Drugs, Cakes and Naked Apes

Dreams of legalisation are a utopian fantasy

The cocaine industry version of an HR meeting. ‘Welcome to the Layer Cake, son.’

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Layer Cake is one of my favourite crime novels, being the misadventures of an unnamed drug-dealer in a coke-dusted 1990’s London. Written by JJ Connolly, the book celebrates its 25th anniversary this year. The 2004 movie, starring Daniel Craig, is a rare example of a triumphant book-to-silver-screen adaptation. So much so, it’s become one of my favourite crime movies too (I listened to the soundtrack writing this article, in fact). Funnily enough, a few villains I’ve met also cite ‘Layer Cake’ as one their favourites.

(Warning - this piece contains spoilers for a 21-year old movie)

In the opening sequence, Craig’s character imagines a world where narcotics have been legalised. Strolling through an imaginary department store, shelves displaying cocaine and LSD in designer packaging, he offers this soliloquy:

Always remember that one day all this drug monkey business will all be legal. They won't leave it to people like me. Not once they figure out how much money is in it. Not millions. Fucking BILLIONS. Recreational Drugs PLC: "Giving People What They Want." Good times today, stupor tomorrow. But this is now. So while prohibition lasts, make hay while the sun shines.

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As I mentioned, this year marks Layer Cake’s 25th anniversary. 25 years. And guess what? The ‘drug monkey business’ is stronger than ever.

I recently wrote about ‘county lines’ drug-dealing, the coalface of the UK’s narcotics industry, for UnHerd. Not unreasonably, several readers commented: why don’t we, finally, grasp the nettle of drugs legalisation? Problem solved, right?

It’s an evergreen argument. Seductive in its apparent simplicity. In fact, it’s such a well-worn topic, I almost didn’t bother writing this article. Yet it’s a topic that never dies. It demands attention, although I was never a drugs-squad type. I found myself intrigued by more… esoteric crimes. As a jaded detective from the Met’s SCD7 once told me about his work, ‘it’s just drugs and guns, man. It’s nothing but drugs and guns.’

Police officers, even criminal esoterica enthusiasts, can’t avoid drugs. It’s like working in an abattoir and trying not to get blood on your boots. Drugs are everywhere. The bloody hook on which modern criminality hangs. You knew that already, but policing gives you a certain perspective on ‘Drugs PLC’ as imagined by Layer Cake’s protagonist (and many in the vocal pro-legalisation lobby).

So here are my two pennies. Those, incidentally, of a failed libertarian. Someone who joined the police and found himself mugged by reality.

Retail Class ‘A’, as depicted in the movie ‘Layer Cake.’

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Disclaimer. I’m not a drugs worker, expert or counsellor. I’m certainly not a chemist, pharmacist or mind-altering substances aficionado (although I’ve seen how easy it is to knock up crack in a microwave). I’m simply offering an opinion based on personal experience of drugs-related crime, drug-users, and dealers.

As for drugs? I’ve never used illegal substances. I’ve never smoked cigarettes, so cannabis was a non-starter. Besides, I fucking well hate the stink of weed. As for the others? Coke was an unaffordable champagne drug when I was a student. Heroin was for losers and soon-to-be-dead rock stars. Ecstasy? The narcotic of choice for wankers dancing around in fields. Then, after joining the Job, I decided it wasn’t-quite-cricket for a copper to be sorted for E’s and Wizz. Besides, once you’ve seen a dead junkie rotting on a mattress, it kinda puts you off the whole ‘Trainspotting’ lark.

To this day, I’ve never tried gear. I get my buzz from Guinness, decent French red, the occasional glass of Hennessey and talking bollocks with my ex-Job mates. And, of course, teeing-up a few moronic senior ‘coppers’ via this platform (thanks to the Sauron’s Eye of the Adler Network, I know some of them are readers).

So yes, the status quo suits my lifestyle preferences. I’m well aware of my biases. Nonetheless, I genuinely respect the sentiments behind the legalisation argument. If we could ‘solve’ the problems of addiction and drug-related crime via a consequence-free future of glossy boutiques flogging designer LSD, MDMA, opioids and coke? It’s, like, no different from booze, man.

Right?

Sadly, I suspect it wouldn’t work out quite like that.

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First, some ethics

I’m a crap libertarian. I imagine it’s like being a lapsed Catholic, but without as much guilt. I suppose I’m what they’d call nowadays ‘libertarian-adjacent.’ I generally believe which substances people choose to consume are none of my business. Ditto who they have consensual sex with, what they say online and off, or which deity they might or might not choose to worship. They can be vegans. Do CrossFit. Wear lycra and ride bicycles slowly around the countryside every Sunday. Even put pineapple on a perfectly decent pizza.

