As an educator it is clear to me that the whole issue of drug use should never have been made into a criminal issue. It has always been a social/medical issue.
The ‘War on Drugs’ has muddied the waters. It was foisted on to us by America and has created a far worse situation. Instead of feeding everyone with factual information, running unbiased research and looking objectively and pragmatically at the whole drug issue we have been subjected to relentless propaganda. The result of this is that nobody believes any of it.
Back in the 1950s we did not have a drug culture. Many drugs, including cannabis, cocaine and heroin were available in chemists or on prescription. Queen Victoria used to use cannabis tincture to alleviate menstruation cramps. Heroin was available on script and ‘Junkies’ were seen as being pathetic individuals.
What followed was a pressure from America to create a more draconian criminalisation of drug use. It seemed to have a puritanical basis where anything that was pleasurable was viewed as evil. We were subjected to ludicrous propaganda films such as ‘Reefer Madness’ which were so ludicrous that they served as a recruitment exercise.
The sixties escalated the problem. The puritanical attitudes of the older generation were rejected by the younger generation – sex, drugs, alcohol and kicks were cool. None of the hip kids believed that anybody in the older generation knew what they were talking about. The use of cannabis was widespread among students and the myths were exposed as flawed.
This was unhelpful as it blurred the issue. No drugs are unharmful. It is a question of how much harm and whether the pleasure was worth the risk.
The younger generation in the sixties saw cannabis as harmless and far better than alcohol.
The debate about Cannabis on Channel 4 yesterday was far from perfect but it at least opens up the possibility of a far better logical approach to the whole issue of drugs.
Cannabis/Skunk
Cannabis is a natural plant with two active ingredients in balance with each other – Cannabinoids (CBD) and tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). It is the THC that produces the high.
Skunk is a genetically modified hybrid which has much higher levels of THC and hardly any CBD.
The THC and CBD act on centres in the brain. The CBD counters a lot of the negative effects of the THC. Hence skunk is likely to produce more detrimental effects.
Neither is highly toxic. The risk of death from overdose is miniscule.
The harm
1. Cancer risk etc. – the smoke from spliffs, particularly when mixed with tobacco, creates a risk of numerous types of cancer, heart disease and lung disease. This is obviously increased with quantity and regularity.
2. Addiction – in most people there is no addaction but with heavy use psychological addiction occurs.
3. Psychosis – There is no evidence of increased risk of psychosis with cannabis but there is a marked risk with Skunk.
4. Memory – It impairs short-term memory substantially. I have seen the effect on students and it can be catastrophic.
5. Demotivation – The drug changes behaviour and motivation in many people resulting in a loss of drive.
6. Driving – It impairs the reflexes and decision making creating a high risk for driving in a similar way to alcohol.
7. Young – young developing brains may be adversely affected and brain development retarded in certain areas
The benefits
1. Pleasurable – People smoke it because they find getting high pleasurable.
2. Social – To share a spliff with friends is a nice way of interacting and bonding
3. Sex – The pleasure during sex is enhanced
3. Relaxing – It enables people to unwind and get rid of tensions
4. Creativity – It enhances the creative process and stimulates ideas and alternative thinking
5. Music – It opens areas of the brain to both appreciate music and create it, enriching the experience.
Summary
– used in moderation, wisely, it is a pleasant and enriching experience with low risk.
– Used too regularly, or unwisely (when driving or studying or by the very young), it is highly destructive.
What is clear is that this is not an issue for politicians. All they are interested in is votes and popularity contests. This is an issue for health experts, social experts and educators.
It’s another example of how politicians mess up people’s lives! They create problems rather than solve them. The huge drug problem we have now is directly the result of their policy of criminalisation. Drugs are a health and social issue and should be treated as such.
If they were decriminalised and sold subject to health and safety regulations it would remove the more dangerous elements, enable better regulation and take it out of the hands of criminals who are financing their other criminal enterprises on the profits.
