How I wish the prohibition addicts would go cold-turkey

“Prohibition is an attempted cure that makes matters worse – for both the addict and the rest of us.” Thus, the late Milton Friedman outlined the scourge of a generation: how we deal with the drug problem. It has become the misguided moral crusade of major global superpowers to act as noble warriors in the so-called “War on Drugs”, fighting the “good” fight in lands far and wide, myopically neglecting to respond to the bitter consequences and consistent failures. World leaders must wake up and smell the coffee; the criminalisation of drugs merely acts as the worst possible palliative. And we’re hooked. The prohibition experiment’s time is up. Quite frankly, it’s failed on every count. 280,000 heroin addicts in Britain alone, almost £500 million per year spent on keeping UK prisoners in the clink for drug charges, and countless homicide victims despondently cry out for an alternative approach. Outside of …

Up in flames

Ignorance breeds intolerance; it’s just a shame to see the media fuelling it. The rapacious hounds of the tabloid press have played out the burn-the-Koran farce with their habitual feigned indignation, succeeding in whipping up a media tornado that serves only to fan the flames of hatred. A wisp of smoke billowing from a lonely Koran would hardly have changed the world. Yet as a media ruckus hysterically dramatises a non-event, we merely raise a plinth from which Pastor Jones’ contemptible preaching can reach a wider audience. As Jones’ unsubstantiated claims are disseminated through every available media outlet, the delirious pastor’s formerly paltry throng of disciples swells. His insensitive intention to burn the holy text of Islam, as a commemoration of those killed on 9/11, instantly received ubiquitous airtime. Before the fire was senselessly transformed into an incandescent blaze, this bigot was simply an oddball preaching in a tucked-away corner …

How I pine for South Africa’s muffled cries and drowned tears to be noticed

“Didier Drogba is just over there, but what does that do to help me?” As the harmonious discord of the vuvuzela imbues the glossy stadiums swathed in the sickening glow of African democratic pseudo-success, South Africa’s reality is laden with mass poverty, unemployment, inequality, crime and death. The World Cup simply acts as a diversion, fixing a shameless, unflinching barrier in front of the harsh actualities of day-to-day life. We flock to the Rainbow Nation in a forced migration of millions who will leave as quickly as they came; money is doubtless injected but where does it go? The tournament has the opportunity to make a difference. Yet it doesn’t. Images of laughing, smiling African children adorn our television screens, as though the lure of the dancing pixels can allay our anxieties about their reality. How I wish that this World Cup was ameliorating global society in the way it …