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April
1, 2009
La Rubia y La
Droga
Notes From
an Unknown Planet
by Fred Reed
I read with horror that Hillary Clinton, posing
as the Secretary of State, has been in Mexico
talking with Felipe Calderon, Mexico's president,
about "the problem of drugs." Horror is the
reasonable response whenever an American official
is allowed to pass beyond the beltway. Or stay
within it. They never know what they are doing. Oh
god.
In fairness, I have to concede that Ms. Clinton
is well qualified to talk to Calderon, since he
speaks
English. Further, I concede that she
does have a grasp of things Latin American,
engendered by many years in
Arkansas.
Aaagh.
May I suggest that the former First Basilisk had
no idea where she was or what she was doing? Oh
god, oh god. Oh god.
To show that utter futility can, if not be fun,
at least serve to pass an idle hour, let me express
the common Mexican and indeed South American view
of the, oh god, War on Drugs. It goes thusly:
Latin America does not have a drug problem. It
has a United States problem. The problem is that
Americans want drugs. The US is a huge, voracious,
insatiable market for drugs. Americans very much
want their brain candy. They will pay whatever they
need to pay to get it. All the world knows
this.
Why, Mexicans wonder, is America's drug habit
Mexico's problem? If Americans don't want drugs,
they can stop buying them. Nobody forces anyone to
use the stuff.
Ah, the rub is that Washington doesn't want
Americans to have drugs. All right, say Mexicans,
that is a problem between the American government
and the American people. Let America solve it.
Why, Mexican's ask -- read this sentence
carefully -- should Mexico tear itself in pieces,
lose thousands of dead annyally, and turn into a
war zone to solve a problem that America refuses to
solve?
Think. Why doesn't the American government run
sting operations at, say, Berkeley and Stanford,
and Rice and George Washington U., and put those
students caught using drugs in the slam for two
years per? How about a sting at your daughter's
high school, with a year in some nasty reformatory,
which is to say any reformatory, for those caught?
It could be a family sort of thing. You could visit
her and hear what fascinating things she had
learned about compulsory Lesbian sex.
The reason of course is that any effort to
punish large classes of politically influential
people would result in a revolution. You can't jail
Harvard. So Washington doesn't. Instead it expects
Mexico to do something about drugs.
Now, on the off-chance that you live in an
impermeable bubble, and don't know who uses drugs,
I will tell you. I note that I am not speculating
about this. I spent eight years working as a police
reporter from Anacostia to South Central, and know
whereof I speak.
Blue-collar people use drugs -- crack, for
example. I've spent whole days arresting down-scale
beauticians in rattletrap Chevys as they bought the
stuff from black dealers in the grubby satellite
towns outside Chicago. High rollers in Houston use
as much powder as they ski in (and it happens to my
certain knowledge on Capitol Hill). White
professionals have bags of grass in the garage. So,
most likely, do their children: In the suburban
high schools of metro Washington, e.g., Yorktown
and Washington and Lee, kids have easy access to
Mary Jane, acid, shrooms, nitrous, Ecstasy,
crystal. Good ol' boys in Texas make, grow, and use
drugs. Country kids in Virginia have a few plants
out in the woods. And so on.
Don't I remember that Hillary's husband used to
smoke chunky interns -- marijuana, I meant to say,
marijuana -- but didn't inhale?
Which is to say, as Mexicans know, drugs are
about as illegal in the US as is the downloading of
music. It is punished by very light sentences for
first-time users (which of course means first-time
caughters). High-school kids get a week of
"community service," perhaps, which they regard as
both amusing and a badge of honor. In general,
little real effort is made to apprehend respectable
white transgressors.
In short, the WOD is a fraud. In America the
drug racket is a mildly disreputable business,
tightly integrated into the economy, running
smoothly, employing countless federal cops, prison
guards, ineffectual rehab centers and equally
ineffectual psychotherapists, and providing bribes
to officials and huge deposits of laundered money
to banks. Narcos in the US do not engage in pitched
battles with the army because they have no reason
to. The government barely inconveniences them.
So why should Mexico fight this war for
Washington?
In a column, Pat Buchanan addresses the violence
in Mexico, and asks:
"Which is the greater evil? Legalized narcotics
for America's young or a failed state of 110,000
million on our southern border? Some choice. Some
country we've become."
Some country indeed, on many grounds. And the
WOD might be a good idea if it did anything beyond
keeping the price of drugs up. But it doesn't. I
suggest two things to Pat:
First, Mexico suffers narco-violence only
because Washington expects Mexico to do what
Washington won't. Failed state? Take away the narco
wars and Mexico is a reasonably successful
upper-third-world nation. If it fails, it will be
because we pushed it into failure.
Second, America's young already have almost
unlimited access to drugs. Many students experiment
with them. Few become addicts. Why? Because they
don't want to. How is that for simple?
It is common sense (the young actually do have
some of it) and not the DEA that prevents
addiction. Do you think that few kids become
alcoholics because they need an ID to buy
booze?
(Wild thought: Maybe we ought to give America's
young credit for not being complete morons. Nah,
never fly.)
Mexicans know all of the foregoing. Remember
that there is a steady flow of Mexican nationals in
both directions across the border. Americans are
out of touch with Mexico, but Mexicans are not out
of touch with America. They also know, as Americans
seem not to, that corruption runs wide and deep
north of the Rio Bravo. (A common story: when you
cross the border illegally with the coyote, you
wait behind a bush until the Border Patrol guy who
has been bribed comes on duty.) They know that when
narcos can offer bribes running into the millions,
American officials will accept them as readily as
anyone else. Would you refuse a million inflating
green ones to unobserve a truck crossing the
border? I would.
A business with that much money isn't going to
be shut down, obviously, which is why fifty years
on, the WOD have accomplished exactly nothing. And
South America knows it.
The Latin American attitude toward the largely
imaginary War on Drugs could be summed up thusly:
"Solve your own problems, gringo. We aren't your
mother. Leave us alone." Fat chance.
Reed
Archive
Copyright 2009 by Fred Reed and reproduced here by
permission of the author.
About
the Author (by the author):
Fred Reed is a Marine combat veteran, police
reporter, amateur biochemist, former long-haul
hitchhiker, and part-time sociopath living in
Mexico. Fred, a keyboard mercenary with a
disorganized past, has worked on staff for Army
Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune,
Federal Computer Week, and The Washington
Times. He has been published in Playboy,
Soldier of Fortune, The Wall Street Journal, The
Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal,
Air&Space, and suchlike. He has worked as a
police writer, technology editor, military
specialist, and authority on mercenary soldiers. He
is by all accounts as looney as a tune.
Visit the "Fred
on Everything" website to read his previous
columns and sign up for his regular e-mail
feature.
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The essays in A Brass Pole in
Bangkok, are sometimes wildly funny,
sometimes deadly serious, always merciless
in their unmasking of the pretenses and
charlatans of society. Fred, a former
Marine, subscribes to no ideology ("an
ideology is just a systematic way of
misunderstanding the world") but
exuberantly wreaks havoc on practically
everything, and delights in everything
else: the psychotherapy swindle, squalling
feminists, race racketeers, damn fool
wars, red-light districts in Asia, and
tequila fests in Mexico, where he
lives.
A
Brass Pole in Bangkok: A Thing I Aspire To
Be, by Fred Reed
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Buy Fred's new reprehensible book,
Nekkid In Austin! Another
collection of Fred's collected outrages,
irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry
from "Fred On Everything" and some
innocent magazines that, he says,
foolishly published him. Wildly funny,
sometimes wacky, always provocative essays
on the collapse of America.
Nekkid
in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a
Well, by Fred Reed
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