The Women of Narco B-Movies

Roosevelt Avenue in Corona, Queens is known for its money-sending “chops,” gold and silver vendors, ethnic markets, and great Argentine, Colombian, Ecuadorian, Mexican, and Peruvian restaurants, all conveniently tucked under the 7 trains.  The doorway I sought led up a stairwell that advertised the store’s music offerings: cumbia, bachata, grupera, salsa, and the standards of rock and pop. Among the music CDs, one can find hip-hop clothing and narco B movies. The bleary-eyed attendant grew suspicious when I asked for all his narco films with female protagonists.  I bought my first narco-chick action flick, Rosario Tijeras, a couple of days after its Latin American release from a street vendor two blocks from this store.  I felt sure that the number of female protagonist B-films had grown with the release of La colombiana and Miss Bala.  These films are for the foreign and elite movie going public; the B-movies are for everyone else.

Gerardo Naranjo, 2011

Long before more accomplished filmmakers entered the narco market, narco B-movies documented Mexico’s role in the drug trade since the 1970s.   These low-budget action films have fairly simple story lines,  and often the same actors appear regardless of production company.  The narratives depict the realities of the drug trade in Northern Mexico and along the U.S.-Mexico border.  Many of the screenwriters base the films on narco-corridos, ballads about the drug trade, while others create stories from the news headlines.  In the narco Bs, drug traffickers are social bandits who struggle against each other, corrupt police officers, and government officials.  Until recently, women have played marginal roles as lovers, mothers, or daughters. Continue reading →

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Points Toward the Presidency: Mitt Romney

Editor’s Note: In this, the penultimate installment of our series of profiles of the Republican presidential candidates, guest blogger Kelsey Harclerode examines the policy stances of former Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney and finds them–like the rest of his candidacy–completely unsurprising and largely uninspiring.

Mitt Romney: a Man and his Vision

Willard Mitt Romney: the Republican candidate you hate to love. As our friends at Stop the Drug War have pointed out, Romney has done his best to avoid establishing a clear drug policy.  But despite his best efforts, a review of his actions as the Governor of Massachusetts and his statements on the 2008 and 2012 campaign trail have established one for him—which might best be summed up by the chorus of En Vogue’s hit “My Lovin’ (Never Gonna Get It).”  As in, “never gonna get” legal medical marijuana, “never gonna get” a true end to the drug war, and—as so often seems the case for Romney—“never gonna get” a distinctive or ideologically coherent overall policy.

Like the majority of the Republicans in the race, Romney supports the drug war…at least most of the time. During his time as the Governor of Massachusetts, he had a generally “tough on drug crime” stance: in 2004 he supported a crackdown on drunk drivers that aimed to bring Massachusetts’ notoriously lax penalties into line with federal norms. In 2005, his administration introduced legislation that would increase the penalties and fines for those charged with possession with intent to manufacture methamphetamines.  And  Romney proposed legislation that would provide funding for school districts that drug tested their students (though there is little evidence that many districts took him up on this offer).

His positions on the international dimensions of the war on drugs are a little less clear.  Continue reading →

Week In Review: January 23 to January 27, 2012

We emphasized quality over quantity here at Points this week, as we polished off two excellent series, started a new series on popular attitudes toward drug use and addiction, and featured a number of excellent one-off works. All are worthy of a look so, for your personal reference, please enjoy our Week In Review.

Monday: We kicked off the week with the final instalment of Kelsey Harclerode’s wonderful (and very popular) Points Toward the Presidency Series. Ms. Harclerode gave us the story of former House Speaker Newt Gingrich’s on-again, off-again relationship with illicit substances.

Tuesday: Emily Dufton kicked off her exciting new series “A Debate For the Ages” with a spritely summary of how the American War on Drugs came to be. The story of how the White House Conference on Youth fed the Nixon government’s burgeoning culture war is a chilling look at twentieth century American realpolitik.

Wednesday: On hump day, Matthew Crawford concluded his series on the history of drug innovation with “A History of Science on Drugs.” Professor Crawford’s excellent post gives the reader plenty of food for thought, especially when the author calls for an “applied metaphysics” in drugs history.

Thursday: Contributing Editor Ron Roizen was good enough to alert us to a wonderful post on the University of Virginia’s Out of the Box blog. As we reprint the delightful post “There’s a Reefer Man In Here!”, we tip our collective hats to Dr. Roizen.

