I met Malcolm Gladwell once. Working at one of the Austin coffee shops I frequent, I overheard that distinct voice of his—a reassuring, rigorous tone that his prose also embodies. Eventually I approached him, commenting how I enjoyed his work, but he seemed busy, not really looking to engage, as was his right. Polite, but not altogether genial, if I had to characterize the interaction.
Now, I only write that to clarify I don’t think he’s a bad guy. But he seems quite lost in the weeds when it comes to cannabis. In a recent New Yorker feature titled “Is Marijuana As Safe As We Think It Is?”, Gladwell posits significant concern over the public’s embrace of cannabis. He cites lack of research on marijuana’s myriad effects and compounds, while also worrying about the increasing potency of commercial cannabis, and how its usage could link to rises in schizophrenia and