Global Leaders Call for Major Shift to Decriminalize Drugs

By Liz Goodwin

A slew of big-name former politicians are endorsing a report that says the war on drugs is not working and that drug enforcement policy needs to fundamentally change. The Global Commission on Drug Policy will urge a "paradigm shift" that emphasizes public health over criminalization tomorrow at a meeting in New York City, The Guardian reports.

Those backing the report include former Mexican President Ernesto Zedillo, former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, former U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz and former Fed Chair Paul Volcker. Former elected leaders of Greece, Brazil and Colombia have also signed on.

"What we have here is the greatest collection thus far of ex-presidents and prime ministers calling very clearly for decriminalization and experiments with legal regulation," Danny Kushlick, spokesman for the drug policy center Transform, told the Guardian. "It will be a watershed moment."

But, faced with the list of "formers" backing the new recommendation, The Lookout couldn't help but wonder: Where are all the current office-holders who think the drug war has been a failure?

Tom Angell, spokesman for Law Enforcement Against Prohibition, a group of former and current police officers against the criminalization of drugs, tells The Lookout he thinks sitting politicians will have to change their tune as American public opinion changes.

"I think as this debate continues to heat up and move forward you'll start to see more and more sitting elected officials endorsing fundamental reforms," he says. Even among LEAP's membership, most are retired law enforcement officers. Only a "handful" are active-duty cops, Angell says, in part because it's difficult for police officers to question the value of laws that they risk their lives to enforce every day.

Despite the political pitfalls of challenging drug policy, a few recent signs point to something of a bipartisan consensus forming on the issue. In April, an NAACP report that said states send too many young people to jail for non-violent drug offenses picked up surprising endorsements from former GOP Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich and Grover Norquist, the conservative activist who founded Americans for Tax Reform. The report said more than a quarter of the 2.3 million American prisoners are jailed for drug offenses, which bloats the system and eats up tax dollars. Christian talk show host Pat Robertson caused a stir in December when he endorsed on "The 700 Club" faith-based rehabilitation programs instead of jail time for drug use, and even appeared to support the legalization of marijuana. "I'm not exactly for the use of drugs, don't get me wrong," he said. "I just believe that criminalizing marijuana, criminalizing the possession of a few ounces of pot--that kind of thing--it's costing us a fortune and it's ruining young people."

Joani Gammill, professional interventionist and recovering addict, intertwines her story of recovery with a depiction of one of her often harrowing and always inspiring interventions.

Over Threats, Memories, and Car Trauma

It's cold outside. There are many dry leaves on the uneven stone steps as I race from entrance to entrance trying to reach the door before Jeff locks us out.

Always wear sensible shoes. This is one of the important rules to live by as an interventionist. Early in my career I learned that running in heels is inadvisable. As with most careers, I think, it's the on-the-job training that proves to be the most valuable. And attention to what appear to be mundane details can sometimes make or break an intervention.

So in my sensible shoes I run from door to door. The sky above is gray. It's late winter. Even drunk, disheveled, and in his bathrobe, Jeff manages to reach each entrance before me, leaving me breathless and cold, locked outside along with his stressed-out family. His mom has stayed behind, and from the bottom of the driveway, where she is clutching her walker, she stares up at us, hope and worry in her eyes.

The call had come a week earlier. A frantic and personable sister telephoned from overseas. She is a professional with an extremely high-level job in a part of Europe most people will never visit.

I always try to answer my phone. I do this for two reasons. The first reason is that I assume it takes a huge amount of courage to finally pick up the phone and summon help for a loved one's chemical dependency. By the time an interventionist is called, this living hell has been brewing for a long, long time.

So finally the moment is here. The miseries, worry, and trauma can no longer continue. The interventionist is called. And she answers the phone! The caller's relief at hearing a voice at the other end of the phone is prize enough for me.

Well, not completely. I also do this for a living. Like many Americans, we are a two-income family with two kids. The person who answers the phone also gets the job. That's the second reason.

