With delay in establishing political structures in the country and reduced international donor support, the situation with harm reduction services in Bosnia Herzegovina became alarming. Here is what we heard from Denis Dedajić, Chairman of the Association Margina and DPNSEE Board member:

"The current situation is as follows: the Margin Association is the only survivor with the services and we provide them now and on a larger scale because no other service provided by other NGOs is active, so all clients have turned to us. We are taking over users and equipment from Sarajevo and we shall organise distribution with support of few gatekeepers who used to work for us recently.

The situation is further complicated by a few things. What concerns us most are the indolence of the authorities and the large waves of migrants coming to Bosnia and Herzegovina. Yesterday, I was in contact with asylum officers and they informed me that about 1.000 immigrants a day enter northern Bosnia and in different ways move west to the border with Croatia and the EU respectively. They aim at Western Europe, but their psycho-physical condition is very poor. There is an increasing number of fatalities, both as a result of illness (quite a large number of TB and Hepatitis C), which is due to conflicts between groups from different countries (Afghanistan Pakistan, Algeria Morocco, Syria, Bangladesh). These conflicts generally end with very serious injuries by knives or other cold weapons. We have had about 100 contacts so far and have been using sterile injection supplies. According to asylum officers, many drug users have been around for several years.

NO one is doing anything on this issue, and we are simply waiting for when a major incident will occur so that everything will surface."

We sincerely hope that a solution will be found soon to revitalize the harm reduction services and ensure health support needed.

Alarming harm reduction situation in Bosnia Herzegovina

In New Zealand, cannabis is classified as an illegal drug under the Misuse of Drugs Act 1975. Its possession, use and supply are subject variously to penalties ranging in severity from fines to many years of imprisonment. On Wednesday, the Helen Clark Foundation released a report which sets out the case for legalising and regulating cannabis. New Zealanders have the opportunity to vote for that in a referendum next year.

A growing number of jurisdictions have been moving away from the prohibitionist approach promoted by the international conventions. Canada, Uruguay and several states in the United States have legalised the possession, use and supply of cannabis. Other jurisdictions have decriminalised personal possession and use, but not supply. The proposal to be put to the New Zealand referendum will be to legalise and regulate, with the exact form that takes yet to be determined.

A recent amendment to New Zealand’s Misuse of Drugs Act has directed police only to prosecute those using drugs when there is a “public interest” in doing so. The government has been clear that it wants to take a health and wellbeing-based approach to those who use drugs. The emphasis on police discretion, however, means that prosecutions for cannabis use and possession would still remain possible, and prosecutions for supply would continue as they do now.

The time has come for New Zealand to face up to the widespread use and supply of cannabis in the country and to legalise it and regulate it accordingly. No useful purpose is served by maintaining its illegal status. A “yes” vote in the 2020 referendum will be positive for social justice and equity, contribute to reducing the country’s excessively large prison population, and enable those health issues associated with cannabis to be dealt with upfront.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/sep/04/cannabis-prohibition-doesnt-work-anywhere-its-new-zealands-turn-to-legalise-it?CMP=twt_a-world_b-gdnworld

Cannabis prohibition doesn't work anywhere. It's New Zealand's turn to legalise it

Thailand’s health ministry received its first batch of legal medical marijuana Wednesday to be distributed in state-run hospitals.

The bottles of extracted cannabis oil will be distributed to 12 hospitals and administered to qualified patients including those who are part of a research program and those undergoing chemotherapy.

Thailand’s legislature agreed to amend the country’s drug law last year to allow the licensed medical use of marijuana, as well as kratom, a locally grown plant traditionally used as a stimulant and painkiller.

Anutin said he believes marijuana should be classified as medicine because it can relieve seizures and Parkinson’s disease and side effects from chemotherapy.

Extracted cannabis oil produced by the Thai government has three variations, one with tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), one with cannabidiol (CBD), and another with both components. The Government Pharmaceutical Organization said its products contain safe levels of the chemical components derived from marijuana plants.

Thai health ministry receives cannabis oil for medical use

Formerly incarcerated women from eight countries across the Americas are taking steps towards building a regional network to share experiences and push for policy reforms, in the face of a concerning, regionwide increase in incarceration rates that are disproportionately impacting women.

In the first-ever regional workshop to bring together formerly incarcerated women from Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Ecuador, El Salvador, Mexico, and the United States, participants aimed to examine the situation of formerly incarcerated women in the Americas, identify the commonalities among them, and share strategies of organization and resistance, with the ultimate goal 

of building the foundations of a regional network of women from the Americas who have been in prison.

The workshop, titled “Women Resisting, Bringing Down Bars,” was organized by Corporacion Humanas Colombia, Free Women (

 Colombia), and the Washington Office on Latin America (WOLA), and took place in Bogota, Colombia, on July 17-18, 2019. Some 66 participants were involved, including 45 formerly incarcerated women, several family members, and representatives from other accompanying organizations.

