Pubdate: Sun, 01 Feb 2004 Source: Sunday Times (UK) Copyright: 2004 Times Newspapers Ltd. Contact: http://www.sunday-times.co.uk/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/439 Author: Tom Lappin ECOSSE: MAKING A DOPE OF THE LAW The opening last week of a cannabis cafe in Edinburgh, in the shadow of the Scottish executive, attracted all the usual suspects, discovered Tom Lappin It's an unlikely place to start a revolution. But then it's an unlikely cause. The vociferous crowd gathering on a Leith street late on Thursday afternoon wasn't interested in storming any Bastilles, merely on finding a place where they could partake of a prohibited weed. Perhaps it's indicative of the current level of political engagement in Scottish society that the cravings of a small band of dedicated dope smokers could kick up such a heady cloud. All that seems to distinguish the purplehazecafe.com - let's just call it the Purple Haze cafe shall we? - from any other basement greasy spoon is the corny Jimi Hendrix reference. Otherwise the tatty decor, with its cracked paint and sagging posters, doesn't quite convey an atmosphere of thrilling revolt so much as snatched lunches eaten on the hoof. Amsterdam's famous brown cafes are instantly recognisable by the narcotic fug that defies all attempts by the air-conditioning to dispel it, and by the pockets of American dope tourists fixing their glazed eyes at the wall and groaning "maaan". Scotland's first cannabis cafe already has its own telltale aroma, redolent of Scotland's drug of choice for generations: the deep-fat fryer. This was the week when Purple Haze attempted to make the far-from-seamless transition from being a snack bar offering several calorie-soaked variations on the hamburger roll, to become a testing ground for the supposed new liberalisation of the cannabis laws. Thanks to the keen presence of the constabulary, it didn't quite pan out that way, but then first initiatives are rarely roaring successes. What was remarkable, though, was the level of opposition to the project. If they said it couldn't happen here, well they may have been right. In the event, it looks like marijuana nirvana might still be some way in the future. San Francisco? Sure. Amsterdam? Definitely. Edinburgh as a haven for third-generation hippie bohemia? Unlikely. Putting aside all moral, legal and health aspects, Scotland's capital simply doesn't seem to have the panache to become a spliff-roller's sanctuary. Yet Purple Haze, a short trip from the Scottish executive's offices by the Leith shore, was hoping to make a little psychedelic history at 4pm on Thursday. That was when the drug was reclassified as a class C narcotic and the decreed hour for Purple Haze to offer a tentative challenge to authority. The idea was to turn the premises into a private club where members could bring small amounts of cannabis for their personal use. Paul Stewart, the owner, while half expecting his own arrest, emphasised that the club would have a "responsible attitude", placing an emphasis on providing drug education (some leaflets) along with facilities for members to use the weed. "We recognise people use cannabis and want to provide an environment where they can do that as safely as possible," he said, nurturing, it seemed, a romantic notion of the place as a cool den of cerebral relaxation. "People will be able to bring their own cannabis here and smoke it while playing a game of chess or sending an e-mail," he added, identifying a potential benefit: quick access to your dealer, or lawyer, if and when required. In a curious twist, the club has banned the use of tobacco on the premises. In addition, pre-empting some of the complaints from health fanatics that cannabis users can suffer the same risks as tobacco smokers, those wanting a cannabis hit were invited to make use of vaporiser machines. These contraptions look a little like overgrown asthma inhalers and reportedly filter out most of the carcinogenic substances in the drug. If some of these particulars seem surprising, events began to unfold with grim predictably. As official spliffing-up time approached a media scrum ensued, with hopeful users joined on the streets by three ranks of press photographers taking drags on their cigarettes in between snatching shots of the murky interior. The putative members of the club seemed to have been assembled by a casting director looking for a shiftless squad of dope fiends, with plenty of goatees, grins and those woolly hats beloved of mountaineers and social refuseniks. The numbers were too small to suggest a broad grassroots demand for cannabis cafes, but numerous enough to show it wasn't just a fad among a small clique of dope heads. The determination to register as members was impressive given the firm presence of the authorities. One of them, identifying himself only as "Davie, because that's not my name like", was laughing at the inescapable comedy of the scene, but wanted to show some support for those brave enough to defy the law. James Duthie, a labourer from Leith, was disappointed that the police presence prevented him lighting up a joint, but he still found solace in the scene. "Even without smoking the place is so mellow," he said. "You wouldn't get this atmosphere in pubs. They are far more dangerous than any cannabis cafe." So much for the patrons - what of the police? As the hour of freedom grew closer, the force began to be felt. It started early on with a discouraging picket line of three officers handing out leaflets. Issued by Douglas Watson, a chief superintendent with the Lothian and Borders police, the statement made the legal position fairly unequivocal. "The possession and supply of cannabis continues to be an offence under Section 5 of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971," it read. "The management of premises also commit an offence if they knowingly allow any person to smoke cannabis on their premises, allow persons to supply cannabis on their premises, or offer to supply any article which may be used in the administration