Friday: The workweek ended with “Amazon.com for Illegal Drugs,” a beguiling long-form discussion of the website Silk Road. We also provided our readers with a weekly sampling of interesting articles and podcasts with “Friday Reads” (as is our wont).


Friday Reads, Vol. 2

Editor’s Introduction: Because we here at Points believe that an understanding of the past is best supplemented with an eye toward the present (and the future), we offer up this weekly selection of long-form pieces on drug- and alcohol-related issues.

In the past week, we’ve seen the fifth estate double-down on their calls for the governments of the Anglo-American world to end their respective “Wars on Drugs.” On the home front, Daniel Robelo argues that the catastrophic failure of Mexico’s drug wars indicate the fruitlessness of America’s own symbolic crusade. In Britain, billionaire media darling and Global Commission for Drug Policy member Richard Branson calls on the Cameron Government to end the “failed war on drugs.” In Canada, the ruling Conservative Party’s official opposition, the New Democratic Party, are in the midst of choosing a new leader. Cannabis Culture magazine surveys the NDP’s half-dozen leadership hopefuls, finding all six believe it’s time to end the drug war.

On Saturday, the New York Times ran an interesting long-form piece on drug addiction and recovery on college campuses. In “A Bridge to Recovery on Campus,” author Abigail Sullivan Moore discusses the growing prevalence of drug and alcohol addiction recovery-focused dormitories on college campuses throughout the country.

For your listening pleasure: This week’s Scientific American’s “60 Second Science” podcast briefly discusses a study proving that alcohol can double the length of a worm’s life. Meanwhile, NPR’s Amy Pavuk and Tom Parkinson provide a fascinating discussion of the prescription drug abuse panic in Florida on Talk of the Nation.

Lastly, to complement Points’ own “Points Toward the Presidency” series, The Guardian provides a handy reference guide to where each of the remaining Republican candidates for President stands on drugs. While not nearly as charming or provocative as Kelsey Harclerode’s series, it’s a handy reference nonetheless.

Amazon.com for Illegal Drugs?

On January 3, 2009, Satoshi Nakomoto officially created a new currency.  He would call it bitcoin.  No dead presidents, silver, or gold—just thirty-one thousand lines of code.  In an online profile, he said he lived in Japan.  His email address was from a free German service.  Google searches for his name turned up no relevant information.  Nakamoto was a cipher, intentionally remaining anonymous at the time of bitcoin’s creation–and still–at the writing of this post.  So what of the hacker version of the Dos Equis Guy,  “Most Interesting Man in the World 2.0?”

Satoshi: This Could Be You. Go Public.

Motivated in part by frustration over the financial crisis, Nakamoto sought to create a currency impervious to monetary policy or the whims of bankers and politicians. Nakamoto is not the first to try his hand at digital money.  Cypherpunks—the 1990s movement of libertarian cryptographers—dedicated themselves to this very effort unsuccessfully.  Others like cryptographer David Chaum tried in the early 1990s, finding their Sisyphean efforts foundering because of their dependence on the existing infrastructures of government and credit card companies.  Bit gold, RPOW, and b-money—all attempts at digital currency—all failed for this very reason.

Fortunately, bitcoin did away with the third party by publicly distributing the ledger, or what Nakamoto calls the “block chain.”  Amidst concerns about the ability of governments and banks to manage the economy and money supply, bitcoin had found a way to both preserve the anonymity of bitcoin buyers and sellers, but also to prevent fraud.  The bitcoin software encrypts each transaction—the sender and receiver are identified only by a string of numbers—but a public record of every coin’s movement is published across the entire network.  It should come as no surprise to readers that the code for bitcoin was built with the same peer-to-peer technology that facilitates the exchange of pirated movies and music.  In each case, users connect with each other rather than with a central server.  As such, decentralized models continue to offer avenues for those looking to circumvent traditional power brokers such as banks, corporations, and the nation-state.

At this point, you’ve probably asked yourself more than once: What does any of this have to do with drugs?  Fair question.  Quietly, in February of 2011 a website was launched called Silk Road on the so-called secret Internet.  In short, the site allows users to buy and sell heroin, LSD, marijuana, and even Fentanyl lollipops using bitcoin only.  Here’s how it works: Continue reading →

“There’s a Reefer Man in Here!”

Thanks to the eagle eye of Contributing Editor Ron Roizen, who spotted this piece of regional drugs history, we reprint the following courtesy of the “Out of the Box” blog of the Library of Virginia.

