Ron Strider
Well-Known Member
Yes, the world really has turned upside down: We now have Republicans endorsing cannabis.
Well, not just any kind of cannabis.
Last week, unbeknownst to each other, both U.S. Rep. Bob Goodlatte and Republican gubernatorial candidate Ed Gillespie endorsed the strain of cannabis popularly known as "industrial hemp."
What's going on here? Goodlatte and Gillespie aren't free-thinking mavericks; they're the most normal Republicans around. When did Republicans like that turn into hempsters?
To fully understand the answer, we must look at biology – and history. Hemp sure looks like marijuana. Scientifically speaking, it's the same species. But it's as different from marijuana as, say, Chihuahuas are from Saint Bernards. The key difference is this: Hemp won't get you high. Your garden-variety marijuana (we use the term metaphorically, unless you really do have some pot among the petunias) is buzzing with tetrahydrocannabinol, the compound that gets you high. Hemp is not.
What hemp is, however, is remarkably strong and versatile. In Colonial times, its fibrous stalks were used in making rope, cloth and canvas; growing hemp was a patriotic act. The seeds can be eaten or turned into all manner of things, from beauty products to varnish, from construction materials to paints. However, because hemp is cannabis, it got swept up in the 1930s crackdown on "reefer madness." In the eyes of the Drug Enforcement Agency, it's a drug – an illegal one. Well, sort of.
In 2014, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky – here we go with the Republicans – included a provision in the federal farm bill to allow hemp farming under certain conditions. All politics is local, and McConnell was keen to help farmers in his state find a replacement crop for tobacco.
The two main conditions were that a state had to give its OK – state's rights! – and then any hemp had to be grown purely for "research purposes." So far, 32 states have given their approval.
In Virginia, the push to allow hemp was led first by Jim Politis, a Montgomery County farmer and, at the time, a member of the county board of supervisors. A Republican member. In the General Assembly, the top hemp champion was Del. Joseph Yost, R-Giles County. Are you sensing a trend?
Their argument was a classic Republican small-business pitch: Growing hemp would be a pro-growth measure for rural areas. Why should federal drug bureaucracy regulate something that isn't actually a drug? Isn't that kind of a classic definition of over-regulation? Yost is not exactly a cookie-cutter Republican, and his fascination with hemp only helped to color him as a different sort of Republican. Over time, though, what once were fringe ideas started seeping into the mainstream.
Last year, Virginia saw its first hemp crops in generations. These were grown either on research farms at Virginia Tech and Virginia State or on private farms working under contract for James Madison University. This year, another 102 acres of hemp is in the ground, once again for research purposes. There's a difference, though, between growing hemp and being able to sell it.
Farmers have no incentive to grow hemp if they have no way to sell their product, and they can't sell their crop if there are no hemp buyers around. What entrepreneur has the incentive to invest a processing plant for something the feds still classify as a "controlled substance"?
Remarkably, some have risked it anyway. Colorado and Kentucky have quickly given birth to hemp-related industries. Farmers there may be growing hemp purely for the federally-mandated "research purposes," but they can their sell their "experiments" to hemp processors creating hemp-based foods, cosmetics and whatnot. In North Carolina, 10 companies are now licensed to take hemp and turn it into marketable products. (One of them is founded by the unsuccessful Republican candidate for attorney general in 2008, who delivers a passionate state's right argument for why the feds should butt out of North Carolina's business.) Virginia's hemp law, though, is so restrictive that commercial operations are effectively impossible. In Virginia, "research" really does mean "research."
That's where Gillespie comes in. The Republican candidate made headlines when he told a farm conference in Roanoke last week that he supported industrial hemp. He said he had heard from lots of farmers in Southside who wanted to grow hemp, and had satisfied himself that hemp is really quite safe and useful.
Gillespie's endorsement is kind of a big deal. Politically, it might reassure skittish legislators in a Republican-controlled General Assembly. Beyond the politics, though, hemp represents a real economic opportunity for rural communities. It's not just farmers who would benefit by having a new cash crop. Presumably, any hemp processors would want to be near the crops, so here's an opportunity to create manufacturing jobs in rural Virginia. Gillespie deserves credit for some creative thinking on this one.
Ultimately, though, the potential for a hemp industry is constrained by those federal drug laws. That's what Goodlatte would change. Once a hemp skeptic, he's now convinced there's a real economic opportunity here. Just because hemp looks like marijuana is "not sufficient to stop a whole industry from going forward," he says. Goodlatte, significantly, is chairman of the House Judiciary Committee. Presumably, his sponsorship of the Industrial Hemp Farming Act of 2017 might allay any concerns from law-and-order legislators. Goodlatte is not exactly some back-to-the-land hippie; he's as mainstream a Republican as there is. If the ever-cautious Goodlatte is for hemp farming, the politics of hemp really have changed.
There's even a Trumpian "America First" argument to be made for hemp. The United States imports upwards of $600 million worth of hemp-based products each year – so American law allows hemp products, it just doesn't make it easy for American companies to make them. Our hemp laws have the same effect as one of those "bad trade deals" that Trump likes to complain about; it stifles job creation, especially in rural areas. "That didn't sit well with me," Goodlatte says. He thinks it's possible Congress could pass his bill before the 2018 mid-terms.
Hemp once was key cash crop in early America. This really is a chance to make America great again.
News Moderator: Ron Strider 420 MAGAZINE ®
Full Article: Editorial: How Republicans came to love hemp | Opinion | roanoke.com
Contact: Contact Us | Site | roanoke.com
Photo Credit: Office of Rep Bob Goodlatte
Website: roanoke.com | News, weather, and sports in Roanoke and Blacksburg, VA
Well, not just any kind of cannabis.
