In Rethinking Drug Laws: Theory, History, Politics, Toby Seddon analyses drug control policy and argues for a paradigm shift that decentres the West and recognises China’s historical and contemporary influence. Unpacking the complexity of drug law as a regulatory system, Seddon’s well-argued, insightful book calls for more inclusive, evidence-informed and democratic policymaking, writes Mark Monaghan.

Rethinking Drug Laws: Theory, History, Politics. Toby Seddon. Oxford University Press. 2023.

Based on forensic archival research, Rethinking Drug Laws: Theory, History, Politics by Toby Seddon is beautifully written and deeply insightful. Its central thesis is that we must decentre the West, especially when thinking about the origins of drug policy. Viewing drug policy from a Western vantage point is a blip because, as Seddon shows, China has long been a key player on the global stage, but drug policy analysis, with some exceptions, has not always recognised this. In this way, drug policy analysis has fallen into the trap of Occidentalism, providing a distorted view of the West’s prominence. Seddon sets out to show the folly of this and succeeds. Furthermore, he demonstrates that there are signs of regression toward the mean as China once again is becoming a primary global player, particularly through the belt and road initiative.

In drug control, inanimate objects – drugs – are not banned, but transactions that would otherwise constitute lawful economic activity are criminalised.

A defining feature of Seddon’s writing is the remarkable capacity for distilling complex historical narratives into an easily digestible schema. We see this clearly in the introduction, where he proposes a tripartite structure of race, risk and security arcs as ways to think about the origins of what has only recently become known as the “drug problem”. We are also introduced to another key idea that drug laws function through controlling the circulation of goods, ie, they are regulatory systems. In drug control, inanimate objects – drugs – are not banned, but transactions that would otherwise constitute lawful economic activity are criminalised. This is about the control of personal property rights. The right to personal property is not explicitly eroded through prohibition, but some transactions in relation to them become impermissible and there is no legal recourse for the right to conduct these transactions. In outlining this, the entire premise of drug control shifts from one of a struggle between the forces of prohibition and legalisation to understanding legalisation and prohibition within a broader system of regulation.

Seddon refers to regulatory systems as ‘exchangespace’. […] The basic premise of exchangespace is that ‘market behaviour and regulation are not separate realms but two sides of the same coin’.

Seddon elaborates on this over the following chapters and in doing so demonstrates a depth of research and scholarship that is genuinely cross-disciplinary, bringing in economics, sociology, history, political economy as well as insights from criminology, regulation theory and socio-legal perspectives. There is, however, method to this, which shapes and is shaped by the development of a new conceptual framework. Drawing on the work of Clifford Shearing and others, Seddon refers to regulatory systems as “exchangespace”, and this is painstakingly outlined in Chapter Two. The basic premise of exchangespace is that “market behaviour and regulation are not separate realms but two sides of the same coin”. The dimensions of exchangespace can be summarised as:

1. Regulation operates in networks consisting of multiple dimensions and participants.
2. Nodes are a key element of networks and facilitate communication across them. Analysis of networks should, therefore, look at the nodes because these are the locus within a system where various resources are mobilised in order to govern effectively.
3. Not all nodes exert the same amount or kind of power in the network. The most economically powerful nodes can distort the smooth operation of the entire system.
4. Networks adapt overtime. Consequently, policy does not stand still, it evolves and emerges in often unpredictable ways.

Seddon encourages us to focus on the network conditions that led to increasing control of certain substances (what we know as drugs), whilst permitting or at least freeing the trade in others (coffee, alcohol and tobacco) and to view these as complex systems.

Seddon encourages us to focus on the network conditions that led to increasing control of certain substances (what we know as drugs), whilst permitting or at least freeing the trade in others (coffee, alcohol and tobacco) and to view these as complex systems. In complex systems, the outcomes of policy depend on understanding where the starting point is. However, identifying starting points is almost impossible, not least, as Seddon contends, because we don’t yet have the theory and methods at our disposal to do so. The best we can do, then, is to try and understand elements of the wider network; that is, which nodes are exerting power in which contexts while acknowledging that these systems are unpredictable and constantly changing. Seddon uses this framework to explain the origins of Cannabis Social Clubs in Catalonia and the complex politics behind the patchy implementation of Heroin Assisted Treatment. In this way, we can start to explain the ways in which, for example, overdose prevention centres have been established in some locations and not others, or why and how drugs were decriminalised in Oregon, a decision that may now be reversed.

