What I will tell my son about cannabis

Consider it from the plant's point of view. At some point in its evolution, cannabis discovered that giving animals a buzz was a great way of ensuring the distribution of its seed.

It turns out that no animal likes a buzz as much as humans, who have employed our legendary ingenuity in amplifying the high and propagating the weed.

Now we find ourselves divided over the consequences. The majority of smokers try it, like it or don't, and move on. Some of us get into it and give it a lot of our time. Of those, some find ways of fitting lives around it, as fans, growers, dealers or all three. Others get into it and end up in terrible trouble: either because we start too young, or do too much, or have fragile minds, or all of the above.

Even a second's psychosis is no fun, as anyone who has had even a moment of the Fear will know. A week, a month or a year of it is a kind of living hell.

So we stand now in a weed field of paradoxes: cannabis is both quite safe and very dangerous. It would be better if no one did it but lots will do it, and morally, that is their right. It's the drug we use most and understand least. Its charm is its peril: everyone has a different response.

The debate now is reminiscent of a roomful of smokers, some laughing and high, some blushingly silent (difficult to contribute if you have an employer, a media, an entire society who will do you for "drugs"), some apathetic, and some in the corner, unwell. Looking in from the doorway are the legislators, wondering what on earth they should do.

The answer may well be clear to them: legalisation and education. It is the only approach, worldwide, which has ever been shown to work. But can you imagine what talk show TV and the tabloids would say? The public and the politicians are ahead of the media on this, and we all know it: complexity does not sell papers, while simple headlines do. (I know, I have tried to tell a complex, truthful story about dope, and seen it reduced in the papers to mush.)

Since hitherto we have acquiesced in what cannabis wanted from us, let us now consider our needs. Since the politicians cannot or will not help us, we must help ourselves. I have had the best and worst of times with dope, and have thought about what I will tell my son.

I will tell him that while he is young he is vulnerable, because his brain is growing. I will say that thanks to me, there is a history of instablility in his family: he must be twice as cautious as his friends. He should be protected, I will tell him: there should be a minimum age (I have never met a smoker who wished they had started earlier) but there isn't, so I will advise him to avoid it, and at the very least that he should wait.

I will explain that cannabis is a health issue that has been criminalised. I will not find him morally wrong, or rebellious, or stupid or self-destructive or incomprehensible if he decides to try. I will describe what psychosis is like: not because he will get it, but because there is a chance that he will. I will explain that the problem is like roulette: you only know the gun is loaded for you when it fires. I will tell him what it feels like, to have a shattered mind.

If and when he does try (and hell, he'll have my genes) I will roll him one thick with common sense. A little of what you fancy is probably fine. The more you use it, the more chance there is of it using you. The stronger it is, the more dangerous it is: skunk is just not worth it. The dangers are much greater, and the high, while more intense, is also less fun than gentler strains of weed. And of course it will all kill you, just like cigarettes do, in exactly the same ways.

And I will apologise to him. We knew so much but we refused to speak up. Our newspapers did not reflect the experiences of their writers. We knew what was best but we failed to push for it. Our politicians chose power over responsibility. We looked across the channel, at the honesty and maturity of Dutch policies, and we turned away. We saw a link between the most unequal society in Europe (ours) and the most drug-hungry (ours again) and failed to do anything about it. I will tug on his sleeve, and tell him my tales, but until it is uncool, clearly licensed and labelled, I will forgive him for going to find out my way, the hard way, the young way: for himself.