Dutch coffeeshop policy is successful. It separates the markets for hard and soft drugs, without increasing the latter’s consumption1 and while reducing the cost – financial and moral – of imprisonment.2 In addition to minimising harm, the policy has positive benefits. It allows coffeeshop owners and employees to earn income above board, plus generates revenue from taxes and tourism.3 Yet the policy is not without problems.4 As voiced by personnel, there are objections to holding coffeeshops responsible for the behaviour of non-personnel, for example, minors and street dealers.5 Similar concerns are expressed over the requirement for coffeeshops to supply their de facto legal business through the black market. Nor are the rules entirely clear, as is evident in Chapters 2, 4 and 6, which discuss advertising, the 5 grams allowance and nuisance respectively. These problems are part and parcel of Dutch coffeeshop policy as currently practised. To put it differently, such problems are more or less inherent consequences of the government rules that currently regulate coffeeshops.

Another problem with the rules is that they may lead to conflict between personnel, customers and others who enter coffeeshops. People dislike being controlled. In response, they complain to the controllers, avoid them, seek formal redress or practise toleration.6 They may also retaliate.7 Overthrowing leaders. Shooting police. Yelling at parents. Breaking up with lovers. Writing bad reviews. These are just a few examples of vengeful actions that result from being controlled.8

Cases of rule-based conflict are found throughout this book. Coffeeshop personnel have a livelihood to protect, but put a target on their back by controlling others. They are well aware that enforcing rules causes problems, some of more concern than others. ‘It is hard work’, Ruben reflected discriminatorily, ‘because what are you going to do if there are six black guys coming in [the coffeeshop,] opening their big mouths or whatever?’ When I asked Jana whether she worried about anything, she answered:

When it is time to go, they [troublesome customers] don’t go – that’s the only thing I worry about. I am not saying that this happens every day. But you do have, probably once a month, this annoying person, and maybe I feel a bit intimidated or something. That is the only thing I ever worry about.

Seemingly even small things, such as asking people to take off their hat or sunglasses, can be a catalyst for trouble. Gijs noted: ‘There has been people coming in who have attitude. They don’t like it if they have to [take] their caps off or something, even if we ask it nicely. Then there might have been some shouting like, “Fuck you this” or “Fuck you that”, and then people leave.’ He went on to describe how fear affects rule enforcement among his staff:

I can’t be afraid of how big you are. But I occasionally come in the shop and there are certain people working, and I can see that they didn’t dare to ask [someone to take off his hat] because he is still wearing his hat. Then I just go up to him and say, ‘Excuse me, we have a house rule’. Then it’s, ‘Oh, I’m sorry’. Then the people behind the bar think, ‘Oh, I could have done that’.

Conflicts over rule enforcement may escalate from unkind words to violent threats. Selma described a hostile incident involving her colleague. She begins with the back story:

I had this old neighbour from the sex shop; he was here a few weeks ago and we had a really nice chat. Then a Dutch man came in, he bought a joint and then they started talking with each other all about Ajax [the local football club]. He was really nice.

The man was nice, until he returned intoxicated and surprised not to see Selma. She explained what happened next: ‘That Saturday night, who comes walking in really drunk? This Dutch guy because he had a good time here. But he was really drunk, and he looked at my colleague [Alex] like, “Who the fuck are you?”’ Being drunk is bad enough inside a coffeeshop, but the customer also became, in her words, ‘a bit aggressive’. Due to this disorder, Alex expelled the man. ‘I think he [Alex] took his bag and put it by the door’, Selma continued, ‘and helped him towards it. I thought it was funny because my colleague was saying, “Yeah, I had to push him out of the coffeeshop, blah, blah”, and he was like this [acting like he was pushing a wall].’ The interaction ended with attempted intimidation: ‘He [the drunk guy] said that he would be “coming back” or something like that, so that means he was threatening my colleague.’

Max described a scarier chain of events – ‘a pretty big threat’ – that also resulted from rule enforcement.