See? I’m super-tolerant. A believer in a nearly-extinct type of Englishness, perhaps; your home is your castle and all that jazz. An England of Dick Emery campness and Cynthia Payne kink. I’m tickled by the idea of suburban, bowler-hatted civil servants catching the 07.30 to Waterloo… after a debauched evening of PVC-clad nipple clampage. But not in the local park, please, and certainly not in front of the kids. That’s not on, is it? Such nuanced tolerance is increasingly old-fashioned in these spiteful and censorious times, but I’m quietly confident it will come back into fashion.

However, I’ve always remembered what my ‘A’ Level English lecturer told me many, many years ago. ‘Much great literature concerns itself with themes of licence versus restraint.’ This, in my experience, maps neatly into real-life. It’s also why more people should study literature.

In essence?

When humans are allowed to do absolutely what the hell they like? Policing (and Jacobean Tragedy) taught me there’s ALWAYS going to be collateral damage. Innocent parties WILL be affected by the unfettered licence of others.

As Desmond Morris observed, way back in 1967, humans are ‘naked apes.’ We might well have put a man on the moon and invented air fryers, but in evolutionary terms? As all police officers (and nurses, paramedics and A&E staff) know, we’re still dopamine-addicted, opposable-thumb equipped, weapon-using, vicious, carnivorous, apex predators. As a species, we’re capable of astonishingly cruelty and violence - and of enjoying it, too. We love getting off our tits, and have done since our forebears discovered funky mushrooms.

I appreciate this isn’t exactly a novel opinion; nonetheless, from my experience? It’s utterly, incontrovertibly true. And, herein, lies the fundamental reason behind my failed libertarianism. The realisation licence, sadly, requires restraint. Pure libertarianism is a form of utopianism (that link, incidentally, takes you to my favourite story about libertarians).

And if my experience of investigating extremists and terrorists taught me anything? Utopianism is a bad thing. Like Marxists who cultishly insist the answer to any given problem turns on ownership of the means of production. It’s as if such utopians are wilfully blind to the real-world consequences of what happens when their cherished theory meets reality.

There are noble exceptions, of course. Outliers. Hunter S. Thompson, for example, was rich and lived in the middle of nowhere. Third parties were generally exempted from Hunter’s idea of fun. Hey, I dig the idea of playing with guns and explosives while consuming enough whisky and cocaine to make Keith Richards blush. I think the sheer scale of America, a place where you can fire a perfectly-legal minigun from the back of your stars-and-stripes painted Humvee - and easily be a hundred miles from anyone else - is a significant reason why libertarian instincts thrive in The Land of the Free. But I live in a small, densely populated country. Which, despite its many faults, I remain deeply fond of.

So, during my quarter of a century as a copper, I came to the following conclusion; one person’s idea of reasonable freedom is, far too often, another’s utter, soul-destroying misery. Anyone who says anything different has obviously never policed an inner-city housing estate.

Therefore aligning the ‘x’ and ‘y’ axes of licence versus restraint just so? This is the quintessence of politics - and, by extension, of law and policing too. And I can’t think of a better example than the decision to legalise - or not legalise - some of the most addictive and deadly substances on the planet, purely for recreational purposes. Isn’t such legalisation licence taken to a maximalist conclusion? There has to be a measure of restraint, right?

And, high-falutin’ ethics and philosophy aside? There’s something else…

Do you really think people making billions of tax-free dollars knocking out illegal, unregulated narcotics are simply going to roll over for Pfizer, AstraZeneca and Amazon?

Big Pharma invites the cartels to talk legalisation. A cartel boss takes his ‘little friend’ to the meeting.

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Class and Drugs

I found too many of those involved in drug-related crime were ‘working-class’ (although the term is increasingly meaningless; in reality police time is mostly hoovered up by a benefits-dependent underclass). Of course, everyone else in society is impacted; for example, by crack or heroin-fuelled burglaries and robberies. Of course, anyone from any background can become addicted to drugs, with awful consequences for both users and their families. Nonetheless, experience teaches me drug abuse and drug-related crime remains a disproportionately acute issue for the socially and economically disadvantaged.

Why?

It stands to reason drug-users from tough socioeconomic backgrounds tend to commit more crime. For starters, they tend to have less money to feed their drug habit, or the support networks to find treatment. They’re also more likely to live in communities where drugs are freely available (which includes inside prisons). And if I had to live in some of the awful places I’ve policed? Maybe I’d have ended up with a habit too.