We had a day at sea to recover to recover. There were a few Boobies hovering around the boat – quite a rare sight as we had travelled around through tropical seas devoid of life. We were beginning to think every last living thing had been wiped out. It is incredibly sad to think that we are witnessing the last remnants of wildlife. Once these seas and lands were teeming with life. But I am afraid that we’ve been killing everything. Now the wildlife is scant indeed.
We sailed into Manila with the sun painting it a wan early morning orange. What a welcome! There were three fire-ships lined up to give us a squirt as we docked!
Not one but two bands and dance groups were there to greet us again. We are so popular! One was a drum group who pounded out some great rhythms while young psuedowarriors, with hardboard shields and wooden spears, performed an ethnically inspired war dance. The other was mainly made up of young girls on xylophones? – With an array of other interesting instruments with some I’d never seen before. They were excellent and I certainly enjoyed the rhythms they created.
They were guys on stilts, huge paper mache cartoon characters and a huge array of dancers. They were certainly pulling out the stops! I noticed that not all the dancers were really into it though – there were bored looks and whispered asides. Kids will be kids the world over. Performing for tourists can be tedious.
After wandering about through a grimy part of the city marvelling at the strange buses that the locals were jumping off and on. There were armed guards with big guns standing about. But undeterred we wandered off through the back streets where the electricity cables hung in bundles just as with Thailand – a spaghetti of electricity. You just hope that your lines don’t get crossed.
After wandering aimlessly for a while in the gathering heat we decided to purchase the leg power of a local and allow a pedal powered rickshaw to propel the two of us around the old city and show us the sights. He proved adept at weaving in and out of traffic and avoiding ruts. We did our fill of the old city walls, or what was left of it after them after they had been destroyed in the Second World War by the Japanese. Inside the city walls they were filming a movie – it looked like Beauty and the Beast.
The old fort was a ruin but was interesting. It housed tales of martyrs and battles long gone as well as pleasant surrounds with old gates and ponds of water-lilies. The view out across the river gave you a view of the city plus a look into the slums that they did not really want you to see.
The cathedral was interesting and picturesque. It was set on a great little square with the Presidential Palace. By some divine protection, or sheer luck, they seem to have come through the bombing fairly intact.
The Old Church and monastery was very calm and also intact. It always amazes me that the poorer and more destitute the population the more they turn to religion. I think it is the same psychological principle that causes people to turn to gambling. They have hope that some action on their part (prayer or a bet) can make everything perfect. Some hope.
We cycled past the park and river, stopped off at the museum before heading back to the ship for refreshments. The museum gave a glimpse at another life. A mere hundred years ago the place would have been unrecognisable as local Indians went about their business, fishing, harvesting and creating, following their gods and performing their rites. All swept away in the tide of time and the mad rush down the rapids into this overcrowded city. Such a short time ago. All gone. Replaced with what?
Our guide was informative and quite content to let us wander and stay as long as we wanted. We were paying him by the hour!
Talking to Rico (our powerful calved pedlar) it seems that the war on drugs, in which hundreds of thousands had been executed (for a variety of political reasons other than drugs), had done nothing to solve the problem. The people executed were all small-fry – the ones behind it were immune and there was widespread corruption. Same story the world over. Rico proudly told us that, despite being in his early thirties, he was the proud father of seven without apparently seeing any connection of this to the congestion, grinding poverty, squalor and misery all around him. Overpopulation and poverty did not seem to connect in his head. It fills me with dread.
As the sun began to set we were seen off by not one but two very large brass bands and baton twirling girls in a much more American inspired performance.
The Manilans certainly pushed the boat out! Though it was rather strange as we pulled away from the quay and they struck up Auld Langs Syne.
As we left the harbour we sailed close to the slums. They sweltered in the unrelenting heat as a multitude of people tried to eke a living out of very little.
We looked back at Manila as we steamed away. The orange glow of the setting sun gave it a shabby magnificence that belied the dirt, people sleeping on the streets, the rubbish and the rats. We all agreed that it was a fairly typical Eastern city in that respect. There was an interesting raft of colonial left overs (mainly Spanish), a sense of decay, overpopulation and poverty along with some opulent wealth all boiled together in the heat.