Seddon demonstrates how the origins of the current system can be traced to colonialism […] in the nineteenth century, even if we cannot pinpoint the exact starting point.

A complex system like drug policy can never revert to an earlier stage of development. Oregon’s post-decriminalisation society will not be the same as its pre-decriminalisation society. Fortunately, however, complex systems do have path dependency, and so it is possible, as Seddon does in Part II (Chapters Four and Five), to outline the chain of events that has led to the contemporary global drug regulatory system. Seddon demonstrates how the origins of the current system can be traced to colonialism (the race arc) in the nineteenth century, even if we cannot pinpoint the exact starting point. The key lesson here is that we need to look East rather than West to understand this. Here, the Opium Wars of the nineteenth century are a key reference point.

Taking an exchangespace perspective we see that the Opium Wars (1839-1842) were more than just about one country (Britain) establishing a right to export its products (opium) to a large market (China). More accurately, they represented a military contestation that focused on the boundaries between legal and illegal trade – a contestation that lies at the heart of drug control. The burgeoning temperance movement proved a powerful node alongside increasingly powerful US economic interests, which contributed to the realigning of opium in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as a product requiring control. The Opium Wars also represent – in the form of the second opium (Arrow) war – the first moment that drug control (as opium control) became a multinational affair. In this way we can draw a direct line from the Opium Wars to global drug prohibition fifty years later.

In Part III (Chapters Six and Seven) Seddon turns to the political nodes of the regulatory network, focusing on “what is at stake when drug laws and drug policy become a matter of political contestation”. The idea here is that within exchangespace, it is impossible to stand outside of politics, as the system is inherently political. Politics is a powerful node. This section draws heavily on Loader and Sparks’ conception of public criminology and the strategies that can be used to add coolant to heated debates.

To hand over decision making to experts is to abandon any hope for democratic politics as it replaces one system of domination (populist politics) with another (experts).

For Seddon, this should not simply mean that populist ideas – such as the “war on drugs” – are replaced with technocratic, evidence-based decisions. To hand over decision making to experts is to abandon any hope for democratic politics as it replaces one system of domination (populist politics) with another (experts). Arguably, that is why it has become more commonplace to speak of evidence-informed or evidence-inspired policy. However, Seddon provides a way out of that impasse by stating that “better politics” is required more than better evidence. This has two dimensions. First, we need a more careful analysis that focuses not only on the impact or harms of current drug policies (eg, criminalisation, stigmatisation, racist stereotyping) as they occur, but considers in depth and precision how the arcs of race, risk and security perpetuate this system. Secondly, on a practical level, a more cosmopolitan, comprehensive and inclusive deliberative democracy is required which can yield discernible change. Reforms in Catalonia and Oregon point to how this can be done, but also its precarity. Scaling it up and bringing in the voice of people who use drugs as part of a social movement is essential.

The text brings us almost full circle to how a better politics might lead to a more sophisticated, fairer form of market regulation.

Seddon points to the success of prison reform movements in France in the 1970s or the radical politics of mental health campaigning organisations which sought to foreground the voices of survivors of the psychiatric system as providing a blueprint. To this we could add decades of campaigning by disability rights activists, which have shown how positive change can occur with these strategies. There is no reason why drug policy should be any different. In this way, the text brings us almost full circle to how a better politics might lead to a more sophisticated, fairer form of market regulation. Ultimately, for Seddon, this means shifting the focus of social and political science away from the way the world is, towards the deeper thinking on the kind of world we want. This is the book’s challenge. It is us up to us to deliver.

Note: This interview gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.

Image credit: OneSideProFoto on Shutterstock.

In The Politics of Memory in the Italian Populist Radical Right, Marianna Griffini examines Italy’s political landscape, following the roots of fascism through to their influence on contemporary politics. Skilfully dissecting nativism, immigration, colonialism and the profound impact of memory on Italian political identities, the book makes an important contribution to scholarship on political history and theory and memory studies, according to Georgios Samaras.

