A century-old habit

While conducting an investigation for the Evening News newspaper into the problems caused by drug use in the West End, a reporter observed a young female cocaine addict with pity and disdain; she was ‘a frail-looking creature of about twenty in a flimsy frock that left three-quarters of her back bare. During the intervals of her vivacious dancing in an underground room, she gave herself over to almost hysterical attacks of inane, purposeless laughter, and now and then stroked the man sitting with her’.

One would be mistaken to presume that this reporter was wandering through the streets of London today. This observation was not made inside one of the fashionable haunts of modern day party goers, but almost 100 years ago, in the same area, in 1922. It is ironic, given the scrupulousness with which drug legislation has been formed, reformed, and reformed again with meticulous attention by modern day governments, that this remark, made on the cusp of the introduction of cocaine prohibition, remains accurate so many years later. Those interested in the development of cocaine within society should read Marek Kohn’s Dope Girls, (from where this example is taken), a stimulating and thorough account of how drug criminalisation and restriction is indicative of far more than simply a desire to limit substance use, instead shedding light on wider social concerns. The book tracks the development of cocaine as a social problem, from its first emergence in the late 18th century, freely available from chemists, through to the beginning of prohibition laws and overdose scandals by the early 1920's.

The premise of Kohn’s writing is that current drug legislation is not functioning and that drug prohibition has never really worked. It is hard to dispute that those ‘dope clubs’ of old have certainly not simply been swept away by the force of law. Indeed, the rush of western travellers to the newly established Bolivian Coke bar is testimony to the remaining popularity of the drug. A more cynical observer would note that one need not travel as far as Bolivia to observe that cocaine remains in fashion. Take a walk around the clubs of London, or indeed any busy city, and it’s easy to see that there is no real change from the cocaine clubs and drug parties of pre-prohibition England. Despite hefty legislation, with cocaine now classified as a Class A substance, drug use continues to flourish amongst young people. Stastics show that among 16 to 24-year-olds the number of users increased fivefold between 1996 and 2009.

So cocaine has retained, and even increased, its youthful market. Just as the 1920’s liberated flappers ‘powdered their noses’, so to do the young people of today. It is in the same cloud of naive ‘glamour’ and intrigue of the 1920's that cocaine is still perceived today. Back in 2005, on the brink of the infamous Kate Moss cocaine scandal, Jonathan Duffy of the BBC was correct when he observed “while the media overtly abhors it, in the very same breath it laps up the glamorised celebrity culture that cocaine helps perpetuate”. Five years later, the situation remains the same. Indeed, the situation has been the same for the last 90 years. Although, it may be an embellishment to compare the late Ms Billie Carlton, the 1920's starlet whose cocaine fuelled death sparked media hype for years to follow, with one of the many infamous tabloid fodder of today, such as Lindsay Lohan, Amy Winehouse, Mischa Barton (the list goes on), one cannot deny there are clear similarities. All in the public eye, all leading a ‘celebrity’ lifestyle, all followed closely by the media, their fame and notoriety augmented by their unfortunate addiction.

Beyond these high profile junkies, what is the pattern with ordinary users? Early 20th century accounts focus almost wholly upon the female user: prostitutes, actresses, and flappers. These were youthful, newly ‘liberated’ women who, with their new status and means, could afford this exciting new habit. The only group deemed equally as threatening to the existing social order were foreigners, and drug coverage of this period is remarkable for the levels of xenophobia which it demonstrates. Prohibition measures taken against drug users were, consequently, closely tied with controlling and manipulating these unpredictable and troublesome social groups. Even today, there is a case to be made that drug law stands mainly as an attempt by authorities to control 'delinquent' social groups. In pre-second world war England these were broadly young women and immigrants; more recently these groups have more complex definitions. The xenophobia of the early twentieth century against Chinese opium smokers, and black traders such as the infamous Edgar Manning, has been replaced by a public fear of illegal immigrants, violent gang members in inner-cities and dangerous criminals who use drug sales to assist other crimes. Yet the key focus on these prohibition laws remains, as ever, the young.

The fact remains that the position of cocaine within society has remained worryingly stable. It stays as a social drug, a ‘glamorous’ choice for partygoers and one of the many beneficiaries of those individuals who engage in conspicuous consumption. Take, for example, its association with city bankers in the 1980's; a similar correlation was made with the same vigour only 60 years earlier with another rising social group - young, liberated women who had benefited in status and opportunities due to vacancies created by lack of men. If cocaine is perceived in similar ways despite restrictive legislation, how can we expect to see marked changes in consumption patterns?Indeed, it may seem an oversimplification to demand a ‘social’ answer to this problem, but the truth stands that a ‘legislative’ solution simply isn’t working. The Times’ Richard Ford recently summarised a sentiment of this kind, stating that we must challenge "the 'champagne' image of cocaine" which "has helped to make it part of regular weekend activities, such as a night at the pub or at a club".

As long as the ‘dope girls’ and ‘celebrity users’, like those of the 1920's remain, we must question why failing and antiquated measures of prohibition stay in place? Usage and perception remains the same, illegal consumption and sale endure, so why do we continue to laugh in the face of those who advocate law reform, let alone legalisation? If the status of cocaine use has remained constant since it initially rose to prominence in the early twentieth century, indeed, with the ramifications of its existence being worse than ever, how can a viable case be made to suggest that the numerous prohibition methods taken in the meantime have been functioning correctly? The drug laws we have today are the children of the rushed and makeshift solutions put in place in the face of a spiralling situation in the early twentieth century.

To solve the problem of this dangerous and highly addictive substance, we must think not to the future, but to the past, and look back to those ‘dope girls’ of the 1920's, for the shadow of their habits remain today. The way the drug is used has persisted, the types of users have persisted, and perhaps most crucially the rhetoric of media coverage has persisted. Legislation has, therefore, for the most part been redundant. Targeting supply has failed, and targeting usage has failed. We must instead target society as whole, and try to radically reform the manner in which cocaine is perceived and communicated, especially within the media. Only then can we expect to break this century-old habit.