We had a guy [customer] that we knew was no good. We had a feeling he was a coke dealer – not one who sells grams, but more like kilos. He was this big bodybuilder guy. One day I am there [at Everybody], and he is sitting there with another big guy with two really big American bulldogs. He was sitting there with big sunglasses on his face.

Max felt obliged to enforce the ban on shades, so he approached the customer and said, ‘Sorry, but can you take your glasses off? We have this house rule.’ Then the man went ‘totally nuts’. Max explained that he started ‘screaming at me and things like that. I was looking at him like, “No, I don’t care”. So he said, “You better call your boss [because they knew each other,] ’cause I am going to kick your ass”.’

As directed, Max called his boss:

He talked to the bodybuilder himself. ‘You are threatening my manager. You cannot come in my shop any more. And I wouldn’t do that [threatening] if I were you. It’s not very smart. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, and you know I won’t put up with this.’ The guy simply responded: ‘Yeah, but.’ My boss continued: ‘Why are you reacting in this way? You know I have a house rule. He only asked you to take off your glasses.’

The counter-threat and explanation successfully handled Max’s troublemaker, as ‘then he didn’t go into the shop any more’.

For personnel, the worst-case scenario is for rule-based arguments to result in violent victimisation. For example, Jasper recounted that at The Hour, there was ‘a guy [who] couldn’t come in because his behaviour was not good and it was too busy. He went a little bit crazy [in response]. He started to try to hit the bouncers’. Though it is unlikely to cause bodily injury, spitting on someone is assault.9 At Alike All Over, Jack told me:

I had this Eastern European, crazy lunatic. He had been in the shop before. I remembered him being an odd one, and possibly having asked him to leave in the past. I was sat down eating my lunch and one of my colleagues, a young girl, was serving drinks. This guy kind of pushed in front of somebody she was serving and started demanding things. She said to him, ‘Just wait a minute’. Then he started shouting again, and she said to him, ‘I am not going to serve you if you are going to be rude’. The guy just jumped up and spat on her!

Jack also described how being high versus drunk affects people’s response to being controlled. ‘[When] people are stoned, the chances of aggression are really slim. The fact is that levels of aggression are generally low among stoned people, with the chances of a disagreement reaching a level of physical confrontation being really slim.’ Conversely, alcohol increases the likelihood of control leading to aggression: ‘Whenever there has been any sort of [violent] incident, it is drunk people. It has always been somebody who has had far too much to drink. It has been one of my staff members escorting them out of the building, then there could be a bit of pushing and shoving.’ Jack illustrates that process with a case he experienced:

Generally, my hand on someone’s shoulder is enough to let them know it is time to leave. Normally, I deal with it by sitting down with them at the table and saying, ‘Look mate, I think you have had a little bit too much to drink. Tonight is not the night to be in a coffeeshop. Away you go’. Sometimes people take offence at that and take a swing at me. I kind of laugh at their drunkenness and escort them out of the shop.

There was a geezer in here, probably about three months ago. It was such a funny conversation because I had my arm on his shoulder because I had taken him out of the shop. I said, ‘Look mate, you are a little drunk, and I don’t think smoking is going to do you any good tonight’. He was too drunk to manage a sentence really, but he was kind of taking offence at me escorting him out. So he had a really feeble effort at a head-butt at me, and kind of nearly fell over. ‘Why did you just do that mate? I am being friendly here.’ Then he took a swing at me. I said, ‘Mate, that is really not necessary, on you go’, and turned him round and walked him on his way. Then he sort of shrugged and walked off.

Persons who take offence at rule enforcement lash out in other violent ways. Linda recalled ‘one incident with my manager. The guy wanted to go in and he [the manager] said, “No, sorry, you are too drunk, and alcohol and coffeeshops don’t go together”. Then he [the drunk guy] slapped him.’ Unfortunately for that same manager, on a separate occasion he was poked in the neck for the same reason. Another employee of No Return, James, told me the story:

The guy wanted to go into the coffeeshop and the manager refused him, like ‘Sorry’. He was trying to talk to the guy. ‘Hey you are drunk, blah, blah, I can’t let you in.’ Then the guy poked him in the neck with his fingers like this [fingers out and pressing against each other, really hard, in his neck]. I think he was searching for some [pressure] points. I think it was a combination of the booze and the refusal [that caused the aggression].