by any person of a controlled drug." That clause looked an effective way of stitching up the Purple Haze operation, outlawing those ingenious vaporisers, and delivering the message that while the authorities in England and Wales might be relaxing the policing of cannabis users, Scotland would remain thoroughly intolerant. But for all their strong words, the police avoided searches and seemed reluctant to take firm action. Nevertheless three arrests for drugs offences were reported. The big test is likely to come in the weeks ahead, unless the Lothian constabulary plans to have officers on permanent assignment. Perhaps this may even call for the revival of that 1960s archetype, the narc; an undercover officer in street attire that is just a couple of telltale years behind the times. And an Afro. That's the problem with cannabis, its whole image is wrapped up with a kind of benign idiocy. As a drug it is analogous with a dumb, furry freak brother loser ineffectualness. It's very difficult to take it seriously,either as a threat to western civilisation or as a campaigning issue worth getting exercised about. At one end of the spectrum you have those who maintain cannabis is a "gateway" drug leading inexorably to the abuse of more harmful narcotics; at the other you have those who boast of its efficacy as an alternative medicine. Both extremes have supporting evidence that just isn't strong enough to win the day. One of the first members on the Purple Haze roster was Tommy Sheridan, the ubiquitous Scottish Socialist party leader. If his political starting point, campaigning against the poll tax, might have been his zenith as a public figure, standing up for the rights of dope smokers might well prove his nadir. "We want to take drugs off our streets," he said, slightly mysteriously, because gangs of slack-jawed dope smokers on street corners are hardly a constant social problem in Scotland. Sheridan said he didn't partake himself, but he had turned up to show solidarity with the cafe's campaign. The fact that there were numerous camera crews and TV interviewers around wouldn't have put him off. Those who haven't been systematically eroding their brain cells may recall a time when the doctrine of socialism was about equality, the rights of the working man, grim-faced marches from Jarrow, that kind of thing. Now it seems that a pillar of the SSP's struggle is the right of the average stoner to lounge around in a basement getting off his face without being molested by the forces of state oppression. Kevin Williamson, the SSP drugs spokesman, whose incoherent protest in the Scottish parliament against George W Bush last year might as well have been the product of an altered mind, explained that his party's aim is to establish a network of tolerance zones across Scotland. To that end he has launched the Scottish Cannabis Coffee-shops Movement (SCCM) alongside Stewart and drugs researcher Neil Montgomery. The idea, Williamson suggests, is "to bring it into the open. Let's show that cannabis users aren't the deranged psychotics in the way the newspapers are trying to portray them". Williamson wants Purple Haze to be the first in a Dayglo network of such cafes across Scotland. This, he suggests, is only a holding measure until Holyrood has the powers to decriminalise the drug and Scotland can become one nation under a dope haze. Frances Curran, his party colleague, is a fellow traveller. She asked: "Why not legalise cannabis now and stop another 100,000 young people going through the criminal justice system? It would save a fortune in the courts." Sure, and while you're at it why not just legalise crime? There doesn't seem to be much sense coming from any quarter. In parliament Margo McDonald, the Independent MSP, offered a typically idiosyncratic view, worrying about the contents of Purple Haze's dessert trolley. "There will be people there eating cannabis cakes," she said. "That could mean the police have to test all the cakes in the shop, which would be a waste of time and money." As it turned out, the constabulary took only a cursory interest in Purple Haze's pastries, and managed to resist the temptation to impound a tray of doughnuts. The problem with all this hot air, accidentally entertaining though much of it might be, is that it is expended on such a pointless argument. In truth, the prime selling point of cannabis cafes in Amsterdam is that they are illegal in the rest of the world. Hence they are full of tourists giggling at the right to get off their faces in public without being arrested. It's not unlikely the legalisation of cannabis use would make the cannabis cafe redundant in that it does not encourage social interection to the level that alcohol does. Stewart and his colleagues are guilty of a certain degree of disingenuousness in failing to acknowledge that ultimately, the essential point of a cannabis cafe is as a point of supply. In the same way as there would be no future in cafes where customers came along to consume their own coffee and steak pie suppers, the only viable path for cannabis cafes would be to follow the Dutch pattern. There it involves sampling every variety of the potent homegrown variants fresh from the hydroponic producers now occupying the Dutch hinterland that used to be devoted to innocent tulips. This is where the plans of those who support such ventures as Purple Haze collapse or rather come smacking up against legislation that is never going to budge on the issue of supply or production, even if it might give the occasional grudging inch on possession. In any case, it is questionable whether those people who use cannabis regularly really need to partake of it in a dingy mauve basement when it's far more comfortable to do so in the seclusion of their own homes. Sitting in Purple Haze last week, I was far from convinced that there was enough going for the project to make dreary Leith a touch more colourful on a Thursday afternoon. But hey, you can still get a hamburger and chips or a roll and sausage. - --- MAP posted-by: Beth Wehrman