The ample research and testimonies shared in the workshop provided stark evidence that criminal justice systems across the Americas are based on a culture of punishment which has been extremely detrimental to women, their families and their communities, while also failing to provide the resources and tools for women to rebuild their lives when leaving prison. Current incarceration policies criminalize poverty, violate women’s rights, and reinforce cycles of violence.

Formerly incarcerated women in the Americas connect in first-ever regional workshop

By David A Guba, Jr., for The Conversation

Last summer in France, dozens of “CBD cafés” suddenly opened across the country.

Exploiting a legal loophole originally created for hemp farmers, these pop-up businesses sold queuing customers oils, drinks and salves infused with cannabidiol, a cannabis compound that is a faddish if unproven “cure” for insomnia, anxiety and more. The French government reacted quickly and by mid-June had officially prohibited the sale of CBD. The CBD cafés vanished within a month.

But France’s brief experiment with cannabidiol seems to have started a movement to legalize cannabis, which has been illegal since 1970.

On June 19, dozens of French economists, physicians and politicians published an open letter in the popular news magazine L’Obs, denouncing the “bankruptcy” of cannabis prohibition and imploring the nation to “Légalisons-Le!” Soon after, an economic advisory council to the French prime minister released a report criticizing France’s drug war as a costly “French failure” and calling for cannabis legalization on financial grounds.

Then, in July, France’s drug safety agency approved the launch of medical cannabis trials in France — something physicians and activists have pushed for since 2013.

France’s drug policy debate largely echoes similar conversations that have lead a dozen U.S. states to legalize and regulate cannabis since 2014, but for one difference: France has all but ignored the link between race, cannabis and mass incarceration.

French cannabis legalisation debate ignores race, religion and the mass incarceration of Muslims

In the early hours of August 29, Iván Márquez, a former Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) commander and the group’s lead peace negotiator in Havana, joined two other former commanders of the guerrilla group in announcing they would be taking up arms once again, nearly three years after the historic signing of the peace accords with the Colombian government. Their decision is a wake-up call to the majority of Colombians and the international community who want peace: now is the critical moment to redouble efforts to ensure the full implementation of the peace accords.

This renewed call to arms is a reaction to the lack of political will to implement all aspects of the peace accord and a troubling rise in violence over the last year—both armed-group actions and a horrific wave of attacks on social leaders—that have undermined the transformative promises of the accord, like comprehensive rural reform, coca substitution, and political space for the peaceful opposition.

In particular, the Colombian government’s shortcomings in fully supporting the reintegration of ex-combatants, along with regular attacks on crucial truth and justice initiatives, have done little to bolster the faith that the FARC’s leadership and rank-and-file could place in the accords. The killing and disappearance of a reported 126 demobilized fighters have also fueled the argument by several FARC leaders that disarmament has only left them vulnerable to a campaign of violence. Also contributing to a recent rise in tensions was a new transition phase for the 24 reintegration zones where ex-FARC combatants are supposed to receive job training and other support to better transition back into civilian life: 13 reintegration zones are now supposed to be made permanent, with another 11 relocated. Compounding the situation, the United States government has recently failed to voice public support for the peace process, a dangerous signal to Colombia that U.S. support is waning.

However, a lasting peace is still within Colombia’s grasp. Crucially, the FARC political party has reaffirmed its commitment to peace and criticized the defectors’ announcement. It is also unclear how many of the over 13,000 demobilized fighters will respond to the hardline defectors’ calls to rearm.

 Iván Márquez rearming is a wake-up call: Efforts to fully implement the Colombian Peace Accords need to be escalated

Unsanctioned grassroots initiatives—from the unofficial to the plain illegal—are both the origins and the soul of the harm reduction movement. From syringe programs and drug-checking services to safe consumption sites and heroin-assisted treatment, harm reductionists have long been willing to move much faster than evolving laws and regulations to protect marginalized people’s health and save lives.

While these interventions are now legal in many places, they remain illegal or unsanctioned in many more. Amid a crisis of drug-related deaths in many parts of the world—and despite concerns in some places that medicalization has sidelined drug-user activism—the determination not to waste time waiting for the official go-ahead while people are dying remains strong.

In the US, harm reductionists working in the face of formidable political barriers nevertheless have cause for hope. “I think we’re in a moment of change in the US,” Miriam Krinsky, a former federal prosecutor who is now the executive director of Fair and Just Prosecution, told 

. “I think it’s not out of the question … that we might see a major change in how the US approaches a host of drug policies.”

From my perspective in Canada, where harm reduction regulation is further advanced but still sorely lacking, I looked into several areas where forward-thinking activists and practitioners are driving change today.

