Under Trump, the ‘War on Drugs’ Is a Military Campaign — and It Still Doesn’t Make Sense

This expansion has quickly moved from the rhetorical — as when the Trump administration declared fentanyl a weapon of mass destruction — to the operational, with the U.S. applying lethal force against alleged drug couriers outside normal legal processes and perhaps reaching its crescendo with recently captured Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro appearing in January in an American courtroom on, among other things, drug trafficking charges.

The Trump administration has made no legal arguments in support of these actions, further undermining the rule of law. Asked why he would not simply ask Congress for a declaration of war against supposed drug traffickers, the president responded characteristically, offering, “I don’t think we’re going to necessarily ask for a declaration of war. I think we’re just going to kill people that are bringing drugs into our country.”

Some may see these developments as a sign that America is at last getting serious about this “war.” They are, instead, a harbinger that the costs associated with policies of drug prohibition — already far too high — are about to escalate further. Even if the drug trafficking charges arrayed against Maduro are merely a pretext for pursuing broader foreign policy goals, they demonstrate how the federal prohibition of drugs can be used for wildly expansive ends. It’s an appropriate time to ask if these policies make any sense.

The drug war implicates important moral and constitutional questions, which only multiply in the realm of military action. While these are too important to ignore, supporters of current U.S. drug policy and of intensifying its enforcement must first answer a simpler yet urgent question: Does drug prohibition still make sense on cost-benefit grounds?

The central claim offered in defense of drug prohibition is that it reduces harmful drug consumption by increasing the personal cost, societal taboo or potential criminal penalties associated with drug use. Available evidence suggests prohibition likely prevents some harmful consumption, particularly at the margins. But the magnitude of this benefit is modest, difficult to quantify, and rarely specified with any precision. This matters, as such benefits are the only reason for us to incur the costs of drug prohibition, which are large, concrete and compounding.

Drug prohibition imposes tens of billions of dollars in annual fiscal costs. Most visible among these are expenditures for the criminal justice operations the policy necessitates, including law enforcement and prosecution, incarceration and supervision of those on probation or parole. Less obvious costs are those that result from burdens placed on users, such as lost productivity from imprisonment and the diminished employment prospects faced by those with a criminal record.

Another commonly cited monetary cost is the forgone tax revenue that results from driving prohibited substances into black markets. While many of us don’t find the ability to tax a compelling argument, there is certainly a case to be made in the context of alcohol, cigarette and drug consumption that taxes on users can help cover the costs — of health care and drug rehabilitation programs — that consumption places on society.

Figures on how much revenue could be gained from a nationwide legalization of, for example, marijuana vary widely, but the Tax Foundation estimated in December 2023 that states could expect to generate $8.5 billion annually, allowing the licit market to undercut the black market. That isn’t pocket change.

If fiscal expenditures were the only costs associated with the war on drugs, they might be incentive enough to reconsider current policy. Yet they are but the tip of the iceberg when one considers the numerous and severe nonmonetary harms imposed by prohibition.

Criminalizing any activity inflicts substantial human and social costs on those who are prosecuted and convicted, including the loss of their freedom, family disruption, and damaged life and occupational prospects that are propagated through generations. Proponents of current policy often dismiss costs that fall on drug users and their families, but they certainly must be considered and weighed against the benefits of current policy.

Furthermore, some costs fall on all Americans, whether or not they are drug users. Freedom is undermined generally by the expanded surveillance, civil forfeiture, police militarization, corruption and strained community trust that flow from enforcement of prohibition. These effects erode respect for the law, which carries its own cost.

And, of course, innocent Americans have suffered from the violence, crime and deadlier drugs that inevitably result from policies of prohibition. Our regrettable historical experience with alcohol prohibition is an apt illustration, and one that nearly all Americans accept. It’s ironic that the scourge of fentanyl is a prime justification being used to intensify the drug war, when it’s an example of what prohibition and criminalization ultimately spawn: more potent and dangerous substances that are easier to smuggle, store and distribute, while they offer higher profit margins to the illicit trade.

Many mistake the hopelessness of the drug war with failed enforcement, rather than the persistent demand for drugs. But nearly all of its harms arise — and increase — with successful enforcement of the policy path we have chosen.

The recent expansion of the drug war into military action underscores a deeper problem: a longstanding policy with costs that are concrete, immense and well documented, while its benefits remain vague and modest. Cost-benefit analysis of complex social problems never generates perfect answers, but with a full and honest consideration of both sides of the ledger, it does produce clarity.

Such clarity shows that drug prohibition increasingly fails the test. A society committed to freedom and effective policy can no longer ignore this conclusion, particularly when threatening to pursue that failed policy with all the more gusto.