Pubdate: 28 Aug 1999 Source: Vancouver Sun (CN BC) Copyright: The Vancouver Sun 1999 Page: E5 Contact: 200 Granville Street, Ste.#1, Vancouver BC V6C 3N3 Fax: (604) 605-2323 Website: http://www.vancouversun.com/ Author: Guy Saddy, Special to the Sun Newspaper Marketers: The New Weed Killers Down With Hempster Madness Play to rebellious drug culture, then declare your product to be "hope, not dope." Welcome to the confusing world of hemp hype. It was only about two days after snowboarder Ross Rebagliati was stripped of his Olympic gold medal that the bumper sticker appeared: "Smoke a fattie for Rebagliati." Most Vancouverites chuckled empathetically or nostalgically, depending on their current toxicologies. On at least a couple of interpretive levels, "snowboarder" and "dope" are not exactly incompatible nouns, so it was no surprise that Ross had a measurable level of tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC, the primary psychoactive component of marijuana, in his golden-boy blood. What was astonishing, however, was how quickly he went from Japan to Jay Leno and, from there to being the focus of Roots' fall 1998 ad campaign. In a nanosecond, he became one of the most marketable commodities in North America. Rebagliati's impressive athletic accomplishments in Nagano couldn't tell the entire tale of his subsequent success, since there were many other gilded athletes who, after arriving home, fell right back into obscurity. No, the reason Ross Rebagliati didn't fade from collective memory is simply this: he achieved nicely balanced notoriety. And he has pot, the newest marketing ploy, to thank for that. As do a lot of other people or, to be more precise, companies. Witness the Hemp line of products from The Body Shop, or the hemp ales from breweries like Bowen Island and Shaftebury. There are hemp vests and hemp shirts, sunscreens, granola bars and writing paper. Then there is celebrity hempster Woody Harrelson who, in the tradition of Johnny Appleseed and John the Baptist, spreads both fertilizer and the gospel, or a combination thereof, for the cause. Harrelson is just one of a growing number of die-hard hemp boosters who feel it is their divine right to bore the rest of us to tears by itemizing the many ways hemp can save the planet, expand one's spiritual self, clean the toilet - really, take your pick. It all spells "nirvana." But it is true that today the graceful lines of the typical marijuana leaf no longer inspire much fear or loathing; nor do they inspire dire soapbox dissertations about how "reefer" might incite the sexual proclivities of unsuspecting teens. Today, flying the cannabis leaf flag on your product is almost like having the Seal of Approval. Weed has long been used to shill. In previous decades, the herb has been the sacrament behind anything from underground comic books, to reggae tunes, to Cheech and Chong. While that duo's dope-driven comedy on the album "Big Bamboo" was entirely forgettable, the massive (and functional) rolling paper that was included was anything but. Oh, the fun that inspired! Such excellent, excellent times. If only we could remember them. But these products were aimed toward a niche market--a red-eyed, energy-depleted, munchie-afflicted group of navel contemplators, to be sure, but a niche, nonetheless. And it's one that many of the newest hemp entrepreneurs would like to ignore. They're out to capture a far more mainstream audience. Last October, the Body Shop launched their new Hemp skin care line with great and unexpected fanfare. The five hemp-based products (a lip balm, hand cream, body oil, soap, and something called "Elbow Grease") inspired a sober second look from Health Canada bureaucrats, who apparently thought that if one were to expose oneself to a multiplicity of hemp products, the cumulative effects of THC may cause the kind of impaired judgment that could lead to the commission of foolhardy acts like, say, working for Health Canada. Body Shop founder Anita Roddick expressed outrage - genuine, surely, considering how most companies feel about free publicity. The Body Shop was promoting hemp, not marijuana, they countered. And it even says so on their packaging: "Hemp is hope, not dope" goes the line. Well, it is dope and it isn't dope. What hemp is, really, is marijuana with the buzz bred out of it. It is not, as Body Shop literature claims, a "distant cousin" of pot, but rather its twin brother - or more accurately, its well-behaved, castrato twin. Not too well-behaved, perhaps. Last month, an unreleased Health Canada "draft risk assessment" study, obtained by the Globe and Mail, claimed that even minute amounts ot THC could cause health risks, primarily to infants, the unborn and teenagers. The study was not, however, based on original research and its conclusions have yet to be peer reviewed. In a press release, The Body Shop, ever vigilant, refuted the study's findings. Few would, however, dispute Roddick's claim that hemp is an environmentally sound product; there are a myriad of excellent reasons why we should be cultivating it. Yes, hemp is capable of leaving the soil in better condition, and it doesn't require as much pesticide as some other crops. But let's get to the real point. No one gets this passionate about wheat. That's because there's more going on here than the championing of a viable cash crop. It's just a little disingenuous of Roddick to sanctimoniously separate her products from the evil weed when phrases like "Hard Core Hand Care" and "Well-Oiled" moisturizing oil appear on her packaging, while pot leaf-adorned posters shouting "Get Hooked on Hemp" are slapped up all around the country. Hemp beer tastes like an awful lot like beer made from barley, but is rendered tastier through the connotation. And Roots certainly profited from an association with Ross Rebagliati. He's a rebel, sure, but in a gentle, non-threatening and almost distinctly Canadian way: the perfect Roots symbol. For the above companies, and many more, it is marijuana's outlaw semiotics that they are buying into. And selling back to us. Yet why pot? And why now? Marijuana is illegal, sure, but it's a relatively innocuous symbol of danger. In this, an age when junkies start snorting in high school, marijuana - as a symbol and a drug - seems almost quaint. Like James Dean, or the Rolling Stones. But there's always a market for rebellion, no matter how tame. Just ask aging boomers, their Maserati dreams and black leather fantasies long ago displaced by Nissan Pathfinders and control-top pantyhose. These unfortunates need to revisit a time where they can claim some minuscule amount of badass cachet, at least in their own minds. And they can do this, they believe, through product association. Marijuana, once a counter-cultural symbol of disaffection and separation, has been drained of its potency, much like industrial hemp. And, current paternity problems notwithstanding, a lot like Mick Jagger, too. - --- MAP posted-by: Richard Lake