When Jeff's sister calls, I am driving up Route 2 on my way to the New Way Clinic in Crofton, Maryland. I'm scheduled to talk to a group of patients, many mandatory DUI clients. This is my second such talk, and I'm apprehensive. Sharon's call concerning her baby brother is a relief from my own self-absorbed insecurities.

Sharon describes a potentially desperate situation regarding her brother's condition. Neighbors and an ex-wife in the neighborhood report increasingly erratic behavior and isolation.

"He won't open the door completely when people stop by and won't answer his phone," Sharon reports. "He's behind in his rent and has not been seen consistently at work."

"When was the last time you spoke to him and the last time the neighbors reported seeing him?" I immediately want to know.

I sense her urgency as I feel my own escalate.

Single male alcoholics have one of the highest rates of suicide and accidental death.

"Three days."

Bad news.

Before we can talk about the logistics of an intervention, we must make sure this guy is okay. As luck, or fate, would have it, I'm driving insanely close to his house. Fate or luck--who cares, really? It's convenient, and I'm happy for it.

So from some faraway country way overseas, a desperate big sister stays on the phone and guides me to her brother's house.

He lives on a hill on a crowded and winding street back in the woods. Under other circumstances I would have called the neighborhood "quaint." Tonight it's dark and hard to see. I drive slowly past his house. I think I see the curtains move. Turning my van around for another pass, I look up and see a man peeking through the drapes.

I chuckle lightly to myself, partly out of relief that we have a sighting but also because of a comic moment: we've got ourselves a "window ninja." Paranoia is never pretty, but at times it's amusing. Either amphetamines or end-stage alcoholism can produce this paranoia, which inspires people to "guard" themselves from imaginary enemies.

Every little bit of information I'm obtaining I am cataloging for my next move on helping this guy. I'm on the job.

Sharon is still on the phone, and I ask, "Any cocaine or amphetamines in his history?"

"No," she says, "he has never been a drug guy."

I'm relieved; amphetamine psychosis can be very dangerous and unpredictable. I have found myself crawling on my belly under a locked airport bathroom stall, removing a needle from a woman's neck as she seized, her head rhythmically hitting the base of the toilet. In a beautiful seaside town, in a home so lovely it defied description, an accomplished man attempted to harm me with a power tool.

Cocaine is THE BEAST. Cocaine is an upper, a stimulant sold on the street.
But cocaine is not the enemy tonight. Alcohol is.

I stop the car and get out, with Sharon still on the phone. We have agreed to maintain verbal contact, if possible.

Jeff sees me from the window and seemingly in no time at all cracks the front door open. With only his head sticking out of the door, he stares at me.

"Hey, buddy, everything okay up there?" I ask. The phone is still to my ear, with his sister on the other end. I can hear her breathing as I reach out to her brother. I am the conduit between two siblings separated by oceans, miles, and alcoholism.

"Who are you?" Good, a rational question, I think to myself.

"I am a friend of your sister's. She's concerned that you haven't answered your phone."

"Don't feel like talking to anybody," he counters.

"Fair enough, buddy. We just wanted to make sure you're okay. I have her on the phone."

"Tell her I'm okay, okay?"

"You bet."

He closes the door. The curtain shudders as he watches me leave, back at his watch post.

I don't presume that I'm always right. And God, I hope I'm rarely wrong when it comes to getting a feel for the situation at hand. Active addiction is a dangerous game. I depend heavily on my gut reaction when confronted with addicts and alcoholics. This intuitive sense has served me well in my nursing career. No doubt the skill was honed growing up in my chaotic and challenging family.

Let me rephrase that. The family I grew up in was messed up, full of fear, and devoid of any real healthy love or guidance. I felt my mom loved me, but love alone without the benefit of good parenting left me psychologically compromised. My father, an alcoholic, showed absolutely no love at all. When he was present, the atmosphere at home was intolerable, the air heavy with tension and fear. My mother had personality changes when she drank her nightly beer. As the years progressed, she used tranquilizers as well. Her obsession with my father was complete, as she spent all her time trying to placate a man incapable of any visible joy. She offered no protection or guidance to me in my journey to adulthood. Because of my parents' problems, I was on my own from an early age. To survive emotionally and physically, I learned to read the mood of all the players. I would then calculate my next move based on the information I was collecting in my increasingly injured mind. The birth of exceptional intuition was the result; it was an unexpected gift.

