs. Expanding on similar but more ambiguous comments made at
other UN forums previously, Brownfield outlined a position that has now been
labeled the Brownfield Doctrine by some commentators, laying out what we call
our four pillars as to how we believe the international community should proceed
on drug policy:
First, respect the integrity of the existing UN Drug Control Conventions. Second, accept
flexible interpretation of those conventions. The first of them was drafted and enacted in
1961. Things have changed since 1961. We must have enough flexibility to allow us to
incorporate those changes into our policies. Third, to tolerate different national drug
policies, to accept the fact that some countries will have very strict drug approaches;
258 S. Rolles
other countries will legalize entire categories of drugs. All these countries must work
together in the international community. We must have some tolerance for those differing
policies. And our fourth pillar is agreement and consensus that whatever our approach and
policy may be on legalization, decriminalization, de-penalization, we all agree to combat
and resist the criminal organizationsnot those who buy, consume, but those who market
and traffic the product for economic gain. Respect the conventions: flexible interpretation;
tolerance for national polices; criminal organizationsthat is our mantra. (Brownfield
2014, para. 2)
Unsurprisingly, the part that caught the attention was the suggestion that the US,
for so long deploying the full force of its economic and diplomatic power to act as
the bully of global prohibition, was now willing to tolerate other countries that
wished to legalize not just cannabis, but in fact entire categories of drugs. While
by no means the end of this story, it certainly marks a watershed moment in the
evolution of the international drug control framework and the relationship of the US
with reform dynamics in Latin America and the wider world. For the reform
movement, it is clearly welcome that the US is talking about the problems with
the treaties and showing willingness to accept the reality of experiments with
regulation models that challenge the prohibitionist international framework. But it
is also evident that this latest move has been driven by political necessity rather than
reforming zeal; and some caution is needed in interpreting its implications.
The US Government is caught between the option of using federal forces to shut
down the state-level cannabis reforms, or trying to negotiate both federal and UN
treaty-level reforms that mean it is no longer in breach of its own and international
laws, the latter of course, which it was the key architect of. The first option is
politically untenable, as it would alienate the majority of voters who backed the
initiatives in key swing states; it was notable that the cannabis legalization ballot
measures in Washington and Colorado received more votes than Obama himself in
the presidential election they were tagged onto. The alternative option of reforming
federal and international law presents such enormous political and diplomatic
hurdles, both domestically and at the UN, that it is rendered it effectively impos-
sible, at least in the short to medium term. Instead, they have opted for a legal fudge
by claiming that, in fact, legalization is somehow allowed within a flexible inter-
pretation of the treaties, so that the US, Uruguay, and others that may follow, are not
actually in breach at all.
Quite aside from the apparent hypocrisy of the US argument when viewed in the
context of their overt intolerance of the Bolivian request for flexibility regards coca,
the suggestion is, by any reasonable objective legal analysis, quite absurd. The
treaty system is a fundamentally prohibitionist legal instrument and not even the
most creative flexible interpretation of its core punitive tenets could allow legal-
ization, arguably the single key thing they were established to prevent. Decriminal-
ization of people who use drugs, and harm reduction, certainly; legalization
absolutely not. An equivalent would be to suggest, for example, that a particular
form of torture be allowed under a flexible interpretation of the UN convention
against torture. That the two UN agencies that oversee the conventions, the
UN office on Drugs and Crime and the International Narcotics Control Board,
have made unambiguous statements that the US is now in breach makes the
un-tenability of their legal argument all too clear.
So where does this now leave the burgeoning Latin reform movement? Cer-
tainly, the challenge to the drug treaty framework that the US and other breaches
represents should act as a catalyst for meaningful debate and reform of an outdated
and broken system. To an extent, reformers can have their cake and eat it. They
can encourage principled breaches to explore alternatives to prohibition in pursuit
of the higher UN goals of human rights, human development, and human security,
while simultaneously pushing for multilateral reforms in the key UN arenas.
Modernization of the international system to make it fit for purpose is something
the US should embrace, not shy away from or try and finesse its way around with
untenable and messy legal interpretations. States cannot breach a core treaty
framework and try and maintain its integrity at the same time.
But on this occasion at least, this is a US treaty breach that has occurred for good
reasons; namely, that the old prohibitionist system is dysfunctional and redundant,
and new approaches are needed to protect the health and welfare of citizens. The
drug treaties are not written in stone; as with all laws, they contain mechanisms for
their reform and modernization when needed. That need has clearly arrived.
The Brownfield doctrine remains legally problematic and untenable, but is
perhaps best viewed as the most overt symbol yet of the imminent demise of the
faltering and dysfunctional international drug control framework in its current
form. In some ways, it will probably help create still more political space for
other Latin states to explore alternatives to prohibition, although arguably the
time has already passed when they somehow needed permission for this from
the US. The alignment of various geopolitical, economic, social and activist forces
has already created an environment in which the old prohibitionist regime must
adapt and modernize to meet the needs of contemporary societies, or become
increasingly marginalized, irrelevant, and redundant. Entrenchment and legalistic
sleight of hand will not preserve the integrity of the treaties; it is a case of, evolve or
become extinct.
Many reformers have pinned great hopes on the 2016 United Nations General
Assembly Special Session (UNGASS) to be the moment when this change will
finally arrive, although more realistic analysis suggests that the UNGASS will serve
primarily to highlight the divisions and breakdown of the system, with the coalesc-
ing group of reform-minded Latin states, likely supported by some more progres-
sive allies from Europe, the Caribbean, and elsewhere, leading the critique and
demands for change against fierce resistance from the still-powerful prohibitionist
block. It is, however, likely that the tensions that will inevitably surface at the
UNGASS will signal the beginning of the discussion on treaty-level reform, even if
not the moment it actually happens. The punitive prohibitionist paradigm has been
deeply entrenched in the political culture for approaching a century, and it will be a
generational challenge to unravel it and replace it with a more pragmatic health-
based model of drug control. That process will certainly be slow, but it has already
begun, and now has unstoppable momentum.
260 S. Rolles
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Index
A Cartel, 3, 26, 45, 55, 57, 58, 75, 8992, 96, 112,
Aerial spraying, 95 118, 219, 238, 252
Alternatives, 5, 8, 6063, 65, 67, 87101, 115, Cato agreement, 159, 162
126, 127, 132, 135, 136, 139, 142, 145, Central America, 55, 57, 59, 60, 62, 65, 66,
149165, 170, 187205, 223, 230, 219, 252
234236, 242, 247, 254256, 259 Changes, 5, 15, 60, 66, 73, 7983, 87, 88,
development, 60, 127, 135, 139, 150, 9193, 97101, 105, 109, 110, 113,
155156 117, 131, 141, 143, 144, 167182,
Americas, 18, 1130, 53, 55, 5766, 71, 74, 188, 190192, 198, 200, 203, 205,
78, 105, 106, 114, 118, 123, 128, 216, 223, 249, 254, 256, 257
146, 189, 246, 247 Chapare, 150154, 156159, 161165
Analytical framework, 12, 13, 15, 29, 34, 108, Civil war, 53, 54, 60
170, 188 Coca
Andean Trade Preference Act (ATPA), 76, 77, hectares, 137, 139, 140
127, 133, 134, 138140 prices, 157
Argentina, 5, 105, 164, 167182, 200, 212, 218 Colombia, 5, 7, 25, 26, 55, 59, 61, 7277, 79,
Assistance, 60, 66, 75, 79, 81, 83, 84, 108, 119, 80, 87101, 106, 107, 116, 118, 127,
126, 127, 131, 132, 155, 160, 174, 135, 138, 143, 154, 164, 200, 219,
175, 179181, 198, 215 247, 252, 253
Colorado, 6, 49, 200, 205, 255, 256, 258
Consequences, 6, 41, 67, 72, 94, 106, 124, 129,
B 161, 172177, 182, 193, 215, 222,
Bolivarian Revolution, 106 248, 252
Brazil, 46, 12, 1821, 24, 26, 55, 73, 118, 164, Corruption, 33, 34, 41, 44, 62, 6567, 90, 91,
178, 187195, 197200, 202205, 93, 94, 116, 119, 138, 143, 164, 192,
212, 219, 250 196, 216, 246, 252
Bridge country, 54 Criminalizing culture, 240, 251
Brownfield, W., 257259 Criminal response, 89, 167, 172, 174, 178, 179
Crop eradication, 113, 150, 252
C
Cannabis, 20, 35, 46, 56, 57, 63, 98, 170, 173, D
177, 192, 200, 203, 209223, 227, Decriminalization, 5, 6, 61, 63, 6567, 80, 106,
229, 232, 237, 239242, 245, 163, 177179, 188, 190, 195, 200,
247250, 253256, 258 201, 205, 216, 219, 239241, 253, 258

DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-29082-9
264 Index
Democracy, 53, 60, 67, 96, 101, 131, 138, 161, 165, 176, 180, 181, 193, 196, 201,
170, 171, 214, 215, 219, 253 216, 218, 219, 221, 228, 238, 246,
Disproportionality, 94 248, 259
Drug
cartels, 75, 8890, 92, 93, 95, 216, 238, 252
consumption, 35, 74, 88, 91, 95, 97100, I
123, 178, 222 Illicit drugs, 5557, 73, 110, 118, 123, 128, 164,
law reform, 109, 110, 253, 254, 256, 257 178, 192, 193, 197, 201, 203, 212
and military, 65, 108, 112, 113, 117, 187 Imperialism, 114, 116, 252
and penal system, 72, 114, 116 Industrializaton of coca, 163
policy, 57, 34, 35, 55, 59, 60, 6264, 66, International institutions, 75, 93, 100
7184, 87101, 107, 114, 117, 120,
124, 138, 188, 204, 205, 209, 210,
216, 218, 219, 223, 257 J
reform, 53, 62, 63, 65, 67, 87, 88, 96, 97, Jamaica, 5, 7, 55, 227234, 237242, 256
99, 100, 182, 254, 255
reform, 106
trafficking, 2, 3, 6, 11, 12, 15, 16, 22, K
2427, 34, 35, 37, 40, 43, 49, 5460, Kerlikowski, G., 255
62, 64, 65, 67, 71, 72, 7482, 8996,
98100, 107, 111, 112, 116119,
129, 139, 141, 164, 171, 174, 180, L
181, 187, 192201, 203, 213, 215, Latin America, 36, 8, 12, 24, 27, 34, 53, 55,
217, 220 59, 60, 71, 73, 74, 78, 79, 87, 99,
war, 62, 78, 155, 245259 105, 106, 112, 114, 115, 118, 123,
128, 174, 182, 205, 212, 216, 223,
232, 238, 245259
E Legalization
East Indian, 229, 231
Ecuador, 5, 6, 7184, 105
Eradication of coca crops, 130, 132, 135, 136, M
139, 142, 143, 149165 Marijuana, 4, 12, 33, 74, 88, 107, 123, 177,
189, 213, 232, 249
Matrix, 167, 168, 171, 172, 174176,
F 180182
Federation, 149, 156, 157, 159, 217 Mexico, 46, 12, 15, 1821, 2426, 3540,
4249, 54, 55, 5762, 74
Militarization, 3, 6, 7, 2427, 29, 109, 112,
G 212214, 246
Global Commission, 4, 60, 97, 219, 247, Military and police assistance, 118
253, 254 Molina, O.P., 53, 6167, 97, 180, 182, 254
Guatemala, 5, 6, 5367, 254 Morales, E., 149, 157
Movement Towards Socialism (MAS), 157, 159
Mujica, J., 6, 218, 220
H
Health, 2, 12, 36, 55, 73, 88, 116, 130, 150,
174, 188, 209, 228, 246 O
History, 1, 35, 12, 28, 29, 53, 54, 72, 77, 83, Obama, B., 255, 256, 258
151, 158, 167182, 189, 191, 197, Opium, 2, 16, 2022, 3539, 4245, 47, 54,
203, 209, 238, 247, 249 56, 57, 73, 88, 189, 190, 210212,
Human rights, 6, 54, 60, 62, 64, 65, 75, 81, 83, 230, 249
87, 88, 92, 9496, 98, 100, 101, 108, P
109, 111, 124, 127, 129, 132, 136, Pedagogy of Liberation, 234
138, 143, 144, 149, 154, 155, 160, Pinnacle, 230, 231, 233
Index 265
Planno, M., 234236 Sendero Luminoso, 131, 135137, 139, 143

