TOKING DIPLOMACY

The U.S. Drug Czar's Battle With Canada's Prince Of Pot

If you were the guy everyone called the prince of pot and the U.S.
drug czar came to town rattling his saber, you'd probably have the
sense to stay out of his way. At the very least, you wouldn't go out
of your way to antagonize him, let alone pay $500 for the privilege.

But that's exactly what Marc Emery did. Emery is a Canadian
entrepreneur who presided over the world's largest marijuana seed
sales business.

In November 2002, when John Walters came to Vancouver, Emery bought a
table at a Board of Trade luncheon, invited nine friends along,
and-after nearly tricking Walters into posing for a photo with
him-mercilessly heckled the czar (whose speech warned the Canadians
about the errors of their drug-tolerant ways) before heading outside
to spark up a fatty.

In July, after 10 years of watching as Emery sent seeds across the
border, webcast his antiprohibition rants from the HQ of the British
Columbia Marijuana Party ("Overgrow the Government") on Pot-TV, and
mailed out Cannabis Culture, the bimonthly he edits, U.S. drug
warriors finally struck back. Acting at their behest, the Canadian
police busted Emery in Lawrencetown, Nova Scotia, where he was due to
appear at Hemp Fest 2005, on a three-count indictment filed by the
U.S. attorney's office after an 18-month investigation by the Drug
Enforcement Administration (DEA). Emery, 47, and two associates were
charged with conspiracy to produce and sell marijuana, as well as
money laundering-crimes that could carry life sentences.

I first met Emery just after the drug-czar incident and his second
run to be Vancouver's mayor. Swaggering through "Vansterdam," the
neighborhood of cannabis cafes and head shops that he helped
establish, Emery seemed to have walked out of the pages of the Ayn
Rand books he discovered when he was 21 (around the time he
discovered pot) or the superhero comics he sold in his first
business, started when he was 13. Both Howard Roark and Spider-Man,
he told me then, "had this total obsession with doing the right thing.

I really related to these misunderstood people who had so much power."

This August, released on a $50,000 bond, he was still obsessed,
speaking in his customary rat-a-tat about the "real reason" for his
arrest: the millions of dollars he says he's given to antiprohibition
causes over the years. "My money went everywhere, spreading a
revolution through retail," he said. "It was the engine for worldwide
activism against U.S. drug policy."

"I've given his 'movement' no thought," says Todd Greenberg, the
assistant U.S. attorney in Seattle prosecuting the case. "Emery's
criminal activities are the only focus of this case," he added,
citing as justification the fact that 75 percent of Emery's seeds go
to American customers. But Greenberg's attempt to distance Emery's
arrest from drug-war politics was undermined by Karen Tandy, head of
the DEA. On the day of Emery's bust, she proclaimed that it dealt a
blow "not only to the marijuana trafficking trade but also to the
marijuana legalization movement," whose lobbyists, she added, "now
have one less pot of money to rely on."

"She makes it clear that her objective was to cripple the movement,"
says John Conroy, who leads Emery's defense team and plans to use
Tandy's statement to fight his extradition. Under the Extradition
Act, Canada is not obligated to surrender a citizen if to do so would
be unjust or oppressive. (Canada limits sentences for cannabis
production to a maximum of seven years.) Last year, Emery served 60
days for passing a joint at a concert, but Canada has largely
tolerated his business-and taken his money: He pays about $80,000 a
year in income taxes, listing "marijuana seed vendor" as his
occupation on his return.

Conroy believes Emery's arrest is both personal ("It smacks of his
being an effective pain in the ass to the drug warriors," he says)
and political-an attempt by the U.S. to signal its displeasure at
Canada's liberal drug policies. The country has legalized medical
pot, is flirting with federal decriminalization, and was the first
nation to approve a cannabis extract called Sativex for prescription
use. Many Canadians agree - a poll found that 58 percent oppose
Emery's extradition, and the arrest, which was front-page news in
Canada, triggered an avalanche of letters to the editor and op-eds
criticizing what one columnist called "an outrageous infringement of
Canadian sovereignty."

Awaiting his extradition hearing (Conroy reckons the process will
take years), Emery says he's out of money and out of business.

His website now offers grim warnings about an "escalation of the Drug
War" instead of seeds of "White Widow" and "Diesel" varietals.

But he seems certain that if he loses his extradition battle, it will
be his ticket into the superhero pantheon. "The DEA is losing the war
for hearts and minds.

They figure they can wipe out the movement by getting rid of this one
guy. They're going to give life in Supermax to a guy who isn't even
in trouble with his own people," Emery says. "They will make a martyr
out of me."