What would happen if everyone, from world leaders to stay-at-home moms, tried weed? Cannabis might function less as escapism and more as a tool for empathy, introspection, and slowing down an increasingly hyperproductive world. The real danger may not be getting high, but remaining trapped inside a version of “normality” built on stress, ego, and endless acceleration.
In the highly recommended documentary Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie, amidst the haze of a life devoted to civil disobedience and the noble task of undermining sobriety, Cheech and Chong utter a line that lingers in the air for several beats: “Cannabis should be mandatory.” Laughter ripples through the theater, and at first, that line feels like a classic joke, one of those stoner hyperboles meant to elicit a chuckle. And that’s it… right?
The echo of that statement reverberates far beyond the laugh. And one only needs to look at the current state of the world, in weeks marked by bombings, geopolitical tensions, migration conflicts, and events that spit in the face of what was once “civilization” and is now a glimpse of madness. That proposal, uttered from the mouth of the classic stoner stereotype, stops looking like a delusion and starts to sound like a coherent public policy. We always say it, even without fear of being canceled: exaggeration rules, but here, we’re probably right. “Cannabis should be mandatory.” Let’s run with that idea.
The “normie” world, that ecosystem of cynical burnouts, stress ulcers, and neurotic productivity, has historically vilified cannabis through a mix of fear and an unfounded moral superiority. They sold us the stigma of the lazy, good-for-nothing stoner, as a cautionary tale. “Look at that, don’t become that. Just in case, cannabis is bad, very bad.” And what the established world hasn’t quite grasped is that weed isn’t an “escape from reality,” but rather a high-definition filter for seeing it as it truly is. If the plant were mandatory, the first major collapse would be the ego. And with it, half of the geopolitical problems that have us on the brink of collapse today would begin to have different facets, different solutions, different trajectories.
This isn’t a new or radical idea. History reminds us that there was a time when the plant wasn’t taboo, but an agricultural obligation. Colonial Virginia ordered its farmers to grow hemp. George Washington grew it at Mount Vernon for decades, and in a letter to his farm manager in January 1794 he asked after the East India hemp seed he had given the gardener and told him to “make the most of it at the proper Season for Sowing.” Washington was after rope and canvas, not a high, and no serious historian says otherwise. That is exactly the point. Cannabis was a crop before it was a crime. Medicine, fiber, fuel. The taboo is the recent part, and we built it ourselves.
Imagine for a second a UN Security Council session after sharing a few joints. Cannabis has the power to dismantle hierarchies. And, incidentally, it forces us to recognize traces of humanity in others. Then, with egos on hold, the geopolitical chessboard could reveal itself for what it is: a farce orchestrated by a handful of neurotic burnouts. Think for a moment about those who pull the strings of the world, those who conspire with the geography of fear: that paradigm of “normies” hyperstimulated by social media and confrontation. If they replaced Diet Coke with a joint, perhaps paranoia wouldn’t be such a central issue. And ego wouldn’t be the driving force of history. Again, yes, I’m exaggerating, but there’s something there. Think about it for a few seconds and we’ll continue. Ready? Let’s go on.
Or think about the guys in Silicon Valley, those algorithm architects who are now “recommending things” to the Pentagon. What would happen if they slowed down with some good indicas? We’re talking about those (new?) freaks who live hyper-stimulated by microdoses and caffeine, fueling a soulless productivity (now they call it: “Religion of Efficiency,” did you know that?) and shaping a new stereotype of “tech bros.” These are the ones who make garage pioneers look like diplomatic men of peace (I have no idea if they are or not, it doesn’t matter; we’re talking about facades, masks, and public image). Cannabis could make them lower their guard, relax those shoulders burdened with who-knows-what, and help them understand that progress isn’t an arms race, but a tool for improving existence.
So, that “mandatory” weed the masters spoke of is, in truth, an invitation to disarm our armor, lower our guard, and allow ourselves to think, to feel, to live. Cannabis could offer a bridge to that chemical empathy so sorely lacking in the office world and high-profile politics. It could be so nice to build a bridge…
Seriously though: the “normie” world does suffer from a starvation of awe. Perhaps, if we were all forced to go through the experience of the plant at least once, we would discover that the real danger isn’t being “high,” but living our entire lives with our feet planted firmly in the cement of a normality that is eating away at our souls. And that, in turn, said soul (and its entire future) depends on the mood of a few overexcited bureaucrats. So, as Cheech and Chong suggest, the world probably doesn’t need more control laws, but a law that makes us let go every once in a while.
