Smoke a joint and your future is McDonald's

A federal law passed in a burst of drug war fervor denies financial aid to the country's neediest students.

By Janelle Brown

May 20, 2002 | America loves a happy ending: The prisoner on the brink of release decides it's time to straighten out and go to college; the addict gets himself off drugs and becomes a community leader; the teenager grows up and gets responsible. Rebounding from a troubled past is a great American tradition, rewarded even with the highest post in the nation: President George W. Bush is a former alcoholic turned born-again Christian turned world leader.

Chris Berry wanted to be the subject of one of those stories. A factory worker in his 20s with a wife and four kids, he was caught and convicted of possession of marijuana several times before he decided it was time to go to college and get on with his life. But he needed financial aid to afford an education; and this, unfortunately, was where his plans went awry. Thanks to a provision in the Higher Education Act -- a federal law governing the funding of public colleges and universities, as well as student financial aid -- Berry discovered that he was ineligible for federal aid because of his prior drug convictions.

Despite the setback, Berry was able to scrabble together a $2,000 loan from the nonprofit group Students for a Sensible Drug Policy, and he entered Mountain Home Arkansas College last year. But the money ran out after a year, and so did his time in college. "I'm not a student right now," he complains. "I just can't afford to go to school."

The federal law that foiled Berry in his plan to restart his life is called Drug-Free Student Aid Provision, a piece of legislation passed four years ago in the hysteria of the war on drugs. It is a textbook case of knee-jerk lawmaking, a measure that was ill-conceived and poorly implemented. Not only does it fail to affect the population it was supposed to address, but it unfairly affects struggling minority and low-income students. The provision singles out drug users and gives a free pass to those convicted of other crimes. And most importantly, the legislation effectively thwarts young adults who are trying to clean up their lives and get an education, throwing up barriers that stop them from accomplishing their goals.

There was some outcry when the law was passed in 1998, but it wasn't until the 2001-2002 school year that the provision was put into effect and students began losing their aid. Now, as its impact finally becomes evident, students and civil libertarians are taking a public stand against the law and organizing protests to get rid of it. Meanwhile, the financial aid officers at a handful of universities have reimbursed students affected by the law, and their colleagues around the country are looking for ways to follow suit.

Last month, Yale University became the fourth private university to announce that it would begin reimbursing students who lost their financial aid because of the Higher Education Act. A bill that would repeal the provision, proposed by Rep. Barney Frank, D-Mass., has gained some momentum; and Rep. Mark Souder, R-Ind., who wrote and sponsored the law, is now backing a bill to change his own legislation.

"I think the law is mean-spirited and short-sighted," says Barbara Hubler, director of financial aid at San Francisco State University. "We're out here trying to improve students; education is a way to help people become better citizens. It shouldn't be a bureaucracy that throws up obstacles and frustrates their attempts to move ahead with their lives."

The battle against the Drug-Free Student Aid provision is, in effect, one more protest against laws quickly cobbled together in an unrealistic drive to purge the country of drugs. In the quest to ensure that no one, particularly not young Americans, touches drugs, Congress managed to pass sweeping and draconian measures that fail to differentiate between degrees of drug use and abuse, or between victims and villains. Opponents of the financial aid provision, like the opponents of drug conspiracy laws and the harsh sentencing of drug offenders, are questioning the effectiveness and fairness of broad rules that have tended to punish many in hopes of sending a message to the few, and are now derailing an educational system once known for its inclusiveness.

The measures proposed to change or eliminate the Drug-Free Student Aid provision, even if they are passed, will not help the thousands of students already denied financial aid under the measure. It is not likely to influence the many students who, when denied aid, gave up on higher education altogether. In fact, this year's freshmen, unless they are enrolled at a university that has taken a stand against the measure, will be widely affected by the rule.

The provision may seem like a relatively small piece of legislation, reaching only a fraction of all college students, but its implications are far-reaching. The message it sends about our nation's priorities is ominous: As the ACLU's director of drug policy litigation, Graham Boyd, sums it up, "The government is creating two classes of people: One class to whom we want to give an education and succeed in life, and another class of low-income drug users who we want to relegate to a life of working at McDonalds."

Next Page: It targets minority students of lower income, and ignores the ones who committed crimes unrelated to drugs

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