Reefer Sadness

He’s often demonized as existentially lazy, obtuse, and prone to erratic fits of violence. Although he might look just like one of us—and indeed is a great number of us, probably with a family and a stable job—he was recently described by John P. Walters as a “vicious criminal terrorist,” and he and his forsaken friends litter our penal system, their lives and careers forever ruined on account of their victimless pastime. What could an honest, tax-paying, otherwise law-abiding citizen possibly do in this country to earn such a fate?

He need do nothing more than be an occasional user of marijuana.

Immediately after his appointment as the Director of the Office of National Drug Control Policy in late 2001, Walters began his fanatical campaign against marijuana, declaring it to be “America’s most dangerous drug” and spreading sensational folklore like the notion that modern marijuana is twice as potent as it used to be and that it has no more medical value than crack cocaine. He proceeded to spend the next two years touring the United States, encouraging more draconian penalties and stifling any measure which might serve to reallocate money from punishment to rehabilitation. But even though by the ONCDP’s own admission, a trillion and a half dollars have thus far been wasted on all of this disgraceful propaganda over the last decade, after half a century of acquiescence the rhetoric is losing its luster. How could this be? Because despite the moral panic the disingenuous Drug Czar and his cohorts wish to foment, the empirical facts are different.

In almost every controlled clinical study, marijuana doesn’t actually cause mental or physical illness, long-term memory loss, sterility, or any other impairment of the immune system, nor does it seem to cause lung cancer or emphysema without concurrent tobacco use. It hasn’t been proven to contribute to crime—other than marijuana possession, of course—and users don’t even seem to be more likely to be involved in automobile fatalities. (This is, of course, in stark contrast to the havoc alcohol wreaks on our faculties of common sense and our bodies, and its own considerable contribution to the commission of crime.) Marijuana doesn’t appear to be a gateway to hard drugs to a greater extent than any of its legal counterparts, it doesn’t cause the average college student any academic trouble, and wages among working adult users are actually higher, on average, than those of nonusers. As to whether or not cannabis has any practical application, the answer is clearly a resounding “yes;” clinical studies have repeatedly demonstrated that THC could serve a valuable role in therapeutic medicine as a nausea-reliever, analgesic, and antidepressant.

All of the above is more than one needs to prove the constitutional case, anyway. When have such things been a constitutionally sufficient condition for prohibition? (To that end, one cannot help but wonder how many tireless opponents of marijuana have given testimony on the subject only with the aid of a certain addictive stimulant percolated in almost every American household.) What kind of democracy is this, anyway? Is it not the very point of our elegant constitution to protect the interests of the minority from the tyranny of the majority?

The War on Drugs has been perhaps the most embarrassing failure in the history of modern American public policy, and as Reuters reported back in 2006, marijuana has officially become the nation’s largest cash crop. Obviously, prohibition is not the answer, and as always, this is merely an aside to a more interesting and profound conversation; rather than "How do we lower drug usage?" it seems we actually ought to be asking "Why is it so high in the first place?"

(Note: if you wish to see a source for any of my empirical data, I do have them readily available. There simply isn't enough room for proper citation in the newspaper.)

Brave New Art

Arguments concerning art tend to proceed in the following way: two people first discover their disagreement on a given piece; they engage in dialectic of a progressively larger scope; they ultimately find their differences to be of some non-foundational nature; they agree to disagree. This is not always the sequence and relativism is not always the necessary result, but it seems to be the standard. Since the inception of postmodernism, however, the architecture of artistic expression itself has been challenged; the notes decided arbitrarily, the colors painted indistinct, the words shrouded in ambiguity. Must there be colors, sounds, rhythm? Must there be a canvas? Must there be an artist? Does “proper” art even exist?

Moving from generalized abstractions to concrete examples is straightforward: is the serialism of Schoënberg too radical, or do we draw the line at his student John Cage’s out-and-out aleatory? Or must we, as Ludwig Wittgenstein asserted, journey all the way back to Brahms to find anything of value? Is Picasso the final frontier, or do we permit everything up to and including Jackson Pollock? Does Joyce’s Ulysses represent the awakening of modernism, or rather a terminal disease reaching metastasis? It’s an easy escape to do as the relativists do, after all—eschew these questions altogether and endorse an artistic mandate of laissez-faire. This capitulation, exasperating as it can be, does serve as a constructive prelude to the crucial thesis; while it is and always has been difficult to properly define what art is and when it succeeds, it seems somewhat easier to delineate what art isn’t and when it fails.

Examples abound: in Nicaragua, Guillermo Vargas put on exhibit a dog tied to a wall without food, supposedly until the poor creature starved to death. Aliza Shvarts, a senior art student at Yale, repeatedly artificially inseminated herself, induced a miscarriage, and harvested the products of the abortions for use as her final senior project. Some examples have achieved greater fame and longevity; Andres Serrano’s photograph "Piss Christ," first exhibited in 1989, portrayed a crucifix inside a beaker allegedly filled with the artist’s own urine, and remains notorious two decades later.