The Politics of Memory in the Italian Populist Radical Right: From Mare Nostrum to Mare Vostrum. Marianna Griffini. Routledge. 2023.

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Marianna Griffini’s The Politics of Memory in the Italian Populist Radical Right stands as a thorough examination of Italy’s political landscape, weaving together historical threads and contemporary realities. The book provides a nuanced analysis that dissects the roots of Italian fascism and charts the trajectory of its influence on present-day politics, offering a solid exploration of the nation’s political memory.

Griffini sets the stage for an exploration of how collective memory shapes political ideologies

The eight chapters form a cohesive narrative that progressively deepens the understanding of Italy’s political milieu. Chapter One serves as a poignant introduction, capturing the current state of the Italian radical right and framing the central theme of memory. Griffini sets the stage for an exploration of how collective memory shapes political ideologies, a theme that reverberates throughout the subsequent chapters.

Chapter Two delves into the concept of nativism, contextualising it within both the broader European framework and the specific nuances of Italian politics. This nuanced exploration lays the foundation for comprehending the intricate dance between nativism, populism and the enduring echoes of Italy’s fascist past. Chapter Three, clearly outlines the research methodologies, establishing the scholarly background underpinning the entire work.

Chapter Four posits the emergence of the nation-state and examines the impact of otherisation, offering a lens to comprehend the dynamics of Italian politics. Otherisation, as a concept, illuminates how politicians endeavour to portray certain societal groups as different, often excluding them from the national identity. In this chapter, the analysis effectively traces, in a historiographical manner, the gradual development of this phenomenon over several decades, establishing a connection to fascist movements.

Otherisation, as a concept, illuminates how politicians endeavour to portray certain societal groups as different, often excluding them from the national identity.

The book takes a pivotal turn in Chapter Five, addressing the weighty topic of immigration and the multifaceted challenges it poses. This chapter serves as a bridge, connecting historical narratives with contemporary realities, offering a comprehensive understanding of the role immigration plays in shaping political discourse.

Chapter Six unfolds a detailed analysis of colonialism and its impact on attitudes toward immigration. Griffini’s exploration of colonial pasts and their connection to collective memory, as presented in Chapter Seven, adds a further layer of historical depth, illustrating the enduring influence of historical legacies on present-day political ideologies. The theoretical approach of memory underscores the colonial exploitation of other cultures by Italy. Notably, Griffini highlights how memory could be approached from a different angle in order to humanise and confront Italy’s colonial past, instead of supressing it.

Griffini highlights how memory could be approached from a different angle in order to humanise and confront Italy’s colonial past, instead of supressing it.

The zenith of the book occurs in Chapter Eight, where Griffini articulates the central argument concerning the profound influence of memory on shaping political identities. This segment stands as the magnum opus of the analysis, persuasively contending that the historical omission of specific memories related to both embracing and challenging Italy’s colonial past serves as a catalyst for the resurgence of fascist attitudes. This provides a critical insight into Italy’s seemingly inescapable political patterns.

The historical omission of specific memories related to both embracing and challenging Italy’s colonial past serves as a catalyst for the resurgence of fascist attitudes.

The book not only navigates the complexities of Italian politics but also engages with theoretical debates, contributing valuable insights to the understanding of populism. By elucidating the links between emotionality and the radical right, Griffini demonstrates how political ideologies, when fused with emotional undercurrents, can yield extremist outcomes.

A noteworthy strength of the book is its emphasis on ethnocultural ideas and the notion of belonging to the nation, especially in the context of increased migration within the European Union. The examination of otherisation as a phenomenon serves as a profound analysis, unravelling how Italian voters perceive the intricate role of the nation and how this perception catalyses the rise of radical right movements.

While the discussion between colonial and political theory may initially challenge some readers, it ultimately contributes to the richness of the analysis. The book successfully navigates the fluid boundaries of these theories, illuminating historical concepts that persist in the shadows and continue to shape contemporary political landscapes. However, a clearer bridge between those two concepts would have been useful for readers who are not entirely familiar with all the technical terms explored in the book.

[The book] provides key findings that not only shed light on the surge of the radical right but also offer a template for understanding the intricate political dynamics in other European countries.

