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UK: Mike Trace - How I lost my drugs war

Johann Hari

The Independent

Tuesday 30 Mar 2004

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While serving as Tony Blair's deputy drugs tsar, his enlightened policies
were copied around the world. So why was Mike Trace hounded from his job,
and vilified as a dangerous extremist? He tells his extraordinary story for
the first time to Johann Hari


The story of Mike Trace's rise and fall is a parable of how drugs policy is
formulated. He is one of the most widely respected narcotics experts in the
world today. He has worked both at the Ground Zero of drug prohibition,
with homeless addicts on the streets of London, and at the very top of the
system, as Britain's deputy drugs tsar and as head of demand reduction at
the United Nations.

When it came to formulating policy, Trace made a fatal error. His
conversation is jammed with reference to academic studies and pilot
programmes; he is a man addicted to evidence and hard facts. And there is
no room for such a man in the distant corridors where drug prohibition is
upheld today.

His story begins in Centrepoint on London's Shaftesbury Avenue in the early
1980s. "When I started working there, as a night worker, Centrepoint was
basically the first place runaways to London ended up," he says. "We just
tried to keep them out of harm's way for one, two, three nights. It quickly
became clear to me that most of them were sufferers of abuse as children,
and all of them came from classic multiply-deprived backgrounds. They were
trying to escape their terrible experiences any way they could, usually
with drugs.

"That time of my life gave me an attitude towards drug use that has always
stayed with me. It's the symptom of other problems, especially social
deprivation. Whenever I would hear people further up the system saying that
drug use was a moral failing, evidence of degeneracy of some kind, I knew
they were wrong. Once you've seen what happens on the streets, you aren't
going to sign up to attacks on drug users."

Trace pioneered drug rehabilitation in British prisons in the 1980s, and
turned the charity RAPT (Rehabilitation for Addicted Prisoners Trust) into
a serious lobbying outfit as well as a provider of treatment. By the 1990s
he was, in his own words, "the drug treatment, voluntary-sector type on all
the government committees". When the Blair government, still humming
"Things Can Only Get Better", decided in 1997 to appoint a drugs tsar to
co-ordinate policy, Trace was an obvious candidate for the role.

"We all knew the Government had to appoint a policeman to please the Daily
Mail readers, but to their credit the word went out that they wanted to
balance that out with a deputy who was an expert from the field," he says.
"They appointed me because they clearly understood that there is depth and
complexity to the drugs issue."

At first, Trace insists, he was happy to work alongside Keith Hellawell,
whose time as drugs tsar is now widely regarded as a failure - a period of
ineffective, Draconian measures that were poorly thought through. But in
the beginning, there was no clash of philosophies. "We both saw ourselves
then as moderate liberals on drugs," he says. "We were both quite
managerial about it: we believed that the best use of taxpayers' money
wasn't to chase hundreds of thousands of cannabis users but to concentrate
on addressing addiction problems and to offer treatment to users."

"During that first year, Keith was a pleasure to work with. We got on
well," he says. "On the tricky political issue - what to do about cannabis
- Keith and I were in agreement. He was quite liberal, and so was I. But we
realised that the political situation in 1998 meant that the government
didn't want us to move too fast on cannabis, because they were worried
about a Middle England backlash. We agreed to put the issue on the
back-burner for the first couple of years and concentrate instead on the
drugs that do most harm."

Together they put together a broad policy document, "Tackling Drugs To
Build a Better Britain", which was published in 1998. It advocates a harm
reduction approach to addiction, and led to a considerable increase in the
number of NHS prescriptions of methadone. The policy slashed crime rates.
"I'm proud of that," Trace says. "It's now used around the world as a
model. OK, there's a lot of mothering and apple pie in it, but it was a
good plan. That was a good year. We were achieving things."

Everything seemed to be progressing well, but Hellawell's politics began to
shift. "As the years went by, Keith obviously read the political runes and
changed his mind. He was primarily motivated by politics, not policy.
Somewhere along the line he decided that it would be better if he became a
cannabis hardliner. He was gradually giving up on the principles we'd
agreed to when we started, and I began to get quite cynical about his
approach to the job."

Trace feels the change in government attitude towards drugs mirrored New
Labour's drift to the right on a number of issues. "From 1997 to 1999, the
discussions around the Cabinet sub-committee were quite good," he says.
"They were about what resources we could invest to reduce the harm caused
by drugs: sensible stuff. The New Labour enthusiasm in the early years was
pretty genuine. We were sitting around with Gordon Brown and Tony Blair,
and they were genuinely asking what the best way to reduce harm and reduce
crime might be. Those were good years to be in government. People were
open-minded."

"But then," he says, sipping hard on his coffee, "drugs policy drifted off
and crime and punishment became an obsession, at the expense of harm
reduction. They lost their nerve in 1999, and from then on it was all
downhill."

Trace lost his job when the drugs tsar experiment was scrapped in 2000.
Within a few years he was being accused of leading a dark internal
conspiracy to subvert drugs policy at the very highest levels.

So what is his real attitude to drugs policy? Certainly, most legalisers I
know do not regard him as one of their own. "To paint me as an extreme
liberaliser - the way that the Daily Mail and other papers have - is just
bizarre," he chuckles.