Conversely, there are plenty of discreet, middle-class drug users with significant dependencies on Class ‘A’ drugs (especially heroin and other opioids). You’d never know; they keep their habit private and are otherwise responsible, law-abiding people. They are as far from the ‘Trainspotting’ junkie stereotype as it’s possible to get. These drug-users have money, support networks, careers and (yes) life skills that disadvantaged addicts lack. This is why you don’t hear much about them; they seldom burgle, rob, sell their bodies or die messily in squatted flats. Nor do they drive cars while off their heads, or find themselves fighting in the street with other addicts. In fact, as a police officer, I only ever encountered this type of drug-user more or less by accident.

Now, square that circle?

Sadly, this is where the ex-policeman bit of my brain kicks in. It sounds like a bossy, patronising fucking schoolteacher. And I hate it. But it’s basically this; because one kid in class has misbehaved, everyone has to stay behind for detention. So, for the common good, we keep drugs illegal and suffer the messy contradictions and compromises that involves.

Unless, of course, you legalise drugs and issue ‘responsible drug user licences’, which would disproportionately benefit middle-class addicts. It would have to be a bit like a driving licence, with points for infractions. Which many users would ignore because they live chaotic, unpredictable lifestyles. And because they could easily score cheaper, tax-free gear from unlicenced dealers. Plus there’s the public money required to create a massive ‘drug users licencing agency.’ And because there are no bloody coppers to catch them, or court spaces to try them, or prison spaces to bang transgressors up in.

Do you see where I’m going with this whole drugs legalisation lark? Do you really want to go there? A dystopia of well-heeled junkies, sitting in penthouses injecting primo Brown, overlooking favelas full of unlicenced plebs hooked on poisonous, bargain bucket gear? It all sounds a bit JG Ballard to me. Unless you’re an anarcho-capitalist who thinks this all sounds excitingly Darwinian. I’ll say it again: opioids, crack and synthetics like Nitazenes aren’t beer or cigarettes.

Pro-legalisation advocates can stick their fingers in their ears and sing nah-nah-nah as much as they like. It doesn’t change the science. Yes, I get it. ‘It’s a public health issue.’ Drugs are also a death, violence, prostitution, robbery, burglary, network corruption, organised criminal network, firearms, assault and people-trafficking issue too.

And I strongly suspect legalisation won’t change that. Not much.

As Desmond Morris ably demonstrated, we are naked apes. We have licence, but we also need restraint. And This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things. Well, mostly. Be discreet, responsible and mind your own business? You’ll probably get away with taking drugs. Institutionalised hypocrisy exists for a reason.

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Then there’s the Government

As Ronald Reagan famously said; the nine most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the Government, and I'm here to help.

I am convinced any attempt by the British Government to legalise and regulate the consumption of Class ‘A’ narcotics would be one of the most darkly comic episodes in our island history.

I’ve already mentioned a notional licencing regime for drugs consumption, based on another legal activity; driving a motor vehicle. Then there’s the puritanical streak that runs through most mainstream political parties - were evidence required, look at the price of a pint of beer or a packet of cigarettes. or laws intended to eventually make buying tobacco illegal. Then there’s the Internet - our politicians are utterly terrified of genuine freedom of expression. The list is endless. If there’s a basic human vice or freedom, HMG will seek to regulate, interfere, tax, hector and nanny every ounce of pleasure out of it.

Please note my earlier comments about licence versus restraint - I absolutely understand the necessity of regulation. I simply happen to often disagree with how our politicians deliver it. This is even before we get into crunchy topics like taxation and corporate interests, right? Remember, the ‘Naked Ape’ principle applies to politicians. Politics is homo sapiens’ attempt to dominate each other using the minimum application of force.

Now, consider officially-organised attempts at drugs legalisation in other Western democracies. The outcome is usually similar; fucking horrible. Addicts will be drawn to areas known for dealing, milling around like needy zombies. Generating crime and other social problems. Quite often, the only answer is reversing liberalisation policies.

This isn’t to say all drugs legalisation projects are doomed to failure. Switzerland, for example, appears to have enjoyed some success with liberalisation experiments. Switzerland, right? Here’s another uncomfortable truth; small, wealthy, socially homogenous societies with advanced healthcare capabilities seem better adapted to liberalising narcotics use (which I referenced in the section above, concerning drugs as a class issue). Now, look around modern Britain and ask yourself the same question.

See?

I’m tempted to say I rest my case. If only it were that simple. Personally, I suspect drugs legalisation would also cost taxpayers at least as much as ‘the war on drugs.’ Not least because criminals would continue making a mockery of government regulations (more of which later).

Drug users in Portland, Oregon, USA. The city experimented with radical drugs liberalisation policies, which it subsequently reversed. America doesn’t have the public healthcare infrastructure - or inclination - to subsidize addiction. And why should it?

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But what about Cannabis?

