Two decades of peace, love, and marijuana: every August since 1991, Seattle Hempfest has shown what the world will be like when pot is legal.

• Author: Gillespie, Nick

IT WAKES A WHINE to figure out what's so different about the crowd of 100,000-plus people basking in the rare Seattle sunshine at Hempfest 2011, which took place August 19 to 21. It's not the smell of pot everywhere, or the vendors selling bongs and pipes and high-carb munchies, or the familiar leaf imagery slapped on everything from fighters to bandanas to T-shirts, or the uncoordinated hippies playing hacky sack. If you remember the '70s, or ever went to a Grateful Dead concert, or have visited Amsterdam, you've been there, grokked that.

But then two things come into focus at the twin Myrtle Edwards and Centennial parks, bound by the indescribable Puget Sound on one side and grim railroad tracks on the other. The first is that no one is arguing, despite the dense crowds, slow-paced walking, scantily clad young folks, and loud bands. It turns out that a massive gathering where open pot use is tolerated (even celebrated) but booze is banned doesn't have to be filled with fights and scream rests; this isn't Dodger Stadium, or Saturday night in Collegetown, USA. The only attendees having a rough time are those who failed to heed Hempfest Executive Director Vivian McPeak's frequent fatherly warnings from the main stage to be respectful while speakers are talking and to always be hydrating. Sunstroke and necking are the only overindulgences on regular display. Whether it's the early morning or the late afternoon, the vibe is more mellow than anything Olivia Newton-John sang.

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The second unusual sight is one that should give medical-marijuana skeptics pause: scores of people with visible physical handicaps integrated seamlessly, without special comment, into a subculture that has recognized their pain and need for relief as being worthy of individual dignity and choice. There are more wheelchairs, crutches, and missing limbs than at Lourdes or Fatima. You would certainly never see this many cripples at Lollapalooza, an annual musical event whose attendees pride themselves on their tolerance, or at the National Mall on Independence Day. The medicine that has salved these people's conditions has also provided them with a tolerant community in which they are in every sense equals.

No Booze, No Narcs

This is Seattle Hempfest, the largest annual pro-pot event on the planet. Since its inauguration in 1991, tens of thousands of people from all over the country and the world have been coming each August to hang out, listen to speakers (including both of us this year), catch a few bands, and scope out acres of booths hawking everything from black-light posters to cannabis-themed sex aids to the Libertarian Party. By an all-too-rare yet inspired treaty, the organizers of Hempfest keep the place clean of garbage, booze, and obvious drug sales while the Seattle police and (one presumes) narcs of all stripes turn a blind eye to the open use of pot by one and all. If Seattle Hempfest is a vision of what the world will look like when dope is legal, that world will be peaceful and polite.

We came to Hempfest to give several five-minute mini-speeches over the course of the weekend, drawing on themes from our new book, The Declaration of Independents, where we argue that the drug legalization movement needs to push past political tribalism. When the drug war ends, we write, it will be because activists and citizens have routed around Democrats and Republicans, who are far too satisfied with, entrenched in, or just scared of upsetting the status quo. During Hempfest, dozens of speakers take to the stages, talking up everything from industrial hemp to sentencing reform to the need for single-payer health care (as with all such gatherings, it's impossible to keep folks on message).

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