"All I say is we need to acknowledge a pretty basic fact: that it is not a
good deal for the taxpayer when the police spend billions of pounds trying
desperately to enforce the drugs laws against every last user. It's just
not a good return on that investment. We've been trying that for 40 years,
and it's clearly not working very well. I have to start from that premise."

"Nobody really knows what the best way to proceed is once you admit that,"
he says, "but I think the best route for Western democracies - who have
high levels of drug use - is to admit that there is now a very large body
of evidence that shows you aren't going to bring rates of use down through
harsh penalties. Nor can education and prevention - no matter how good it
is - end the problem. We just have to be honest about that. The evidence is
overwhelming."

"You can't end drug use and you can't educate it away," he concludes. "If
either of those tactics had a proven track record I would be a convert, but
they don't work. What you can do, though, is reduce the harm that drugs do.
So we need to move our investment away from enforcement and into harm
reduction. The best use for our limited resources is targeted interventions
on the most problematic use."

With this in mind he was approached in summer 2002 by Antonio Maria Costa,
the new head of the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC). Costa
wanted Trace to run his demand reduction programme, a position that would
put him at the very heart of global drug strategy. It seemed, finally, that
Trace had a real chance to effect radical change.

UNDOC had been a hardline prohibitionist outfit for decades, thanks to
heavy pressure from America. The UN has had a formal commitment to reducing
demand for drugs (and harm to users) since the late 1980s, but in practice
all its efforts have been focused on policing, attacking criminal gangs and
fumigating the drugs crops of very poor farmers in the Third World.

Trace's appointment seemed like a real turning point. Lauded by Costa as
the new face of UN drugs policy, it seemed as though a small crack had
appeared in the disastrous strategy of global prohibition. "I applied the
same principles to the international scene that I applied at the British
level," he says. "Indeed, it was even more stark at the UN. The
organisation has invested hundreds of billions of dollars over the years in
an attempt to eradicate a market in drugs. The market was small when it
started and it's massive now. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it
was time to reassess those tactics. To me, that didn't mean that we needed
to dismantle the system entirely. It just meant that we needed an honest
reassessment."

Just as it seemed that these sensible arguments were making headway, Trace
was annihilated - by the Daily Mail. The newspaper published e-mails from
the year before he started at the UN. It used them with characteristic
sobriety. "Is This A Sinister Conspiracy To Get The World Hooked?", an
entirely sane headline asked.

Trace, it seemed, was not an honest and internationally-respected expert
concerned with reducing harm. No - he "was pulling the strings of a huge
operation in which international activists were agitating covertly to
manipulate government and public opinion... [and leading] a sinister
liberal elite that has made a dope of Blunkett and [wants to] subvert UN laws".

The truth does not quite so closely resemble a Freddie Forsyth novel. After
losing his job as deputy drugs tsar, Trace had been approached by
billionaire philanthropist George Soros to put together plans for an
international campaigning group which would lobby for the liberalisation of
drugs policies.

"The Mail selectively quoted what I had said over the year I had been
discussing this with Soros, to present it as some kind of conspiracy to
undermine world order," he says. "Unfortunately my style gives ammunition
to fire against me. I said jokingly in one e-mail to a friend - when I was
trying to decide whether to take the UN job - that I might go for it so I
could be a 'fifth columnist'. That was then quoted by the Mail as if it had
been said seriously, as if there really was some organised conspiracy. It
was completely insane."

Trace was gone within a week of the Mail's story being published. The idea
that there is a liberal elite manipulating drugs policy is preposterous,
the idea that Trace was masterminding it would be hilarious had it not had
such devastating consequences for the "war on drugs".

"Basically, the truth is exactly the opposite," Trace says with weary
exasperation. "I was a total exception. The vast majority of people behind
the scenes are hardliners. At the top of the EU, at the top of the UN, at
the heart of British government, I was the only person who had ever
actually worked with drug users.

"At a typical UN meeting, four of the people round the table would be
professional supply-side policemen or customs officials," he continues.
"The other three would be diplomats. Not surprisingly, if you get people
like that running the policy, they won't prioritise minimising harm for
drug users and enhancing public health. The idea that they were all on side
with me is science fiction."

Trace has not been replaced, and UNODC has been "restructured". The plan
for a new world of has been indefinitely shelved. Costa's political capital
is spent. The politics have reverted to what they were before: aggressive,
all-out prohibition. "The people who don't want a review and don't want any
reassessment of the current failing policies have won the diplomatic
battle," Trace says. "We're back to the old mindset: anybody who questions
the current policy is a friend of the drug dealer."

These days, Trace runs the Blenheim Project, a west-London centre for
heroin addicts. Although he believes that incremental improvements in drugs
policy will happen one day, he looks defeated.

The moral of Trace's story is stark: anybody with an interest in evidence
as opposed to prohibitionist dogma, anybody with an belief in protecting
drug users rather than screaming at them, is barred from formulating drug
policy. If they get too close to power, they will be howled and beaten and
bullied away. It appears that there is no place for rational thinking in
the world of drug prohibition.

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