Senor Nice (29 page)

In August Scott was extradited to a Swiss subterranean holding unit in Mendrisio, Ticino, still waiting to find out the specific charges against him. Confined in a windowless cell and interrogated daily for sessions lasting as long as seven hours, Scott truthfully answered all the questions put to him to encourage the Swiss authorities to charge him with a specific offence and get the matter resolved. If he had refused to answer, the Swiss could have kept him for two years while they conducted their investigations. Lawyers were not allowed to attend these deeply unpleasant, threatening interrogations. The prosecutors in Ticino will use virtually any means to get what they want – usually an admission of guilt – but there was no criminal conduct for Scott to admit to.

Cannabis growers throughout the world were outraged. During October 2003 the following petition was posted on the Internet.

Next to the petition was a photograph of Scott, smiling and reading a copy of the Italian translation of
Mr Nice
. Thousands signed the petition, which, of course, had no effect on the authorities. They never do.

I have fought and campaigned to legalise cannabis since I smoked my first joint in 1964. I wasn’t alone; I merely followed the lead given by rock singers, artists, poets, writers and politicians of the day. A few years later, in 1969, the Wootton Committee, set up by Harold Wilson’s Labour government, concluded cannabis should be decriminalised. It stopped short of legalisation, mainly because the members of the United Nations appeared obligated by international treaty to keep it illegal; the penalties for transgression, however, were left up to each nation’s discretion and varied from no punishment at all to the death penalty. The Wooton Committee suggested no penalties. At the time you couldn’t have asked for more.

However, without providing any justification, Home Secretary James Callaghan refused to carry out the committee’s recommendations. The penalties for cannabis use and dealing were not removed; they were increased. British cannabis users were furious. Some became dedicated dope dealers and spent years in prison. On my release, I took my activism to the limit: I smoked joints on stage, in pubs,
restaurants and outside police stations, inviting arrest. Although I was forcibly ejected from a few bars and clubs I was never arrested by the police, who invariably had more important problems. I also took part in hundreds of debates and discussions at university unions and on television and radio, and wrote scores of articles for newspapers and magazines. I was a member of the European Commission-financed British Drug Policy Review Group, a behind-the-scenes group of police, judges, members of the House of Lords, clergymen and academics who wished to see drugs legalised.

In 1997 some stalwart from the Norwich-based Legalise Cannabis Alliance asked if I would stand for Parliament in their constituency. After determining that ex-convicts were allowed to stand and that the only requirements were to be alive and to have £500, I agreed. It was thought at first that I should stand as an independent, but as this would oblige me to be familiar with things like education and hospital services, about which I knew nothing, we formed the single-issue Legalise Cannabis Party. I could therefore only be expected to know questions about cannabis, and the local knowledge I would require would be confined to that concerning the dope-smoking community. I went through all the procedures, paid up, and was accepted as a bona fide Parliamentary candidate for Norwich South. Charles Clarke (Lab.), who went on to become, briefly, home secretary, was standing against me.

‘Howard Marks of the Legalise Cannabis Party. Mr Marks, have you ever actually smoked cannabis?’

‘Yes. I have smoked cannabis every day for—’

‘Thank you, Mr Marks. Moving on to Charles Clarke of the Labour party. Mr Clarke, have you ever smoked cannabis?’

‘Yes, I have, but it was many years ago,’ answered Charles Clarke.

The audience murmured in disbelief. This was the first time an MP had publicly admitted smoking cannabis. I saw my
chance and to loud protests shouted, ‘Mr Clarke, as there are no statutes of limitation in this country, would you report your crime to the police and be prepared to face the same punishment as has been handed out to several of our party members for similar conduct?’

‘I only smoked it once and didn’t like it. It’s a very bad drug,’ said Charles Clarke, squirming slightly.

The hustings chairman changed the subject.