Last week, unbeknownst to each other, both U.S. Rep. Bob Goodlatte and Republican gubernatorial candidate Ed Gillespie endorsed the strain of cannabis popularly known as "industrial hemp."
What's going on here? Goodlatte and Gillespie aren't free-thinking mavericks; they're the most normal Republicans around. When did Republicans like that turn into hempsters?
To fully understand the answer, we must look at biology – and history. Hemp sure looks like marijuana. Scientifically speaking, it's the same species. But it's as different from marijuana as, say, Chihuahuas are from Saint Bernards. The key difference is this: Hemp won't get you high. Your garden-variety marijuana (we use the term metaphorically, unless you really do have some pot among the petunias) is buzzing with tetrahydrocannabinol, the compound that gets you high. Hemp is not.
What hemp is, however, is remarkably strong and versatile. In Colonial times, its fibrous stalks were used in making rope, cloth and canvas; growing hemp was a patriotic act. The seeds can be eaten or turned into all manner of things, from beauty products to varnish, from construction materials to paints. However, because hemp is cannabis, it got swept up in the 1930s crackdown on "reefer madness." In the eyes of the Drug Enforcement Agency, it's a drug – an illegal one. Well, sort of.
In 2014, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky – here we go with the Republicans – included a provision in the federal farm bill to allow hemp farming under certain conditions. All politics is local, and McConnell was keen to help farmers in his state find a replacement crop for tobacco.
The two main conditions were that a state had to give its OK – state's rights! – and then any hemp had to be grown purely for "research purposes." So far, 32 states have given their approval.
In Virginia, the push to allow hemp was led first by Jim Politis, a Montgomery County farmer and, at the time, a member of the county board of supervisors. A Republican member. In the General Assembly, the top hemp champion was Del. Joseph Yost, R-Giles County. Are you sensing a trend?
Their argument was a classic Republican small-business pitch: Growing hemp would be a pro-growth measure for rural areas. Why should federal drug bureaucracy regulate something that isn't actually a drug? Isn't that kind of a classic definition of over-regulation? Yost is not exactly a cookie-cutter Republican, and his fascination with hemp only helped to color him as a different sort of Republican. Over time, though, what once were fringe ideas started seeping into the mainstream.
Last year, Virginia saw its first hemp crops in generations. These were grown either on research farms at Virginia Tech and Virginia State or on private farms working under contract for James Madison University. This year, another 102 acres of hemp is in the ground, once again for research purposes. There's a difference, though, between growing hemp and being able to sell it.
Farmers have no incentive to grow hemp if they have no way to sell their product, and they can't sell their crop if there are no hemp buyers around. What entrepreneur has the incentive to invest a processing plant for something the feds still classify as a "controlled substance"?
Remarkably, some have risked it anyway. Colorado and Kentucky have quickly given birth to hemp-related industries. Farmers there may be growing hemp purely for the federally-mandated "research purposes," but they can their sell their "experiments" to hemp processors creating hemp-based foods, cosmetics and whatnot. In North Carolina, 10 companies are now licensed to take hemp and turn it into marketable products. (One of them is founded by the unsuccessful Republican candidate for attorney general in 2008, who delivers a passionate state's right argument for why the feds should butt out of North Carolina's business.) Virginia's hemp law, though, is so restrictive that commercial operations are effectively impossible. In Virginia, "research" really does mean "research."
That's where Gillespie comes in. The Republican candidate made headlines when he told a farm conference in Roanoke last week that he supported industrial hemp. He said he had heard from lots of farmers in Southside who wanted to grow hemp, and had satisfied himself that hemp is really quite safe and useful.
Gillespie's endorsement is kind of a big deal. Politically, it might reassure skittish legislators in a Republican-controlled General Assembly. Beyond the politics, though, hemp represents a real economic opportunity for rural communities. It's not just farmers who would benefit by having a new cash crop. Presumably, any hemp processors would want to be near the crops, so here's an opportunity to create manufacturing jobs in rural Virginia. Gillespie deserves credit for some creative thinking on this one.
Ultimately, though, the potential for a hemp industry is constrained by those federal drug laws. That's what Goodlatte would change. Once a hemp skeptic, he's now convinced there's a real economic opportunity here. Just because hemp looks like marijuana is "not sufficient to stop a whole industry from going forward," he says. Goodlatte, significantly, is chairman of the House Judiciary Committee. Presumably, his sponsorship of the Industrial Hemp Farming Act of 2017 might allay any concerns from law-and-order legislators. Goodlatte is not exactly some back-to-the-land hippie; he's as mainstream a Republican as there is. If the ever-cautious Goodlatte is for hemp farming, the politics of hemp really have changed.
There's even a Trumpian "America First" argument to be made for hemp. The United States imports upwards of $600 million worth of hemp-based products each year – so American law allows hemp products, it just doesn't make it easy for American companies to make them. Our hemp laws have the same effect as one of those "bad trade deals" that Trump likes to complain about; it stifles job creation, especially in rural areas. "That didn't sit well with me," Goodlatte says. He thinks it's possible Congress could pass his bill before the 2018 mid-terms.
Hemp once was key cash crop in early America. This really is a chance to make America great again.
News Moderator: Ron Strider 420 MAGAZINE ®
Full Article: Editorial: How Republicans came to love hemp | Opinion | roanoke.com
Contact: Contact Us | Site | roanoke.com
Photo Credit: Office of Rep Bob Goodlatte
Website: roanoke.com | News, weather, and sports in Roanoke and Blacksburg, VA