But is there anything artistic to be admired or appreciated in this lot? Never mind a skill or a beauty—is there even a sense of intellectual courage? And while they have certainly produced their predictable and desired results, has any ever established its use as an expression of creativity? None of these performances demonstrate any of that, nor philosophical insight either. In fact, unlike their nineteenth-century predecessors Goya and Manet, they don’t even set a pretense of artistic ambition at all; these demonstrations are simply hollow manifestations of controversy for their own sake, degenerate mechanisms by which self-important iconoclasts can demonstrate their rebellion. They generally say much more about the performer than the subject of the performance. Unfortunately, this is precisely their point.

Perhaps I am mistaken; perhaps smeared embryos, tortured animals, and debased crucifixes are high art. But then one must admit, the membership of such demonstrations rather debauches the entire party, does it not? These displays serve more reasonably as Reductio ad absurdum arguments for what art is not. Someone, for instance, who doesn’t love Beethoven as I do—or conversely, who loves Chopin as I cannot—at least treads with me a common ground. I can appreciate and acknowledge the gestures of the latter’s Études and Preludes without admitting their transcendence. But as for someone who sees artistic merit in the meaningless vulgarities above? The antithesis of art is not kitsch, apparently, but profanity, and with such a person—one who exalts the profane—I share nothing at all.

The Election: IV. Barack Obama

This article is the fourth in a four-part series.

I submit the following principle: any election review which claims to be comprehensive is decidedly not if it fails to offer the reviewer’s forecast. If political commentators won’t divulge their favorites – in both the personal and the speculative sense – then they shouldn’t be in the business of punditry, should they? Yet it’s a paradoxical symptom of the entanglement of American politics and media that talking heads, who are paid entirely on the basis of their opinions, are forced to maintain an artificial and castrated neutrality. (One might, as an aside of an aside, ask “How did this come to be?” In modernity, pundits are only an endorsement or two away from political office themselves – and vice versa – and they are more aware than anyone that their commentary never occurs without consequence. Deniability is even more valuable to a certain kind of ambitious pundit than it is to a politician.)

But notwithstanding its actual incidence, since when has political neutrality been a virtue? Could any informed person be said to be without political persuasion? No, of course not, and I’m no exception; I’m to the left of most Collegian readers, and in fact, probably to the left of most people. But this bias is hardly crippling, and it allows me to urge without reluctance that if any pundit ever tries to stake a claim as a disinterested observer, it is one’s own power, right, and furthermore, obligation as a rational consumer of information to ignore this person. That being said:

Senator Obama will win the election, and handily. And moreover, he should.

The first point does require a disclaimer: to win a presidential contest “handily” is a different notion now than it once was, even in the recent past. In the election of 1984, almost twenty points separated Reagan and Mondale, whereas in the most recent election, only a little over a tenth of that separated Bush and Kerry. The acrimony and partisanship of the last few years will exclude the possibility of an outright landslide, but my suspicion is that Obama will still win by more than five points. The reasons are diverse; four thousand American lives and three trillion dollars have been spent in Iraq, and Americans and Iraqis alike have ultimately gotten little in return. Meanwhile, on the domestic front, one bureaucratic scandal after another have emerged, each more disgraceful than the last, jobs and capital are fleeing for terra firma, and our healthcare system continues to be an international embarrassment. The largest liability of all, of course, is the bankrupt economy, and not only does the GOP continue to support its disastrous fiscal policy, McCain – in contrast to Obama – unabashedly vows to continue it.

The second point is somewhat more contentious. While Obama’s politics are far more sensible than those of his opponents’ and his strengths are monumental, of equal prominence are his flaws. His relationship with Trinity United and Reverend Wright has always been his most devastating blemish; the United States is not prepared to accept a president who is an apologist for racism, and while his own rhetoric has always sang of unification, his motley crew of associates have the unfortunate habit of speaking for themselves. He has lesser faults as well: among others, he does lack the traditional sort of experience, and he also seems to have developed a disturbing cult of personality around him, a cancerous overgrowth of his charisma. But these objections simply won’t be enough. He has too much support, and too much momentum, and he’ll have his chance to prove his thesis on an international stage. If he’s successful, that reserved little boy from Hawaii could very easily become the most important black man in the history of the United States. He has certainly done his part; now we must do ours.

The Election: III. John McCain

This article is the third in a four-part series.

For many who have found themselves disillusioned or driven to indifference by politics, their cynicism can be attributed to some singular event. In my mother’s age cohort, the transformative episode was Watergate; in mine, it was Lewinsky. In moments such as those, the façade of glamorous and prestigious respectability slips from the proud portrait of American politics, revealing the ugly Darwinism and constantly collapsing scenery of Washington underneath. For most, the death of the noble politick is only a private sadness in the childhood of our adulthood, but for John McCain, the realization seemed to occur tragically too late: February of 2000, in South Carolina.