Rule-based retaliation shows that controlling others is risky. Then again, so is not exerting control. Many times a day, personnel have to ask themselves: Should I control a particular act by someone? If so, how? Every option has benefits and costs, though these vary by circumstance. Of course, those questions are not unique to coffeeshop personnel. We ask them of ourselves. We ask them of others. What, if anything, should be done to control something ‘bad’? This question is asked by and of everyone: politicians, police, parents, lovers, teachers and more. If our guiding moral philosophy is hedonism,10 specifically the type preached by Jeremy Bentham,11 a ‘good’ approach is one with utility, meaning more benefit than cost; the ‘best’ approach is therefore that with the most utility.12

Does the Dutch coffeeshop policy have utility? The most honest answer I can give – indeed, that anyone can give – is ‘maybe’. A complete and accurate assessment of the policy’s benefits and costs is extremely difficult to generate. Perhaps it is impossible, if direct measurement and the variety of pleasures and pains are taken seriously.13 Certainly, my data preclude such an analysis. Even more certainly, I would be remiss to compare the utility of Dutch coffeeshop policy to that of alternatives, such as a full-scale war on drugs or pure laissez-faire legalisation. There are too many factors to consider, such as effects on drug use, health, taxes, public expenditure, law enforcement, crime, nuisance and liberty.14 And then there is the problem of different morals leading to different ways of weighing each variable.

In these closing pages, allow me to share my thoughts as an individual, not strictly in my role as a social scientist. In my teenage years I believed legalisation and decriminalisation were better than prohibition for controlling cannabis. This belief stemmed from my personal policy: don’t tell me what to do; let me be me. My first trip to Amsterdam, described in the Preface, reaffirmed my view that ‘less is more’ in the realm of social control.15 Back in the States, first while in college and then graduate school, I gained understanding of what is wrong with prohibition: it is expensive; it puts many people behind bars; it breaks up family, friends and community cohesion; it exacerbates tension between police and citizens. Those are only a few of the problems.16

Yet my extended stay in Amsterdam taught me something about drug policy, and about social control more generally: in order to reduce bad things, people must be told both what to do and what not to do; their autonomy must be limited. People must be not only scared out of acting ‘bad’ (i.e. deterred), but also scared into stopping others from doing so (i.e. proterred). It is not a sunny view of human nature, but I believe it is valid. Frequently I abstain from being bad due to fear of what would otherwise result. Don’t you do the same?17 To argue in favour of fear need not – should not, I hope – have draconian results. Again, if Bentham’s hedonism is our guide, the minimum amount of fear necessary to effect a ‘good’ outcome is optimal. This is because fear, like punishment, is a cost, and more cost equates to less utility.18 To that point, fear is not only a bedfellow of prohibition and criminal punishment. Fear lies with rules and associated civil penalties, such as those controlling Dutch coffeeshops. Rules – formal and informal, de jure and de facto – guide decision-making and action.19 In theory, rules are effective to the extent they are clear, known and associated with larger, more certain and faster acting benefits and costs.20

A problem, it could be said, with criminalisation is that it lacks regulation. Likewise I suspect that decriminalisation and legalisation are less effective when not paired with a set of rules that are properly crafted and enforced to achieve a set of goals. In Amsterdam, for instance, decriminalisation per se is not what separates the markets for hard and soft drugs. Rather what works is giving coffeeshops an incentive – namely, the potential to profit openly from cannabis sales – to keep hard drugs away from users.

Nor is legalisation necessarily better than decriminalisation for reducing drug-related problems such as violence.21 It depends on the rules themselves. An example is that customer fights are 10 times less common in Amsterdam’s (decriminalised) coffeeshops than in (legal) bars.22 No doubt, the psychopharmacological effects of cannabis versus alcohol explain some of the difference.23 What also matters, however, is that government rules motivate personnel of coffeeshops, more so than those of bars, to control problems.24 I will provide evidence of this in my research on violence, theft and destruction in Amsterdam’s coffeeshops.