As a policeman, I found much of the law around the possession and use of cannabis to be complete chickenshit. The laws were useful only as a tool for arresting scrotes up to other types of crime. My personal biases aside (I hate the smell and find most stoners deeply boring), my primary concerns around cannabis are twofold;

• Idiots driving cars or operating machinery under the influence of the stuff.

• The brain-rotting, super-strength shit that passes for puff nowadays. Which is to say, skunk. It’s poisonous, it fucks kids’ brains up, it needs to be banned.

Apart from that? If you can sell me a business model where cannabis use is a quality-assured cottage industry, one we legislate to specifically exclude big pharma? One where only primo herb was sold legally, and Old Bill are allowed to get fucking medieval with anyone breaking the purity laws? Yes, I could be persuaded.

See? I’m a bit of a hippy, really.

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The Dealer’s Perspective

Imagine you’re a middle-market drug dealer. Which means you knock out kilos, but not multi-kilos. You don’t sell on the street - you supply retailers. You stay under the radar - a solid level 2 NIM offender, of the variety police struggle to catch. You’re clearing shitloads of money. Seriously, you don’t care if laundering your profits costs you forty-odd percent of the take; you’ve still got Walter White-level quantities of cash sloshing around. You’re Breaking Bad, but you live in suburban Kent. There are no heavily-armed Mexican sicario or DEA agents in Swanley, Sittingbourne or Rochester.

You don’t really ping the Old Bill’s radar - they’re too busy chasing hoodies and street dealers, or babysitting runaway kids and mental health patients. the National Crime Agency? They’re at a meeting somewhere, comparing Excel spreadsheets.

Yes, there are drawbacks; grasses, occasional violence and stabby foreigners undercutting your prices. But, on the whole? You’ve got a detached house nowhere near any dirty junkies, two new motors and an apartment in Dubai. Life is as sweet as a nut, especially considering you left school with no qualifications and absolutely nobody in the world tells you what to do.

These people exist. I’ve met them. I’ve spoken to them. I’ve watched them from observation posts. I’ve listened to their covertly-recorded conversations. And they aren’t even near the top of the layer cake.

Now, order them to give it all up. Or even worse, surrender their hard-won businesses to politicians, healthcare busybodies, consultants, accountants and regulators. Insist they accept jobs as sales managers for big pharma, wearing shiny suits and preparing PowerPoints and attending conferences at the Reading-fucking-Hilton.

They will tell you to fuck off.

A select few will even try to shoot you. Or hire an Albanian to do it for them. They will pay their assassins using cryptocurrency. The will instruct them via untraceable satellite phones, from condos somewhere in the United Arab Emirates or Thailand. It will be like having dozens of forensically aware Luigi Mangiones running around.

And you won’t catch the people who hired them.

He ain’t delivering PowerPoints at the Reading Hilton without a fight.

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Their business response to our shiny new world of legalised narcotics?

They’ll carry on doing what they’ve always done. They are the most naked of the naked apes. They’ll offer narcotics more cheaply and more efficiently, because they’ll ignore the rules and regulations. They’ll offer forbidden, dangerous and technologically novel drugs. Sure, there’ll be fewer middle-market dealers, because some high-end cartels will sell out. That means black market prices will rise. That will lead to turf wars and violence.

Now, you’d like to think some of the money allegedly generated by legalising drugs and ending ‘the war’ would be invested in policing to catch the diehards who refuse to go legit. Right? You haven’t been paying attention, have you?

That money will be spent on what it’s always been spent on; client voters, welfare and our Chernobyl-quality, Sovietised health service. And remember - I’m only talking about the middle-market. There are PhDs to be written on how street dealers and cartel-level narco-states might respond to legalisation. This is a big status quo we’re talking about. The mother of all applecarts. And it’s heavily-armed.

It ain’t going quietly.

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The Answer?

This is a policeman’s answer. It isn’t going to please too many people. But policing isn’t a popularity contest.

I’ve discovered, quite often (but not always), the status quo exists for a reason. The reasons for this might be good, or they might be bad. However, if you’re going to change the status quo, sometimes you should err on the side of caution. Such changes call for the skills of an old-fashioned baker. You prepare every ingredient. You ensure the kitchen’s spotless. You get the oven to a precise temperature. You bake for precisely the time specified in the recipe. You taste the end result, assess and painstakingly do it again. Until the end result is as good as it’s going to get.

The status quo on drugs, in my experience, is one of those areas requiring such precision and patience. There’s a problem, though. Can you imagine a naked ape, especially one protecting its turf, helping to bake a Victoria sponge?

Remember, the drugs game is as much of a lifestyle as it is a business. As Eddie Temple says, shortly before he’s shot dead in a bonded warehouse:

You're born, you take shit. You get out in the world, you take more shit. You climb a little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like.

Welcome to the Layer Cake, Son.

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