Five of the ways unsanctioned harm reduction continues to blaze trails

Two thirds of beneficiaries who fail drug tests are still hit with sanctions, despite an admission last year it "doesn't help people become employed and independent".

People on benefits were put forward for almost 40,000 roles that required drug testing in the year to June, 2019. Clients could be referred to multiple roles that needed drug testing.

Of the tests carried out, 114 failed. That included those who refused the test or did not turn up. It is not known how many tests were actually carried out.

Last year, the Ministry of Social Development's (MSD) deputy chief executive Viv Rickard said applying sanctions did not help.

"For normal New Zealanders, they will think we can stop their benefit.

"Of course we can, but that's not our mode of approach, that's not our operating model because doing that doesn't help people become employed and independent," he told 1 NEWS at the time.

Despite this view, official information obtained by 1 NEWS showed the Ministry went on to impose 72 sanctions.

The Green Party called it a breach of trust.

"I take that as Work and Income breaking their promise to people and I think that really undermines the trust in the system," said Green MP Jan Logie.

Last year, Social Development Minister Carmel Sepuloni said she agreed the sanctions were "stigmatising".

"But it's a hangover from the previous Government".

National Party leader Simon Bridges said today he did not think the Government would change the policy.

"It's like so many areas, we're seeing the Government is pretty part-time and incompetent. They're failing to deliver on their promises."

Today, Mr Rickard emailed a response saying sanctions "are a legal obligation and any changes to any sanctions would require changes to the Social Security Act".

In New-Zealand, beneficiaries failing drugs tests still hit with sanctions

A Mexican judge has granted two people the right to recreational cocaine use, in the first ruling of its kind, the organisation behind the cases said.

The court said it would allow both claimants to "possess, transport and use cocaine" but not sell it, according to Mexico United Against Crime (MUCD).

MUCD, which seeks to end the country's "war on drugs", called the ruling a "historic step".

The decision must be reviewed by a higher court before it is enforced.

MUCD said the Mexico City court ordered the country's health authority, Cofepris, to authorise the two claimants' use of cocaine.

A Cofepris official told the AFP news agency that it had taken steps to block the court order, which was handed down in May. The official said that such authorisation would be outside of its legal remit.

The ruling will only come into effect if a panel of judges side with the original decision. If they do approve the ruling, it will only apply to the two people who brought the cases, whose identities were withheld.

In a statement on Tuesday, MUCD said the cases represent "another step in the fight to construct alternative drug policies that allow [Mexico] to redirect its security efforts and better address public health."

Mexico judge approves recreational cocaine for two users

Every Tuesday afternoon at 4:45 p.m., Melody Cooper’s siblings and mother meet for bingo at Our Lady of Sorrows, a Catholic school in East Vancouver. Cooper, 44, smiled and spoke warmly of the tradition. But she said her heroin addiction—something she’d struggled with for 17 years—has kept her far too busy to join them.

“They’ve always gone together, but I haven’t,” Cooper recounted from a coffee shop in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. “Stress has always been a struggle. Trying to get my next fix, wondering where I’m going to get it from. Lots of worries. Very little sleep.”

When fentanyl emerged as a problem in British Columbia in 2013, the dangerous synthetic opioid gradually replaced heroin on the streets of the Downtown Eastside, widely known as ground zero for the opioid crisis in Canada. Across the province, overdose deaths soared: In 2013, there were 333 fatal overdoses, 15 percent involving fentanyl. In 2018, there were 1,514, and the number involving fentanyl had risen to 87 percent.

Cooper said she grew increasingly convinced she would end up among them. “I had close friends dying left and right, all around me,” she recalled. “It scared the shit out of me.”

Cooper concedes she still injects drugs every day, but what’s different is where she gets those drugs. For more than a decade, the first person Cooper interacted with most mornings was a dealer. Now it’s a nurse.

In September 2016, Cooper was nicknamed “Patient Zero” in an experimental program initiated by PHS Community Services Society (PHS), a nonprofit that operates the supportive-housing building where she lives. Twice a day, Cooper receives doses of hydromorphone, a prescription painkiller that’s better known by one of its brand names, Dilaudid. Hydromorphone is a powerful opioid that’s similar enough to heroin that it eliminates the feelings of withdrawal that Cooper once feared. More than that, access to a guaranteed supply safe from contamination has brought stability to Cooper’s life, enough to reconnect with family and take a part-time job—the first in her life. “And you know you’re not going to die from it,” she said.

Canada might have found a back door to end the war on drugs

The Jamaican Government is finalising legislation to allow for marijuana producers to export the weed.

Minister of Industry, Commerce, Agriculture and Fisheries Audley Shaw says producers could potentially earn $30 million per gallon for exported marijuana oil.