Senator McCain and Governor Bush were embroiled in a close race for the nomination, McCain had just decisively won in New Hampshire, and the upcoming primary in South Carolina offered him an opportunity for checkmate. But Bush, sensing danger, launched an appalling smear campaign against the senator. Among the innuendos and outright suggestions made by the then-governor’s surrogates and proxies were that McCain had abandoned his fellow veterans, that his wife was a drug addict, and most famously, that he had illegitimately fathered a black child. McCain’s own feeble retaliations backfired, he lost the primary and his support, and never regained his footing in the race; less than a month later, he had quietly withdrawn. Now for Bush and his disgraceful associates – and for the rest of us, too – this was merely an entr’acte in a ballet we had all seen many times before, and would see many times again. The particulars were uncharacteristically hideous, but the theater itself was familiar. However, for the senator, who had promised his legion of supporters a campaign of amity, this was enough to send him into the throes of an existential crisis. And eight years later, the calluses of that affair have left him as different as did his captors in Vietnam.

He still boasts the most diverse array of political weaknesses. At seventy-two, he would be the oldest man to take office for the first time. He still has that legendary penchant for rudeness, impetuousness and occasionally, outright stupidity. And now, unfortunately, any political support for him requires a defense of the war as a prerequisite. By his own admission, he knows little about economics, and judging by some of his recent blunders, he doesn’t seem to know a lot about geopolitics, either. The truth is, in this election, Senator McCain is just intellectually outmatched by his opponents.

But he is also a genuine patriot, one of the noblest and most inspiring breed. His personal account of his experience in Hanoi is still stirring and inspirational, and without the slightest hint of disingenuousness. Four generations of military service – his own children included – stand as testimony to their sincerity, and swiftboating of any kind should be met only with our absolute condemnation and dismissal. And regardless of his current rhetoric, what makes him palatable to moderates and Democrats is precisely what has always made him the opposite to his own party; he is not a reliable conservative. He’s just an honest, plainspoken man who doesn’t ultimately wish to answer to the bureaucrats of either persuasion. But his politics will forever be overshadowed by the legacy of his heroism, a fate to which he seems rather comfortably resigned. Perhaps he should be; the important question now is, when the charge is leveled on a national stage – as it will be, by everyone – that Mr. McCain is the most dignified candidate, the most fitting, the most honorable, what will be the response of the beloved junior senator from Illinois?

The Election: II. Ralph Nader

This article is the second in a four-part series.

The American political process is a fickle creature; consider, for a moment, the roster for the presidential election. In one corner, we once had a populist attorney, John Edwards, who suffers the fate of being gone but not forgotten, and in another we now have another populist attorney, Ralph Nader, who has always suffered from precisely the opposite problem! (And lest one accuse the association of being forced or contrived, Mr. Nader had since before his own campaign declared Edwards his top candidate.)

The differences between the two are very slight – Edwards is the more accomplished lawyer, Nader the more rousing activist – yet the latter hasn’t the slightest chance of ever winning an election, and the former very nearly did. We’ve seen a marginalization of the protest vote on a systematic level this season, too: despite enthusiastic audiences, robust grassroots campaigns, and an abundance of support, both Rep. Paul and Rep. Kucinich couldn’t even earn invitations to their own respective debates. And when Nader declared his candidacy back in February, the news was buried by the fanfare of Raúl Castro’s ascendancy in Havana, and hardly a person batted an eye. The sociologists were right all along; the very first primary occurs in the offices of bureau chiefs.

But neither Nader nor any of the rest of them are the ultimate casualty of the media’s machinations – we are. Subjects without broad sex appeal generally go uncovered, ignored and eventually forgotten, and then we pay a dear price for our inattention. To what extent? Well, ask yourself a question: can you name the current Chief Justice and the current Chairman of the Fed? If you can’t, don’t despair your inclusion in this overwhelming majority, but be aware: both men do have an immediate and considerable impact on your life. And so will Nader, if we all don’t tread carefully in November.

Everyone knows he has no chance of election, but of what existential value is his actual message? Is a ballot submitted for him a voice engaged in constructive dissent, or is it just misguided support for a political parasite? For his own part, he seems earnest in his efforts, and throughout the season, he will certainly continue to play his signature role: the quintessential activist, ever in pursuit of Big Business malfeasance and sadly, his own vanishing historical relevance. But as noble a goal as that might be to progressives, at what cost will it come? While it seems unlikely that he will actually be able to take responsibility for a Republican victory in November – a part that he has vociferously denied ever playing in any election – the Democrats can no longer afford not to take him seriously; a Zogby survey two weeks ago bestowed exactly the same number of percentage points to him as to the spread between either Democratic candidate and Senator McCain.

Although torpedoing presidential elections for the purposes of protest does make him reckless and intractable, a point can still be made on his behalf: he’s a tireless champion of consumer causes, and yet since 2000, progressives have been his very harshest critics. Wealthy Democrats with their pledges and the ordinary Democrats with their sentiments have continued to plead with him, “Don’t run for office. Don’t ruin another election,” oblivious to the fact that if they had paid closer attention to their own interests, he wouldn’t have to. Ralph Nader has earned his right to be acknowledged as a real candidate; we may not vote for him, but hopefully we don’t again make the mistake of forgetting about him.