Inside
Dope (by Quentin Hardy)
In the quiet
countryside just outside Vancouver, B.C. an ambitious young entrepreneur
surveys a blindingly bright room filled with lovely plants--dozens
of stalks of high-power marijuana. Almost ready for harvest, they
hold threadlike, resin-frosted pot flowers, rust-and-white "buds"
thickening in a base of green-and-purple leaves. The room reeks
of citrus and menthol, a drug-rich musk lingering on fingertips
and clothes.
"There's
no way I won't make a million dollars," says the entrepreneur,
David (one-name sources throughout this story are pseudonymous).
He runs several other sites like this one, reaping upwards of
$80,000 in a ten-week cycle. Says he: "Even if they bust
me for one, I'm covered."
So, it seems,
is much of Canada--covered with thousands of small, high-tech
marijuana
"grows," as the indoor farms are known. Small-time marijuana
growing is already a big business in Canada. It is likely to get
bigger, despite all the efforts of the antidrug crowd in Washington,
D.C. On Oct. 14 the U.S. Supreme Court, by refusing to disturb
an appeals court ruling, gave its stamp of approval to doctors
who want to recommend weed to ease their patients' pain or nausea.
In the U.S. nine states have enacted laws permitting marijuana
use by people with cancer, AIDS and other wasting diseases. The
Canadians are even more cannabis-tolerant; although they have
not legalized the drug, they are loath to stomp out the growers.
This illicit industry has emerged as Canada's most valuable agricultural
product--bigger than wheat, cattle or timber.
Canadian dope,
boosted by custom nutrients, high-intensity metal halide lights
and 20 years of breeding, is five times as potent as what America
smoked in the 1970s. With prices reaching $2,700 a pound wholesale,
the trade takes in somewhere between $4 billion (in U.S. dollars)
nationwide and $7 billion just in the province of British Columbia,
depending on which side of the law you believe.
In the U.S.
the never-ending war on drugs endures, to modest discernible effect.
In a largely symbolic act the U.S. Justice Department has just
imprisoned an icon of the pot-happy 1970s--Tommy Chong of the
old Cheech & Chong comedy team--for selling bongs on the Internet
(see box, p. 154). But in Canada the trade in pot, or cannabis
(as many Canadians call it), is an almost welcome offset at a
time when British Columbia's economy is in the doldrums.
Tourism here
is down, and thousands of jobs got axed when the U.S. slapped
tariffs on exports of softwood and then banned Canadian beef after
an outbreak of mad cow disease. The marijuana business, by contrast,
is thriving, not least because Canada shares a thinly guarded
5,000-mile border with the U.S., a big market. Ultimately much
of the revenue flows into the coffers of hundreds of legitimate
businesses selling supplies, electricity and everything else to
the growers and smugglers.
And who are
these growers? Not a small coterie of drug lords who could be
decimated with a few well-targeted prosecutions, but an army of
ordinary folks. "I know at least a hundred [of them], 20
years old to 70," says Robert Smith, who isn't part of the
trade but indirectly profits from it at the furniture store he
owns in Grand Forks, B.C., 110 miles north of Spokane, Wash. "Of
the money coming through my door, 15% to 20% comes from cannabis--we'd
be on welfare without it."
Mexico remains
the biggest supplier of foreign pot for U.S. consumers, growing
valleys of lower-grade grass and sending it north; some 500 tons
of pot were seized at the Mexican border in 2001, more than 100
times the volume confiscated at the Canadian boundary. California
is a prodigious supplier, as well. But Canada's industry is notable
for its dispersion. The scattered and all but undetectable production
may well herald a modus operandi for other regions.
Small growers
like David bring in $900 a pound at the low end, with net margins
of 55% to 90%, depending on quality, depreciation and labor costs.
They produce half a pound to 30 pounds every ten weeks, selling
their product to local users or peddling it to "accumulators,"
who then smuggle it over the border or sell it up the chain to
larger brokers. Accumulators and brokers typically add $80 a pound
to the cost, as do the high-volume smugglers who buy from them.
Smugglers returning money to Canada for other dealers skim a 2%
laundering fee.
"The
first time somebody gives you a bag of money so heavy that you
can't lift it, it's surreal. Pretty soon, it's just dirty paper,"
says Jeff, who recently retired from smuggling up to a ton of
weed a week.
SOURCE:
Forbes.com