For a country that prides itself on being the leader of the world—mainly in things that are gross and embarrassing, like military spending—we are falling farther and farther from the finish line for federal cannabis decriminalization.
North America is now an ice cream sandwich of federally legal recreational cannabis, with the United States like a glob of curdled milk between the cookies of Canada and Mexico. Despite California, and the Bay Area itself, pioneering medical marijuana and the fight for legal and equitable access this side of the Atlantic, the Biden administration has backpedaled on its earlier promises to reschedule and legalize cannabis. The collective has even fired White House employees for admitting to past use, which frankly reeks of … what is that smell … hypocrisy?
Cannabis was brought to the Americas by Spanish colonists, where it has been grown for textiles and for medicinal and recreational purposes as a result who likely confused it with hemp.
But while we continue to fight for states’ to pass legislation and free the tens of thousands still serving time for weed, Canada gave itself the green light in 2018. Earlier this year, Mexico’s Supreme Court decided in an 8–3 ruling that stated among other things, that it was unconstitutional to criminalize recreational cannabis consumption and cultivation — with plenty of asterisks. Communities both in Mexico and the United States are ecstatic, excited, relieved, for the potential a ruling like this has. (Mexico prohibited cannabis as a substance 100 years ago and with a population of approximately 130 million.)
It’s the biggest nation so far to pursue federal decriminalization, but what does it mean going forward, and how did we get here? Bear with me.
Turns out, Mexico’s Supreme Court has been doing a majority of the legislative political lifting. Cannabis use, cultivation, possession, and even just vocal support have been outlawed and criminalized in Mexico since 1920. Possession in small amounts has been allowed since 2009, and the Court struck down recreational cannabis prohibition back in 2018, with medical marijuana being legalized in 2017.
The expectation was that Congress and President Obrador would amend the policies and laws that contradict the ruling—a.k.a what deemed cannabis illegal, within 90 days. But they didn’t, nor did they adhere to the multiple extensions given by the Court. So now, years later, Mexico’s Supreme Court got fed up and said: enough, let the people smoke. Ok, not quite, but personal use cultivation and possession no longer require protection from the law. Yippee, right?
Well, kind of.
A national newspaper poll conducted in 2020 indicated a majority of Mexican adults were against cannabis legalization. The word marijuana carries a stigma with murky origins, for some representing the demonization of Mexican people, specifically the indigenous and lower class communities.
Much of this pollution on public opinion was perpetuated in the news media as far back as the 19th century, where cannabis use began popping up in news stories on crime and violence. With prohibition came an increase of violence and drug trafficking at the U.S.–Mexico border, and significant corruption and malpractice by the U.S. military. Bureaucrat Harry Anslinger, the father of U.S. cannabis prohibition as the first to lead the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, even called them and their music “satanic.”
Mexico officially launched its own national war on drugs to confront cartel activity and violence in 2006, a decision that has cost over 300,000 lives thus far, including multiple federal employees.
Prior to prohibition, cannabis had gone through waves of scrutiny and acceptance. Historian Isaac Campos, author of Home Grown: Marijuana and the Origins of Mexico’s War on Drugs, told Time magazine that by the 19th century, recreational use of cannabis was “associated with danger and indigenous Mexico, then in these environments associated with violence and danger. Then this mixes with a bunch of other stuff … that led people to think a drug like marijuana could trigger violent, savage responses in its users. Then all of this mixes with sensationalism in the press.”
Cannabis was brought to the Americas by Spanish colonists, where it has been grown for textiles and for medicinal and recreational purposes as a result who likely confused it with hemp. While there are few definitive sources on how the indigenous peoples of the continent acquired and incorporated the plant, a report by the priest and scholar José Antonio Alzate in 1772, titled “Memoria sobre el uso que hacen los indios de los pipiltzintzintlis,” lauded the plant for its medicinal potential and called on its acceptance by doctors. He did, however, condemn the indigenous population for using it to get intoxicated.
Alvaro Portillo, the Latin America director for the Bay Area Latino Cannabis Alliance, says the stigma is deep-seated and extends to many Central and South American countries beyond Mexico. Born and raised in El Salvador, Portillo recalls cannabis being compared to crack or heroin, and using it often turned youth into pariahs, vulnerable to outside and corruptive influences.
“It’s not like here that we hear like, ‘Oh, yeah, legalize it,’” he says. “The approach is completely different, so oppressive; it’s a different story and San Francisco is like an alternate reality. The problem has been making it look like it’s something bad for such a long time.”
The aforementioned survey, however, does indicate that Mexcian voters who skew millennials and identify with “the left” side of politics have higher support, and the left-wing Morena Party has held a political and parliamentary majority for three years now. Portillo says he sympathizes with those who are wary of the plant — he himself didn’t feel comfortable being open about its use until he entered the medical marijuana market in San Francisco in 2012, working with the now-shuttered Love Shack dispensary.
The Court’s ruling is exciting to Portillo, particularly clauses that would give priority to cannabis licenses for small farmers and indigenous communities, though the bill has been amended since it was passed in Mexico’s lower house, the Chamber of Deputies. He calls it an “experiment” in addressing crime in tandem with equity for vulnerable communities.
“It’s a reflection of how we’re gonna learn a lot in Latin America from it,” he says. “The people didn’t vote on it like we do here in the States, they did it just to try to fight crime and try to take the cards away from criminal groups and try to give it to people. The end goal is to prevent violence and to fight the War on Drugs and what that all means, so, we will see.”
While President Obrador has spoken of a multi-month rollout for licenses, Portillo is confident that, like it goes here in the Bay Area, it will take years. It’s also unclear if states and local municipalities, like in American states and counties, will be able to opt in or out of issuing licenses.
Javier Armas, who co-founded BALCA and has previously lived in Mexico but was born and grew up in Oakland, sees the last century as an intentional association of cannabis with other Schedule 1 substances that disproportionately affected communities of color.
“Opium and cocaine were political issues for a long time. There is an international setting to create a prohibition on those for public health reasons, but cannabis got thrown in there, and the U.S. was pushing for it; it’s very intertwined with the prohibition of all drugs, which really shaped our phase of massive incarceration in the United States and all around the world,” he says. “The 1937 American prohibition sealed the deal and around the world cannabis was very illegal. There are decades of built-up misinformation, racism, xenophobia, Western expansion politics.”
Both Armas and Portillo agree with the experts in new stories that this was a political decision to reduce crime and violence in the country. Cannabis remains one of the most trafficked scheduled substances at the border, but the DEA’s National Drug Threat Assessment for 2020 indicates that cannabis trafficking has dropped 81% at the Southwest Border since 2013.
Mexico officially launched its own national war on drugs to confront cartel activity and violence in 2006, a decision that has cost over 300,000 lives thus far, including multiple federal employees.
This isn’t a decision that’s anticipating potential tax dollars, but a life or death situation. The Bay Area has been at the forefront of cannabis legalization and equity, with Latinx communities equipped to forge international bonds. It’s too early to tell what the rest of Mexico’s government will do to interpret and apply the Court’s ruling, and Portillo notes that it may take longer for local activists in Mexico to feel comfortable identifying themselves with cannabis publicly. BALCA meanwhile is working on its next fundraiser, next newsletter, and cannabis-adjacent projects, like supporting efforts in Colombia to pan toxic pesticides.
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If the last year and a half have taught us anything, it’s that change is both swift and slow. It’s too soon to say what shape the butterfly effects this decision will have, but for now, it could be a good one.
