AKA , A War on the People by Drugs
The so-called “War on Drugs” was never truly a war on substances. It was, from its inception, a politically motivated attack on marginalized communities, framed under the guise of public safety. Launched officially in the United States by President Richard Nixon in the early 1970s, this campaign was steeped in conservative Christian moralism and right-wing ideology—not science, public health, or pragmatic reasoning.
Nixon’s administration justified the war as a response to rising drug use, but in reality, it was a convenient tool for political repression. As his aide John Ehrlichman would later admit, the administration intentionally associated drugs with two groups: Black Americans and anti-war leftists. By criminalizing drugs, they could disrupt these communities, arrest their leaders, raid their homes, and dominate their public discourse—all under the cloak of legality.
The underlying belief was illiberal and paternalistic: that people are too unintelligent or morally weak to be trusted with drugs, and therefore the state must intervene and control personal choices. But in truth, the war on drugs was a war on people—particularly poor, non-white, and politically inconvenient people—waged in the name of moral superiority.
It was not a war based on science, reason, or compassion. It was, and remains, a political stunt to maintain control.
Drug Policy in New Zealand: Imported Failure
New Zealand followed the American example by passing the Misuse of Drugs Act in 1975. This legislation, heavily influenced by the U.S. model, gave the police a broad and blunt instrument to crack down on drug use, often using it as a proxy to target marginalized communities.
Making drugs illegal does not eliminate them; it creates a black market. This black market becomes a lucrative arena for gangs, which thrive under prohibition. With inflated prices due to scarcity and risk, gangs compete violently over territory and customers. The outcome is not safety or public health but an escalation in violence, addiction, and incarceration.
Both the U.K. and the U.S. now have prison systems bloated with non-violent drug offenders—lives ruined for possession or low-level dealing. These are crimes that, in many modern countries, wouldn’t even exist. Meanwhile, actual health-based drug treatment remains underfunded and underutilized.
New Zealand’s Missed Opportunity for Reform
Unlike countries geographically close to major drug-producing regions, New Zealand’s relative isolation meant that traditional drug supply chains—like those from Latin America or Afghanistan—were less accessible. Instead, synthetic alternatives like methamphetamine became dominant.
This led to another chapter in the saga. In the early 2000s, a musician named Matt Bowden took an innovative approach. He developed and sold BZP (benzylpiperazine) as a legal, safer party pill. His aim was to provide a controlled, regulated alternative to dangerous street drugs. For a brief time, the New Zealand government acted with rare sanity: they allowed BZP to be sold legally, monitored its effects, and acknowledged that harm reduction might be more effective than criminalization.
But this rational approach was short-lived. As media reports began showing long queues outside shops selling party pills, moral panic took hold. Politicians, afraid of looking “soft on drugs,” reversed course and banned the substances—even though banning would inevitably push users back into the hands of gangs and underground chemists.
Is the World’s Weirdest Drug Market in New Zealand? | The War on Drugs
The Science and Evidence: Johann Hari and the Human Reality
One of the most compelling critiques of the War on Drugs comes from Johann Hari in his book Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs. Hari spent two years traveling across the globe, investigating drug policies and their effects in places with the harshest punishments, as well as those with the most lenient, health-based approaches.
He found that the issue was never about drugs—it was about human despair. In countries like Portugal, where all drugs were decriminalized in 2001, the result was not a surge in addiction but a decline in drug use and a major drop in incarceration rates. They focused on support services, job programs, and mental health—treating addiction as a social and health issue, not a criminal one.
Hari revisited the infamous “rat park” experiments. In earlier studies, rats alone in cages chose cocaine-laced water until they overdosed. But when rats were placed in enriching environments—rat parks—with other rats, toys, and food, they largely ignored the drug-laced water. Translated to humans: people who live stable, fulfilling lives are far less likely to abuse drugs. The real addiction epidemic, Hari argues, is one of isolation, trauma, and hopelessness—not simply chemical hooks.
A Proven Failure, Still Defended
The War on Drugs has failed by every reasonable metric. It has failed to reduce drug use. It has failed to stop violence. It has fueled gang warfare, overfilled prisons, and wasted billions in law enforcement budgets. It has disproportionately harmed Indigenous communities, ethnic minorities, and the poor. And despite all of this, politicians—often funded by industries that benefit from mass incarceration or by fear-driven constituents—continue to defend it.
As Guyon Espiner's documentary Wasted highlights in the New Zealand context, the consequences of this war are visible in broken lives and wasted public funds. The only people who still benefit are gangs, corrupt officials, and reactionary politicians who capitalize on fear.
This isn't new. It's a replay of the Prohibition Era in the U.S., when alcohol was banned, leading to the rise of organized crime, backyard distilleries, and poorly made, dangerous liquor. When Prohibition ended, alcohol-related harm decreased. The same would happen with drugs if we treated them the same way—regulated, tested, and removed from the hands of criminals.
So Why Does It Continue?
Why does this failed war still go on?
Because it serves power. Because it allows governments to target dissidents, minorities, and the poor. Because it fuels media-driven moral panics that win elections. Because pharmaceutical companies, private prisons, and law enforcement agencies profit from it. And because politicians are too cowardly—or too corrupt—to stand up and say: We were wrong.
Nearly everyone who studies the issue—from journalists to doctors to former police officers—agrees: this war has done more harm than good. The only people left defending it are either ideologically bankrupt, financially compromised, or willfully ignorant.
It’s time to end the war—not just on drugs, but on people.
In case youre wondering what drugs we are talking about watch here
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