A closer look at the legalization of cannabis
On October 17, Canada will legalize the recreational use of cannabis, making us only the second country, after Uruguay, to do so1. Legalization will make using the drug safer as it will be subject to rigorous quality control, it will end the shameful tradition of arresting those possessing moderate amounts for personal use—which unsurprisingly, disproportionately targets racial minorities2—and it will give the government a new source of tax revenue that is currently swallowed up entirely by an illegal market. The legal and political impacts of legalization should be thoroughly positive. However, the social implications are less certain.
Legalization will surely enhance our inadequate collective perception of cannabis. While it has certainly evolved past the “reefer madness” craze of bygone days, our societal grasp of cannabis is more hazy than other substances such as cigarettes and alcohol. Due to its illegal status up until this point, reliable statistics on cannabis use in Canada are hard to come by. In 2015, Statistics Canada reported that just over 15 percent3 of Canadians have used cannabis. Other sources suggest that number could be even higher, but seemingly well under a quarter of the population have used cannabis. That means that most of the country has learned about it either from the media or by word of mouth—there is sure to be a swath of first-time users going in relatively uninformed. Of course, the subject has been heavily covered in the news since the Liberal government stated their intention to legalize. But most of this coverage has been thoroughly logistical, relating to the process of and framework for legalization. Nearly absent has been discussion on how cannabis affects individual people’s lifestyles and health, both mental and physical. Now that cannabis is free from the stigma that comes with being an illegal drug, it is the time to foster frank discussion about it—the good, the bad, and especially the ugly.
Cannabis makes up a significant part of my life. During much of high school, and now into university, I’ve gotten high somewhere between one and seven days a week. Most of the time I spend with friends involves getting high. I would even venture to say that it makes up the basis of some of my relationships with friends. That’s not to say that all we do is sit around, eat chips, and stare at the wall. My friends and I get high and play sports, discuss politics, or go to the beach, as well as doing many of the more stereotypical activities like blankly staring at walls. Being high makes all of these activities more enjoyable, whether through the light sense of euphoria that it brings, or through the warm blanket of relaxation that washes over me. I find that cannabis simply makes the mundane interesting and the bland funny.
Moreover, this is not limited to things done with other people. I’ve gotten high before going to family dinners, doing homework, or even just going to bed. What used to be an event reserved exclusively for Friday and Saturday nights has become a regular and seemingly mundane part of life. Frankly, I am able to get moderately high and function just as well as when I’m not, while enjoying myself more. Being high has added colour to some of the most palpably banal parts of my life. When I or others have questioned how kosher this practice is, I’ve privately reconciled the question by asking: “what about something so subtle and enjoyable could not be positive?” I’ve come to realize that the negatives of cannabis use are because of its adaptive quality. At this point, it is just a fact of my life.
Furthermore, if I were to abruptly quit, I would not go through a painful withdrawal like a heavy user of alcohol, cocaine, opioids, nicotine, or even caffeine. According to science, I could stop as soon as I like, whenever I like. Alcohol is the cause of more physical harm to its users and those around them than cannabis is4. It is also impossible to consume enough cannabis to kill you, unlike the very real possibility with alcohol. Since its effects are not nearly as dramatic as alcohol’s, I believe that cannabis is falsely perceived as almost entirely harmless. Whereas it is not difficult to identify a drunk person, a high person—unless given away by smell or red eyes (which can be eliminated by eyedrops or excused as tiredness—can slip past the probing gaze of their colleagues, parents and friends entirely unnoticed.
The assumed harmlessness and adaptability of cannabis have sculpted the nonchalant cultural attitude around it. This is evident even in the way we speak: whether weed, pot, piff, loud, bud, sticky-icky, kush, or something else, none of these monikers fall right on the nose. In comparison, alcohol is generally either referred to directly as such, or specified by type. Additionally, alcohol has a clearly defined place in a functioning society. That is to say that there are times when it is okay to drink and times when it isn’t. The same line, if there even is one, is much hazier for cannabis. As it becomes fully part of the cultural mainstream, we ought to clearly draw one.
I don’t mean to say that I have any regrets in this respect. I maintain there are very good reasons for using cannabis. Frankly, it has helped me deal with anxiety, improved my creativity, and made my life all around more enjoyable. I don’t know what kind of person I would be had I never tried cannabis, but I am okay with the person I am now. That said, I cannot say how my current use will manifest itself later in my life. Maybe one day I will wish that I had the requisite knowledge going in to take full personal responsibility and draw the line.
