Guns and Drugs: Different Scourges, Same Solution?
Guns and Drugs: Different Scourges, Same Solution?
In the wake of the tragedy at Sandy Hook and the incomprehensible assault that took the lives of 20 elementary school children in a mere 10 minutes, gun control has, not surprisingly, leapt to the top of the political agenda. As we enter this intensely contentious debate, it is very illuminating to also look at an equally fractious issue—drug policy—even though the two problems may at first seem to have little in common but their intractability.
In fact, they have a surprising number of parallels. The arguments against gun control sound an awful like those made for drug legalization: people who really want guns (or drugs) will always find a way to get them; most people who have them don’t hurt anyone; we will never get rid of all of the guns (or drugs) anyway.
When faced with a crime like last month’s massacre, however, the complexity of the two problems—and both the resonances and the discontinuities in the comparison—become clear. By thinking through these issues without regard to the usual kneejerk left/right split, we can come to a better understanding of what ails our policies in both areas.
Let’s start with the similarities. With both drugs and guns, most users won’t have any problems: 90% of marijuana smokers, for example, never become addicted and the same is true for 80% to 90% of cocaine, heroin and alcohol users. Among gun owners, the proportion never harmed is almost certainly even higher.
But there’s a small group of people—let’s call them the "inevitables"—for whom these items are potentially deadly: with drugs, this is obviously addicts and their loved ones; with guns, those who are likely to kill or injure themselves or others. For example, actively suicidal people who seek guns or drugs solely as an aid to their own death. Or relentlessly homicidal people who are going to find some type of weapon to use—or, with drugs, those who are dead set on getting high, whether on alcohol, heroin, speed or, if nothing else is available, gasoline.
If drugs are not available at the moments of peak craving, the danger will pass; similarly, the presence of a gun can turn one thoughtless moment into a deadly disaster.
For the inevitables, prohibition is going to fail, no doubt about it. If they don’t find the specific tool of choice to do the job, they’ll find another. The problem is not just the supply of guns or the drugs—although that can make a difference in the ultimate body count—but the people who seek them and their underlying issues, which range from childhood trauma and mental illness to genetic predispositions, poverty and plain old-fashioned orneriness. Addressing these social and psychological issues is crucial to solving this part of the problem.
However, there’s also a group of people who will be brought down only by something specific: we can dub them the “evitables.” With drugs, this may involve people who have a genetic predisposition for cocaine addiction—but who do fine if they drink or smoke weed and never encounter cocaine. With guns, the evitables include people who will kill if they have a detached means of doing so, but who otherwise lack the physical or mental capacity to do something as “hands on” as stabbing or strangling someone.
Both impulsivity and contingency play a role: if drugs are not available at the moments of peak craving, the danger will pass, potentially preventing worsening addiction or overdose; similarly, the presence of a gun can turn one thoughtless moment into a deadly disaster that simply would not have occurred if the perpetrator had had time to “cool off” before getting the gun.
It’s nearly impossible to know in advance, however, whether someone will belong to the inevitables or the evitables or to the much larger group who will have no issues at all with drugs or guns—just as no one can yet ascertain whether the college drinker will wind up as a skid row resident or an American president. There are some decent predictors, which should be studied for use in regulation—particularly in relationship to mental illness—but they aren’t accurate enough to offer a solution.
Yet we do know that with both drugs and guns, there is a strong relationship between availability and related harm. For example, teens with a gun in their home, who typically were not the purchaser of the weapon, are twice as likely to die from suicide as those who do not have ready access to a firearm; states with the greatest accessibility of guns have double the suicide rate of those with the least access. Similarly, people who move even just a half-mile closer to a bar increased their odds of becoming a heavy drinker by 17%, according to a recent study of over 55,000 Finnish adults.
Clearly, then, it is possible to lessen the degree of harm caused by drugs or guns by controlling their supply, making it less likely that the evitables will have access when they are most vulnerable. But reducing harm is actually easier through strategic regulation than by outright prohibition.
With alcohol and other drugs, the failure of prohibition is obvious. In the 1920s and early1930s, Prohibition reduced but never eliminated alcohol consumption; it also not only led to the deaths of thousands by poisoned alcohol intended to deter use but drove a widespread spree of organized violent crime. Drug prohibition has similarly failed: supply has been driven underground, abetting organized crime and the development of life-threatening diseases; it has also led the US to incarcerate a greater proportion of its citizens than any other country at an incredible human and financial cost.