Policies, 2, 12, 33, 55, 7184, 87101, 123, Sindicato, 152, 158, 159, 161, 162, 164
150, 168, 187, 209, 236, 253 Social control, 14, 22, 23, 28, 149165, 205
Prevention, 61, 73, 74, 78, 81, 88, 9092, 110, Subversive groups, 78, 124, 129132,
111, 169, 171, 172, 174, 175, 178, 135137, 139, 140, 143
180182, 191, 193, 222
Prohibition, 1, 1130, 53, 72, 87, 106, 123, 165,
167, 188, 210, 245 T
Prohibitionism, 13, 1113, 15, 17, 2023, Threshold quantities, 129
2729, 53, 61, 6466, 87, 100, 108, Treaty, 22, 23, 55, 89, 191, 215, 248, 251,
170, 204 258, 259
Proposal, 5, 12, 40, 41, 63, 97, 98, 176181,
188190, 198, 238, 241, 256
Public health, 2, 6, 8, 12, 1620, 23, 24, 3840, U
64, 7881, 84, 116, 188, 197, 199, United States, 2, 5, 12, 16, 17, 21, 27, 28, 53,
201203, 205, 210, 211, 214, 216, 55, 57, 59, 60, 62, 64, 66, 67, 71, 73,
231, 246, 255, 256 74, 7678, 80, 8991, 93, 95, 100,
116, 123128, 130, 135, 138, 139,
R 141, 151, 155, 156, 181, 205, 212,
Rastafari, 228242 228, 232, 238, 241, 242
Reasoning, 233236 Uruguay, 46, 49, 100, 105, 119, 128, 200,
Reform, 17, 38, 53, 72, 87, 105120, 153, 167, 209223, 256, 258
188, 211, 245259
Regulation, 2, 7, 8, 14, 19, 21, 35, 3740, 42,
49, 63, 65, 66, 72, 74, 77, 81, 82, 84, V
88, 97, 100, 101, 108, 125, 168, 179, Venezuela, 46, 58, 76, 105120, 127
189, 190, 200202, 209210, Violence, 130, 132, 143, 159, 160, 164, 181,
214217, 219223, 253, 256, 258 192, 193, 196, 198, 204, 213, 220,
Resistances, 176181 249, 250, 252, 253
Ritual, 119, 202, 229, 233235
W
S War on Drugs, 3, 4, 1130, 47, 48, 53, 57, 59,
Sacrament, 228, 229, 235, 239, 241 60, 62, 6567, 71, 7378, 80, 83, 89,
Salazar, V.L., 39, 40 93, 105, 106, 108, 109, 112, 114,
Santos, 25, 61, 87, 93, 95, 97, 253, 254 116, 117, 119, 126, 135, 138, 142,
Security, 3, 12, 33, 54, 74, 91, 107, 124, 149, 143, 149, 154, 170, 189, 192, 193,
170, 188, 209, 230, 246 199, 204, 212, 218221, 227, 228,
Seizing of cocaine, 139 236, 237, 245, 246, 252256

