Filed under: Science strangled for clicks
Here we fucking go again. Another round of scare copy about weed makes the rounds, and the chorus lines up to sing the same old song. A survey becomes a study. Association becomes destiny. Patients become a punchline. The Guardian’s latest piece tells readers that people who start using cannabis for pain, anxiety, or depression are more prone to paranoia than folks who light up for fun. It hangs its case on the Cannabis and Me project, an online survey of 3,389 adults with no history of psychosis, then lets select experts slam the gavel as if the verdict were in. That is not reporting. That is a script.
The foundation of their so-called study is paper-thin. Self-reported surveys are the lowest rung of credible research. Voluntary participation. No toxicology. No control groups. No independent replication. Every serious scientist knows it, but the Guardian counts on its readers not digging that far. This is the equivalent of polling a stadium crowd, then calling the results a clinical trial. And that flimsy data is what they used to declare that medical users are somehow broken or doomed to paranoia.
Then they toss out a number meant to scare the hell out of anyone who does not know better: 206 THC units a week. A THC unit is five milligrams. That metric exists for researchers so they can line up dosing across studies, not as some universal truth about consumption. Converting that number into “ten to seventeen joints” is pure smoke and mirrors. It is math cooked up on assumptions about potency and size, not real-world use. They did not explain that because it does not serve the panic headline.
And of course, they gave Robin Murray his usual spotlight. The man is the king of cannabis psychosis soundbites. The NHS itself prescribes cannabis based medicines for epilepsy, multiple sclerosis, and chemotherapy-related nausea. He says cannabis drives psychosis in anyone using it for pain or anxiety, but never once contextualizes that the highest risk is concentrated in heavy, daily, high THC use in vulnerable populations. The Guardian prints his quotes like gospel and never once challenges him to explain why his narrative keeps collapsing under peer-reviewed scrutiny.
What they did not tell you is that psychosis risk is not some random lightning bolt that strikes anyone who picks up a joint. The risk factors are well known and well documented: early use, daily heavy use, high-potency products, and a genetic or family predisposition to psychotic disorders. And even in those groups, the rates are still a minority. For the overwhelming majority of adults, cannabis use never comes close to psychosis. That nuance never made it into print because nuance does not move clicks.
Then there is what is happening in legal markets. In Canada, emergency room visits spiked during the post-legalization novelty boom, then dropped and stabilized. In Colorado and Washington, youth use flattened or declined, even as adult use shifted toward regulated, labeled, and tested products. Legalization did not unleash chaos. It replaced unregulated risk with safer, predictable access. Those are facts, but facts do not scare readers into sharing links.
And the ugliest part? The Guardian threw patients under the bus. People who turn to cannabis are not doing it because they want to be “cool” or because they are thrill seekers. They are people who have been burned by the system, opioid scripts that led to dependence and overdoses, SSRIs that did nothing or made everything worse, doctors who wrote them off as drug seekers or hysterics. Cannabis gave those people a way to function, to sleep, to live without feeling chained to a pharmacy bottle. And instead of reporting that truth, the Guardian framed them as broken people feeding their own paranoia. That is not journalism. That is contempt.
Meanwhile, let us talk about alcohol. Heavy drinking does not just wreck your liver; it can trigger psychosis, hallucinations, and permanent brain damage. Alcoholic hallucinosis. Delirium tremens. Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome. Every ER doctor knows these conditions. Every addiction specialist treats them. Delirium tremens kills up to 35 percent of patients if untreated. Wernicke-Korsakoff, often called wet brain, leaves most survivors permanently impaired. Chronic heavy drinking literally shrinks the brain, and the evidence is overwhelming. But where are the Guardian think pieces warning that a Friday pint could scramble your wiring? Where are the splashy graphics about beer-fueled psychosis? Nowhere. Because alcohol is normalized, marketed, and taxed.
And that is the heart of it, the hypocrisy. Alcohol sponsors every major sporting event. Liquor brands plaster their logos across billboards, streaming ads, stadiums, and social feeds. Nobody calls that a public health crisis. Nobody questions whether kids are watching. Cannabis companies, meanwhile, cannot buy a simple search ad in most markets. They cannot ship across state lines. They cannot access banking. And every time some flimsy study gets released, the same media outlets pile on to keep the panic alive.
Follow the money, and the game becomes obvious. Fear keeps prohibition alive. Prohibition keeps politicians flush with easy votes. Researchers keep their grants rolling by promising to hunt for harms. Pharmaceutical companies protect their margins by fighting legalization while rushing to patent synthetic cannabinoids they can sell at ten times the price of flower. And legacy media like the Guardian rake in the clicks and ad dollars that fear stories always deliver. This is not about science. It is about control.
Here is what a real, honest conversation would look like. Cannabis is not risk-free. High potency concentrates, daily heavy use, and starting young can destabilize some people. Those with family histories of psychosis should be careful, just like people with family histories of alcoholism should be cautious with booze. Adults should have access to clear education about dose, potency, cannabinoid ratios, and tolerance breaks. Regulators should prioritize safety and transparency, not fear and punishment. That kind of conversation actually saves lives. The one the Guardian keeps selling gets people hurt.
Fear-based reporting drives people back into the shadows. It keeps patients lying to their doctors. It pushes consumers toward unregulated products where potency is a guess and contamination is a real risk. It builds stigma that silences the people who could benefit most from honest, informed dialogue. And then, when something does go wrong, those same outlets point back at the plant instead of at the broken system their reporting helped preserve.
Cannabis is not harmless. But it is safer than alcohol. Safer than tobacco. Safer than a shelf full of over-the-counter pills that can kill you if you get the dose wrong. It deserves coverage that is factual, balanced, and fearless. What it gets from outfits like the Guardian is lazy, fear-soaked copy that keeps prohibition breathing and keeps the public ignorant.
Pot Culture Magazine does not play that game. We deal in facts. We deal in science. We deal in the truth that the culture already knows: cannabis is not the villain. The villain is bad journalism, bad policy, and the people who profit from keeping you scared.
Cannabis is not the problem. The panic industry is.
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