The deafening silence on veil bans

France and Belgium are racing to be the first to ban the burqa. Why wasn't that worth mentioning in

I thought that last night's debate, which supposedly concentrated on foreign affairs, was pathetically limited. As I predicted, our place in the world was discussed almost entirely through the prisms of our relationships with the US and with the European Union.

Given that, a little more examination of those relationships would have been welcome. Take the EU. Whatever you think about our membership, it is an institution that does matter -- not least because its laws supersede ours.

So why was there no mention of the unbelievable race that France and Belgium are engaged in -- the prize for winning which is to be the first country in Europe to ban the full face veil?

Belgium's parliament was due to vote on the legislation yesterday, until the government coalition collapsed after one party withdrew. This, despite the fact that according to the BBC's estimate, only 30 women in the country regularly wear the burqa or niqab. (The link above also provides a
handy guide to different kinds of face veils, incidentally.)

The French president, Nicolas Sarkozy, has ordered his government to put a bill with similar effect to parliament next month. The dignity of all women, apparently, is threatened by the under 2000 who are recorded as wearing the full veil in France.

I am no fan of either the niqab or the burqa. (I expressed my approval in October when the Dean of Al Azhar University called full face veiling "a custom that had nothing to do with the Islamic faith".) Mehdi Hasan has also discussed the subject on this site before.

But were these extraordinary moves on the part of two of our closest European neighbours not worth a mention in last night's debate? After all, what does it say about the continent's great traditions of tolerance and liberty that two countries wish to legislate specifically to tell a tiny number of women how they should dress?

It's understandable that our attention is concentrated inwards during an election. But I still find the deafening silence on this astonishing. Or are we happy for some minorities to be less equal than others?

Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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The government has admitted it can curb drugs without criminalising users

Under the Psychoactive Substances Act it will not be a criminal offence for someone to possess for their own consumption recreational drugs too dangerous to be legally sold to the public.

From Thursday, it may be illegal for churches to use incense. They should be safe from prosecution though, because, as the policing minister was forced to clarify, the mind-altering effects of holy smells aren’t the intended target of the Psychoactive Substances Act, which comes into force this week.

Incense-wafters aren’t the only ones wondering whether they will be criminalised by the Act. Its loose definition of psychoactive substances has been ridiculed for apparently banning, among other things, flowers, perfume and vaping.

Anyone writing about drugs can save time by creating a shortcut to insert the words “the government has ignored its advisors” and this Act was no exception. The advisory council repeatedly warned the government that its definition would both ban things that it didn’t mean to prohibit and could, at the same time, be unenforcable. You can guess how much difference these interventions made.

But, bad though the definition is – not a small problem when the entire law rests on it – the Act is actually much better than is usually admitted.

Under the law, it will not be a criminal offence for someone to possess, for their own consumption, recreational drugs that are considered too dangerous to be legally sold to the public.

That sounds like a mess, and it is. But it’s a mess that many reformers have long advocated for other drugs. Portugal decriminalised drug possession in 2001 while keeping supply illegal, and its approach is well-regarded by reformers, including the Liberal Democrats, who pledged to adopt this model in their last manifesto.

This fudge is the best option out of what was politically possible for dealing with what, until this week, were called legal highs.

Before the Act, high-street shops were free to display new drugs in their windows. With 335 head shops in the UK, the drugs were visible in everyday places – giving the impression that they couldn’t be that dangerous. As far as the data can be trusted, it’s likely that dozens of people are now dying each year after taking the drugs.

Since legal highs were being openly sold and people were thought to be dying from them, it was obvious that the government would have to act. Until it did, every death would be blamed on its inaction, even if the death rate for users of some newly banned drugs may be lower than it is for those who take part in still-legal activities like football. The only question was what the government would do.

The most exciting option would have been for it to incentivise manufacturers to come up with mind-altering drugs that are safe to take. New Zealand is allowing drug makers to run trials of psychoactive drugs, which could eventually – if proved safe enough – be sold legally. One day, this might change the world of drug-taking, but this kind of excitement was never going to appeal to Theresa May’s Home Office.

What was far more plausible was that the government would decide to treat new drugs like old ones. Just as anyone caught with cocaine or ecstasy faces a criminal record, so users of new drugs could have been hit with the same. This was how legal highs have been treated up until now when one was considered serious enough to require a ban.

But instead, the government has recognised that its aim – getting new drugs out of high-street shop windows so they don’t seem so normal – didn’t depend on criminalising users. A similar law in Ireland achieved precisely this. To its credit, the government realised it would be disproportionate to make it a criminal offence to possess the now-illegal highs.

The reality of the law will look chaotic. Users will still be able to buy new drugs online – which could open them to prosecution for import – and the law will do nothing to make drugs any safer. Some users might now be exposed to dealers who also want to sell them more dangerous other drugs. There will be few prosecutions and some head shop owners might try to pick holes in the law: the government seems to have recognised that it needed a better definition to have any chance of making the law stick.

But, most importantly for those of us who think the UK’s drug laws should be better at reducing the damage drugs cause, the government, for the first time, has decided that a class of recreational drugs are too dangerous to be sold but that it shouldn’t be a crime to possess them. The pressure on the government to act on legal highs has been relieved, without ordinary users being criminalised. For all the problems with the new law, it’s a step in the right direction.

Leo Barasi is a former Head of Communications at the UK Drug Policy Commission. He writes in a personal capacity