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BeatrizCaiubyLabate ClancyCavnar

Drug Policies and the Politics

ISBN 978-3-319-29080-5 ISBN 978-3-319-29082-9 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016948206

Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016

Printed on acid-free paper

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countrys citizens that it is a more effective way of regulating cannabis cultivation

1 Introduction: Drugs and Politics in the Americas: A Laboratory

8 From Freedom to Repression and Violence: The Evolution

10 History and Changes of the Drug Policy in Argentina . . . . . . . . . . 167

Clancy Cavnar has a doctorate in clinical psychology (PsyD) from John

Studies of Psychoactives (NEIP), and editor of NEIPs website (http://www.neip.

Andres Antillano is professor and researcher at the Institute of Penal Sciences, at

Security and Democracy program. Prior to that he worked as an assistant professor

Carla Alvarez Velasco has a masters in international relations and is a PhD

Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Clancy Cavnar, and Thiago Rodrigues

Prohibition: The Most Successful Failure

B.C. Labate (*)

Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 1

Beyond the Same Old Repression?

The Americas: A Drug Lab for Analysis

Thiago Rodrigues and Beatriz Caiuby Labate

A War Beyond the War

In a message sent to Congress in 1971, the then US President, Richard Nixon,

Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 11

indicate a slowdown in the criminalization of drugs such as marijuana, but that

The Moral, Social Practice and Public Health Levels:

psychoactives such as opiates (heroin, morphine) and cocaine, but established

The Levels of Public, National and International Security

of experts (doctors, chemists, pharmacists, psychiatrists, and others) on how to

considerable consumption in countries previously considered only as trafficking-

constitutional provision authorizing the federal government to intervene in internal

Final Words and an Invitation

the illegality of marijuana and the continued criminalization of a large (and

B.T. Smith (*)

Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2016 33

Instead, this chapter proposes a new analytical framework. Since Mexico

Drugs During the Porfiriato

Between Regulation and Prohibition, 19101940

Revolutionary Regulation: The State Drug Monopoly

nephew, who had mistakenly smoked one of his marijuana-laced cigarettes. He

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themselves, using a network of caciques to bring in drugs through Veracruz and

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of Sinaloa, Sonora, Chihuahua, Durango, Oaxaca, and Guerrero, identifying crops,

rival gangs, organizing the production and importation of drugs, divvying up

Acta de la sesion. (1914, June 17). Salubridad Publica/Presidencia/Actas de Sesi on

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responsibility and alternative development, and renewing a commitment

disciplines related to drug policy to assist in the development of proposals for

As we have previously mentioned, the approach towards drug policy taken by

Mesoamerican Working Group 2013; Rodrguez Pellecer 2011). These circum-

Ana Isabel Jacome and Carla Alvarez Velasco

A.I. Jacome (*)

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