Next to Norwich South lies Norwich North. I’ve never been keen on borders so decided to stand for Parliament there as well – you can stand in two or more constituencies but sit for only one. Campaigning in two constituencies was excellent fun. Cameramen and journalists followed me all day. Instead of standing on a soapbox announcing boring policy objectives and imploring people to vote for me, we bought a battered van, decorated it with fairy lights and giant marijuana leaves, and banged out non-stop techno from speakers on the roof. We drove through every street in Norwich delivering the following through letterboxes and distributing it on flyers to restaurants, pubs, and clubs:

Word got around, and I was asked to stand in two other constituencies, Neath and Southampton Test. Simultaneously campaigning in the public halls, squats, techno clubs, shebeens, brothels, illegal raves, recording studios and opium dens of four constituencies proved exhausting. I managed to get an average of 500 votes, losing my deposit in each constituency. I was disappointed of course, but there was never any chance of my being elected, and we had certainly succeeded in bringing our cause to the attention of the public.

Wondering in which direction I should next proceed to advance the cause of re-legalising cannabis, I soon after happened to be reading the employment section of
The Times
. In it was advertised a newly created post in the Cabinet Office – the UK Anti-Drugs Co-ordinator – whose brief was to eradicate illegal drug trafficking in the UK. Realising that by legalising all drugs I could fulfil the brief easily and quickly, I wrote to the Cabinet Office. They sent me an application form, on which the following words appeared in large bold type: ‘UK ANTI-DRUGS CO-ORDINATOR, ALSO KNOWN AS “DRUG CZAR”.’ I had never dreamed I would have the opportunity of being promoted from a mere baron to a czar. The salary was £75,000 a year, much less than the average drug baron’s but not bad for a job with a built-in alias, and I have always been fond of pseudonyms. There was also a £5,000 removal allowance. I could make good use of this to transport a container of my personal effects which had been sitting around in Kathmandu since the 1980s. I presumed there would be diplomatic immunity. Another page outlined the core personal requirements for the post. These included proven leadership qualities, negotiating and influencing skills, and the capacity for strategic planning linked firmly to the delivery of results. I found this encouraging as the authorities already had proof that I had been the head of the largest marijuana-smuggling organisation in the world; were aware of my successful negotiations with the
Mafia
and other international organisations, and knew that I had delivered well over a hundred tons of hashish. The page finished by stating that the successful applicant would require credibility in the drugs field. I felt I was in with a chance and wrote the following:

I posted the completed application form to the Cabinet Office. Eventually I received a reply.

Again I was disappointed, but at least the door had not been closed.

None of my tireless work appeared to have the remotest effect. But now, while Scott was languishing in a Swiss prison for legally growing cannabis, a wind of change was puffing its way through the British cannabis community. More people were smoking more joints than ever before. Those on the dole
could grow stronger marijuana than gangsters could import. The police were fed up with busting honest, otherwise law-abiding kids, and police chiefs were advocating turning a blind eye. Rumours of impending legalisation swept through the streets. At last, the government, after refusing for decades to even debate the issue, was going to sort it.

There was some cause for optimism. At the end of 2001, Home Secretary David Blunkett had asked the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs to review the classification of cannabis in the light of available scientific evidence. Drug offence penalties are graded into one of three classes according to the personal or social harm attributable to the particular drug. Class A, carrying a maximum penalty of life imprisonment, included heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and LSD; Class B, with a maximum of fourteen years imprisonment, included cannabis, amphetamines and barbiturates; while Class C, with a maximum of five years imprisonment, included steroids and tranquillisers. Although the Advisory Council found cannabis could produce dilatation of the conjunctival blood vessels (red eyes), disrupt blood pressure (a whitey) and increase heart rate, it stated that such cardiovascular symptoms are similar to the effects of exercise, and most unlikely to constitute a health risk. It further found that cannabis did not increase risk-taking behaviour, did not contribute to violence – either to others or to oneself – did not cause mental illness or brain damage, and did not lead on to other drugs. The Council concluded that cannabis was much less harmful than the other substances within Class B and should therefore be reclassified as Class C. Polls showed that most of the voting population agreed. The reclassification was implemented in law during early 2004, and many cannabis smokers felt they could smoke with impunity.