“I have set a target for the end of September for the regulations to be promulgated,” said Shaw on Wednesday night at the official opening of the Sensi herb house at the Pulse Centre in Kingston.

“I want us to start exporting extracted oil and buds from Jamaica to external markets. Canada wants it, Australia is crying out for it and Germany. All over the world, they want the Jamaican brand,” he said.

The Cannabis Licensing Authority, CLA, has granted 54 licences to date for cultivation, processing, selling, transporting and research. The next tier will see the inclusion of export permits following the enactment of the import-export regulations. The draft regulations have moved through various bodies for review, including Shaw’s ministry, the Ministry of Justice, Attorney General’s Department and the Chief Parliamentary Counsel, and is now at the CLA for final review.

Once enacted, the regulations will give CLA jurisdiction to handle requests for the import and export of ganja buds and resin oil.

“In other words, CLA will have the authority to grant export permits,” Shaw said.

“When a licensee extracts 50 gallons of marijuana oil produced in Jamaica, you know what the value of that 50 gallon container of oil is worth? – 15 million Canadian dollars, yes,” he added.

It puts one gallon at roughly CDN$300,000 or about $30 million.

“It is real figure and might even be conservative. But 50 gallons is a whole heap of product,” said ganja entrepreneur Lloyd Tomlinson, who is a part-owner of Marigold Limited. Sensi is a subsidiary of Marigold. It joins a growing field of medical marijuana retail operators, which includes forerunner Kaya and Epican.

Jamaican ganja export regulations to be finalised September

By Sheila Coronel, Mariel Padilla, David Mora, and the Stabile Center for Investigative Journalism, for The Atlantic

MANILA—All Jefferson Soriano wanted was to go to bed. But the power was out, his tiny room felt like a furnace, and his friend Manuel Borbe had come by. The pair walked outside to chat and get some air, eventually stopping for a late-night coffee along a busy road.

Soriano and Borbe had lived nearly their entire lives in the area, a shantytown in a Manila community called Holy Spirit, and had met as teens on a neighborhood basketball court. They had been friends ever since, growing up together, and now both were new fathers in their 30s struggling to make ends meet—Soriano by working odd jobs in grocery stores and fast-food restaurants, Borbe as a construction worker.

At the time, Rodrigo Duterte’s first year as president of the Philippines was coming to a close, a violent period during which the government prosecuted a war on drugs, in which police swept down, arrested suspected drug sellers, and conducted sting operations against them. Officers were given wide latitude to shoot, and kill, suspected drug dealers—ostensibly in self defense—and Holy Spirit was one of the offensive’s epicenters.

Soriano and Borbe had themselves been caught up in police raids: The former had been reported for his contact with drug dealers, the latter had previously surrendered to police and admitted that he was a user of crystal meth, or 

. In fact, just a month before, policemen had barged into Soriano’s home while he was in the bathroom naked and dragged him outside as he begged for his life. They took him to the police station and, he says, beat him as they questioned him about his association with drug dealers.

So that night—June 15, 2017—Borbe was anxious, worried for his wife and infant son were he to be arrested, or worse, killed. “My time,” he told Soriano as they sipped coffee, “will soon be up.”

While they sat and chatted, a car drove past, its headlights casting a glow on a tall, well-built man standing on the corner on the opposite side of the street. He was soon joined by another man, who arrived on a motorcycle. Each was clad in the same attire—a dark jacket, shorts, and a balaclava.

“Bro, cops,” Soriano told Borbe, believing that the men, despite their face coverings, were police officers. Their stocky build, their posture—hands on their sides, as though they were about to draw their guns—reminded him of the many policemen he’d had run-ins with over the years. Before either friend could do anything, one of the men raised his arm and fired a pistol. Borbe slumped to the ground, taking a fatal shot to the head. Soriano tried to run, but other shooters were waiting at nearby street corners, and fired at him from different directions, hitting him in the neck and leg. As he lay bleeding on the pavement, pretending to be dead, Soriano recalls, he heard the gunmen mount their motorcycles to flee, only for one of the bikes not to start, forcing two of the men to push it downhill to get away.

“The only thought I had in my mind then,” he said in an interview this year in Manila, where he is in hiding, fearing for his life, “was that I had to live for the sake of my son.”

Borbe’s death was posted on the police blotter and investigators were sent to the scene. Journalists arrived shortly after and reported the incident in the news. Photographs were taken, showing Borbe’s corpse splayed on the street corner, the blood from his head wound flowing into the storm drain.

Yet this well-publicized killing is not included in any official count of drug casualties. It has not been fully investigated. It is unclear who the shooters were. As we have found, that is far from unusual: Borbe is only one among a huge number of uncounted victims of Duterte’s drug war.

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