We waved goodbye to the locals who had gathered at the end of the quay to wave us off.
Our second stop in Borneo was Kota Kinabula. We sailed in from the South China Sea to check out what is a small new city. The original was almost completely flattened during the Second World war.
We were welcomed ashore by two girls in costume and two groups of musicians and dancers. They certainly wanted our custom. The first was a set of dancers in costume supported by a tradition band with gongs. The second were dancers representing the native Indian population. The guys were dressed in skimpy bare-chested costume with wooden swords, shields and tall feathered headdresses. The girls wore brightly embroidered tunics and dresses with a little fetching headband with a single feather. They did a fearsome dance that was meant to be menacing but I couldn’t help noticing one of the guys vacillating between embarrassment and finding it very amusing.
The irony was that most of the native Indians had been displaced by the incomers.
No buses this time. We walked straight in. We set up the path into the hills to get a view over the city. The path led up through thick jungle with insects, birds and animals trilling and rustling. The views were good.
We headed back along the promenade to the fishing quay. Across the water we could see an extensive stilted village with a backdrop of jungle. It looked more ramshackle and rough and ready compared with the similar village we had seen in Banda Sera Begawan although it was a lot more extensive.
We jumped a taxi to take us to the Mosques and other major new buildings. The architecture was unique.
Back on the boat we looked at the stilted village a bit more closely and sailed past the other beautiful looking mosque.
The frustration with visiting Borneo was that we were skimming the edges, visiting the cities and not getting into the interior. I wanted to be where the wildlife was – in the real Borneo.
After leaving Kota Kinabula we headed up the coast of Borneo with a strong warm breeze in our face and a glass in our hands. On one side of the boat the shore of Borneo slowed edged past with massive volcanoes peeking through the reefs of circling clouds while to the other side the sun was putting on a show as it sank between various islands.
The wondrous day of the albatrosses was a day to remember for ever. As we travelled north and the days cooled the wild-life changed. We lost the boobies but we gained Giant Petrels. With their seven foot wingspan they were impressive birds but I wanted to see the fabled albatross. The desire was like a weight around my neck. I ached to get a single good photo of a real albatross. They were like fabled beasts.
We saw a number of them in the distance, gliding on the wind and then a few settled on the water looking like overgrown gulls, but never one close up. I was beginning to think it would never happen. But then the most incredible event occurred.
I had my breakfast and went out of deck to find there were five or six great southern albatrosses riding the strong breeze alongside the ship. My wish had come true. I studied these magnificent birds with delight as they effortlessly stretched out their eleven foot wings and instinctive felt the nuance of the breeze. Hundreds of miles from land these incredible birds were masters of the currents in the air. Like huge organic gliders they responded to every gust and intuitively adjusted feathers and wing to control their flight. It was awe-inspiring to witness.
They were awesome.
As the day wore on the number of these beautiful birds increased. It seemed that every albatross in the whole southern hemisphere was making a bee-line for our ship. They swooped over the deck so close you felt you could reach out and touch them. They hung in the air matching their speed to that of the ship so that they appeared stationary. They swooped and rose on invisible roller-coasters in our wake.
More and more appeared until the sky behind the boat was a mass of wheeling birds.
I could not believe it. They did not appear to be feeding. They just had come together in an orgy of motion. Unlike the boobies they were not using us as a source of food. Perhaps it was just curiosity?
All day they were with us. I estimate that their numbers were in hundreds. I not only had my desire but something that was almost unbelievable. I asked the bird-folk. They all assured me that they had never seen or heard of anything quite so incredible.
The day of the albatrosses was a wondrous spectacle of the kind that you only get to witness once in a lifetime. I was sure glad that I had been there when it happened.
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I needed something uplifting and bouncy. A bit of New Orleans pop/R&B/Rock ‘n’ Roll fits the bill. Nothing is more bouncy and infectious that the Clowns.