The Politics of Memory in the Italian Populist Radical Right emerges not only as an exploration of Italian politics in 2022 but as a timeless contribution to scholarly literature. It provides key findings that not only shed light on the surge of the radical right but also offer a template for understanding the intricate political dynamics in other European countries.

Griffini delves into Italy’s colonial past, shedding light on its historical neglect and the deliberate concealment of past atrocities. This collective memory has been influenced by the infiltration of fascist tendencies into contemporary Italian politics. While the rise of far-right parties was noticeable up until 2022, none matched the achievements of Meloni with her election that year. Griffini’s examination of Italy’s colonial history offers a partial explanation for the limited comprehension of the nation’s past, intricately intertwined with its fascist history.

While the rise of far-right parties was noticeable up until 2022, none matched the achievements of Meloni with her election that year

Also, the book’s refusal to indulge in unnecessary predictions is a testament to its commitment to historical rigor. Given the unpredictable nature of Italian politics, this decision aligns with the broader theme of acknowledging the complexity inherent in the nation’s political trajectory.

In conclusion, despite the potential challenge for some readers in navigating between colonial theory and the concept of memory, the book constitutes an important contribution to scholarship on political history and theory and memory studies. Further research in the field is important for a more profound understanding of the intricate political dynamics unfolding in other European countries, illuminating how the normalisation of the radical right often stems from historical complexities. This book is highly recommended for students exploring Italian politics in 2022 and academic scholars seeking familiarity with historical perspectives shaping the extremes of the political spectrum in Italy.

This post gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. The LSE RB blog may receive a small commission if you choose to make a purchase through the above Amazon affiliate link. This is entirely independent of the coverage of the book on LSE Review of Books.

Image Credit: Alessia Pierdomenico on Shutterstock.

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If Trump wins next year's US Presidential Election, as Robert Kagan in The Washington Post both terrifiedly and terrifyingly says is now inevitable, will there be a flow of intellectuals and scientists out of the United States in a reverse of the flow of intellectuals and scientists from Europe into the US in the 1930s?

A flow of US refugees – genuine refugees, fleeing the collapse of their country into an illiberal, mean-spirited, even perhaps dangerous place for anyone not of the MAGA persuasion – is not inconceivable. Who with a sense of decency could stomach a situation of Donald Trump’s making?

The triumph of the US began in economic power before the Second World War and was sustained and enhanced after it by those refugees from European fascism. What will the world be like with wealth-powerful bullying states overshadowing it and bridling against each other – a Trumpian US; an irredentist, expansionist China; a world dominated by dictators?

This speculation invites analysis, given that the likelihood is that this is our future. But for present purposes let us focus on the word ‘refugees’ just used in this unexpected connection: ‘refugees from the US’. And let us consider that the refugee crises of recent years are as nothing – are as mere Sunday picnics – in comparison to the vast displacements of populations soon to be precipitated by climate change: a catastrophe of hundreds of millions of refugees, not mere millions, into regions unprepared and unwilling.

We have grown used to refugees from the crises in the Middle East and Ukraine, but the future’s refugees will be different, from different places, and far more numerous, than those we see today.

The Identity Trap: Race, Representation and the Rise of Conservative Diversity

Rishi Sunak is in the running to be Britain’s first prime minister of colour – but the debate around whether this will be a good thing for ethnic minorities has laid bare conflicting ideas about the ‘individual’ and the ‘collective’, writes Hardeep Matharu

Hardeep Matharu

In the far-right rhetoric of Victor Orbán, Geert Wilders and Suella Braverman, ‘immigrants’ are lumped together – whether they are refugees or migrants – in one unwelcome mass of moving populations seeking (in the case of refugees) safety or (in the case of migrants) opportunity. But as this distinction illustrates, refugees and migrants are not the same.

Many refugees are anxious to return home when peace is restored; migrants are in quest of a new home. Does this distinction show up in the numbers on ‘immigration’, in the provisions made for them, in the way they are dealt with? No. They are all lumped into the category ‘immigration’ because would-be immigrants, when their numbers reach a critical mass, trouble native populations, which – everywhere in the world, when left to unreflective tribalist instincts – are naturally xenophobic if not downright racist.