Virginia, 1936

In the early morning hours of 31 May 1936, Margaret Jacobs was awakened by a “lumbering in the kitchen.”  She awoke to find the lights blown out and exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy!  There is a ‘reefer’ man in here.”  She saw someone going out the back door, and “he whirled right around then and ran though the front of the house, and then the gun fired twice.”  That’s when she heard her son, George Collins, yell out “Lord, have mercy! I am shot.” Margaret Jacobs sought help from her neighbors, calling out, “Somebody come here. A ‘reefer’ man has been in here and shot George.”  George later died at the Petersburg Hospital from sepsis as a result of the gunshot wound. Neither George Collins nor Margaret Jacobs knew who the shooter was, but a witness was able to identify a man he saw coming out of the home, who had earlier been to his house asking for George. Witnesses believed the shooter to be James Hines, alias Slim, but police were never able to connect Hines to the crime.

While processing Petersburg (Va.) Coroners’ Inquisitions, 1807-1947, I found these references to the “reefer man” intriguing. Early in Virginia’s history, the Jamestown Colony made cannabis cultivation mandatory because hemp was viewed as a critical crop for rope, clothing, and canvas. After the formation of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics in 1930, marijuana was soon regulated as a drug in every state, and, by 1937, with the passing of the Marijuana Tax Act, the production of hemp in addition to marijuana was prohibited.

In the 1930s, marijuana made its presence known in American popular culture. The 1933 film, International House, featured Cab Calloway performing what has become a classic song, “Reefer Man,” about a man who enjoys his marijuana cigarettes.

The mid-1930s soon saw the beginnings of anti-drug propaganda that warned that smoking marijuana would lead to misery, shame, and despair. The most famous propaganda film of this era was the 1936 film Reefer Madness. Originally titled Tell Your Children, Reefer Madness was a film financed by a church group to warn parents melodramatically of the dangers that ensued when high school students were lured by pushers to try marijuana. In the film, the smoking of marijuana soon turns to murder, suicide, attempted rape, and descent into madness.

The 1930s timeframe of this case coincides with the rise of anti-drug propaganda in the United States. There are no references in the coroner’s inquisition to the use of drugs other than Margaret  Jacobs’ remarks, but was this an instance of a drug deal gone bad? Or, did Mrs. Jacobs simply see or hear of the movie and become alarmed about the evil that lurked in the world of the “reefer man” and fear for her son’s involvement?   We may never know these answers, but either way the “reefer man” had made his presence known.

 -Mary Dean Carter, Local Records Archival Assistant

The History of Science on Drugs

Editor’s Note: Points readers who can remember back to 2011 will recall the great posts that guest blogger and early modern historian of science Matthew Crawford brought our way: thoughtful considerations of “disturbance pharmacopeias” and of the tensions between discovery and invention. Today he concludes his series with us by calling for an “applied metaphysics” in drugs history.

What might the history of science on drugs–or, put less euphoniously, the history of the science of drugs– look like? To answer this, we need to consider how the histories of science and of drugs might inform and engage each other.

Higher Order Thinking

In the early decades of the history of science, now nearly a century ago, the field had little to say about drugs. Many thought of the history of science as a cousin to intellectual history and the history of ideas– an association that derived, in part, from early 20th-century conceptions of science as a predominantly philosophical endeavor, which left the work of actually manipulating the material world to other enterprises like technology and medicine. (Think of the earlier distinctions between “pure” and “applied” science, for example.) Drugs, as part of that material world, did not fall under the purview of early history of science.

As a result of scholarship in the last half century or so, we now understand science as an enterprise involving both the via activa and the via contemplativa, and see scientific practitioners as actively engaged in the material world through interactions with instruments, objects, texts, images, and other people. As noted in a 2007 essay by Ken Alder, historians of science took this materialist turn in the 1970s and 1980s; more recently, even historians of “high science” have focused their attention on material objects and practices “in hopes of anchoring cultural histories that they feared might otherwise drift away upon a hermeneutical sea.” One example, among many, of this recent development is Peter Galison’s Einstein’s Clocks, Poincaré’s Maps, an account of the history of Einstein’s theory of relativity, in which Galison puts the material and technical challenges of establishing the simultaneity of the clock at the center of the genesis of this paragon of twentieth-century abstract science. (Think of the recent popularity of the notion of “technoscience” to emphasize the entanglement of science and technology in a variety of ways.)

In the midst of this proliferation of interest in the histories of scientific objects and the material culture of science (broadly defined), drugs have received comparatively little attention. Continue reading →