I do not view myself as a victim. That ship sailed years ago with the help of my psychiatrist, Dr. James Kehler; the fellowship of ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics); and simple maturity. I am merely stating the facts.

So, cold and curbside, I quickly size up the situation with the window ninja and give the sister my assessment and options. I base my information on the history that the sister has given me and on my observations. He is on an alcohol binge. He is a heavy, daily drinker who is having a private party. He is slightly paranoid but still able to talk rationally and stand up. Standing up is good.

The option that's always important to consider is calling 911.When in doubt, this is the safest thing to do. It allows paramedics to assess the patient and make the decision as to whether the person needs to be taken to the emergency room. In Maryland, the second option is getting an emergency petition through the local courthouse for a seventy-two hour hold. Again, the patient is taken to the hospital, but this time the person is required to stay for three days for physical and psychological evaluations. Anyone, not just family, can request this of the court.

In the back of my mind, I am always balancing patient safety and my liability risk. An ugly fact of life for any health care provider is the need to remember the motto "Do no harm and don't get sued." Of course, you can do no harm and still get sued. This thought does not consume me, but I know in modern life it is a reality, and I weigh it accordingly.

"What do you think?" Sharon anxiously asks me.

"I think we have a few days to plan an intervention."

It's traumatic to be dragged off to the hospital. Generally you are put in the most uncomfortable emergency-room bed, way in back, guarded by some underpaid security guard, with crappy food and no TV. You are detoxed while there. Not fun.

If tough detoxes kept us sober, there would be no need for interventionists, rehab facilities, and recovery. I did a million detoxes. They don't stop people from using again. Somebody, I can't remember who, explained it to me this way: Detox is like mowing all the weeds down. Rehab, and especially recovery, is like pulling the weeds out by the roots.

By the time I show up to do interventions in the ER, you would think patients would be agreeable. Tired of the ER bed and having their freedom taken away, you would think that they would eagerly jump up and run off to the greener pastures of a respectable rehab.

Nope, they are pissed! With a foggy memory of cold handcuffs and a squad car dragging them to the ER and away from their beloved booze, dope, crack, and so forth, they usually loudly declare that everything is the family's fault. Counting down the seventy-two hours of prison, they call a cab and hurl obscenities at us. Because they have usually been stellar patients (ha!) in the ER, the staff eagerly calls the cab for them. I swear I've gone to the bathroom and come back and the patient has been discharged.

I do not like to do interventions in the ER.

So it begins. The sister and I plan the intervention, with her talking from airports as she makes her way from eastern Europe. It's my first private intervention. I worked for an intervention company out of Los Angeles in the beginning of my career. Now I'm on my first independent job, and it will rank as one of the hardest and most traumatic for me. It will inspire me to always have security on call. The memories it will invoke in me will take me by emotional surprise.

I do not like this man or enjoy being with him. This is new for me. There's a part of me that almost always falls in love with my fellow addict. Not this guy. Hate and fear will fill my car and my head during our time together.

Still, I must carry on professionally and get this man safely to rehab. I have a strong work ethic. Prayer will become my constant companion.

HEROS in CA recently flew F-16 fighter jets around Orange County! Albeit simulated F-16s. HEROS went to the Flightdeck Air Combat Center where they had an authentic military flight simulation providing the chance to pilot a fighter jet flight simulator. Flight-gear, training and in-flight instruction gave them an authentic and challenging aviation-themed adventure! The fact that they were able to dog fight one another for 45 minutes in the air was a healthy way to blow off some jet fuel.

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A calm mind fosters clear seeing, which is another way of saying that if we practice mindfulness, we will have less self-deception. We learn to be honest, and delusions fall away. When we sit in meditation, we observe our mind, watching the thoughts pass through, all the mental traffic honking, swerving, and cutting in. We practice holding "bare attention" toward the thoughts and feelings that arise, accepting them with kindness and non-judgment.

 --from Mindfulness and the 12 Steps