The resurgence in recent years of far-right politics in Europe and the US is based on the exploitation of xenophobia as the tool of choice for gaining power. Once got, that power is used to roll-back democracy, civil liberties and the rule of law, aimed at reducing the state from a structure of governance on behalf of the people to a structure for wielding coercive power over the people. It is a familiar story to anyone who bothers to read history.

In the UK today, a desperate Conservative Party is flogging the immigration horse as hard as it can to try to save its skin – because it sees how the right elsewhere is gaining ground by means of the anti-immigration agenda. It has not yet finished delivering the state into private pockets and completing its agenda of creating a subject population unable to protest, strike, or expect decent public services. It wants to finish the job of asset-stripping the country for themselves and the masters behind them in the media and tax-havens and board rooms.

That the citizenry of the UK is not pouring onto the streets in protest at the screaming hypocrisy of a UK government stuffed out with the offspring of immigrants is testament to the dazement induced by the anti-immigrant rhetoric of these immigrant children. But what is worse is that the rhetoric is so effective in switching off thought on the part of so many.

For if they did pause to consider, just for a moment, what the individual units of ‘immigration’ actually are – ie: human beings; men, women, fathers, mothers, children – how could they persist in accepting the bemusement of their faculties? Readers of these words won’t need reminding, but here is the distinction between a refugee and a migrant, and what each is.

‘Asylum seeker’, ‘refugee’. What is such a person? A human being fleeing persecution, danger, death, struggle, terror, horror. A human being fleeing guns and bombs, prisons, torture, cruelty, murder. A human being traumatised, shaking with fear, desperate. A human being who has heard, who has emitted, screams and cries of pain and grief, who has run away from a nightmare. A human being in dire need of safety.

‘Migrant’ What is such a person? A human being quitting places of hunger, futurelessness, who wants a chance to make a life, for himself or herself and his and her children, who wants stability, opportunity, who wants a new life, who wants a job, a home, security, a chance to grow into something they feel they can be.

People leave places because they are pushed and because they are pulled. The refugees are pushed by danger, the migrant by sterility of opportunity. Both are pulled by places that are better, safer, far more promising. Their situation in either case is so bad where they are that they risk much, often everything, to reach better places. However unfamiliar the new place, the strange language, the uncertainty of their reception, it is better by far than the place they leave.

Their action takes immense courage, resolve and effort. They do what human beings have always done, from the moment that homo sapiens trekked out of Africa 60,000 years ago – indeed, from the moment that homo erectus trekked out of Africa two million years ago – to find better places to be.

And here is the clincher: immigrants add, they do not take away. Look at the US in the years 1880-1939 and ask whether the huge waves of immigration in those decades was a bad thing for it. Well, was it?

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In today’s UK there are 165,000 vacancies in the care industry – yet the politicians, to pander to ignorance and prejudice, bring down the shutters. Our NHS, our universities, our small business sector (99% of British businesses are small to medium-sized enterprises or SMEs), profit hugely from ‘incomers’. Germany and Australia need net immigration lest their economies stall; whereas the saner political parties in the former understand the problem, politicians in the latter play the same tattered card on both sides of the aisle. It is madness.

Among the solutions to the ‘problem’ of immigration are these: (a) educate the home population on the facts: immigrants add value; (b) invest in the countries that drive migrants outward because of the economic insufficiencies there, so that talent remains there and the impulse to leave is lessened.

And as to refugees and asylum seekers: chief among the solutions to this different problem are: (c) work to bring peace and stability to the regions that drive their terrified populations out; (d) be humane, be kind, welcome them when they stagger onto our shores, succour them.

Note always: migrants are those who explicitly seek to be immigrants. Not all refugees, indeed, perhaps not many of them, wish to be immigrants. Do not discriminate against either of them; discriminate between them and treat them accordingly – which with regard to both means decently.

It is essential to recognise, and not be fooled by, the use of the ‘immigration’ canard to blind us to the real agenda of the far-right. The far-right stir up hostility to an easily demonised ‘other’ as a mask for the rest of their wider and equally bad agenda. They are at present winning this nasty game. We must not let them. In fighting for the cause of refugees and migrants, we fight for ourselves.