If nothing less than the county’s culture and agricultural order were considered at stake, it is no wonder that absolute, even prohibitionist, solutions emerged in Siskiyou, with the Sheriff’s Office having a central role in defending local culture.Siskiyou’s sparsely populated landscape has been home to illegalized cannabis cultivators at least since the late 1960s, largely in remote, forested, and public lands in the western part of the county. Medical cannabis’s decriminalization in 1996 inaugurated a modest expansion of cannabis gardens throughout the county . However, for the next 19 years, Siskiyou did not establish regulations for medical cannabis, in line with locally dominant ideologies of personal freedoms and property rights. Instead, the county relied on defac to management of cultivation by law enforcement and the court system’s strict interpretation of state law . In 2015, informed by public workshops held by the Siskiyou County Planning Division, supervisors passed the county’s first medical cannabis ordinance, which seemingly balanced concerns of medical cultivators and other county residents. Regulation would be overseen by the Planning Division, which placed conditions on cultivation , limited plant numbers to parcel size and would establish an administrative abatement and hearing process for complaints. The Planning Division, however, had been without code enforcement officers since 2008 budget cuts. Though the county authorized the hiring of one civil code officer in 2015, the Sheriff’s Office felt that the Planning Division “needed outside help” and moved to assist. Soon, the county’s limited abatement capacities were overwhelmed by vigorous enforcement and a wave of complainants. County supervisors, responding to the sheriff’s 2015 reports on the “proliferation” of cannabis gardens on private property, moved to heighten penalties for code violations, place numerous new restrictions on indoor growing and ban all outdoor growing . These strict county measures, which discarded and replaced publicly developed regulations, stoked reaction. When the Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors met in December 2015 to vote on these measures,rolling benches canada advocates and cultivators presented 1,500 signatures to forestall its passage, a super majority of attending residents indicated opposition, and supervisors had to curtail 3 hours of public comment to vote.
Despite this showing, supervisors passed the restrictive measures, prompting cannabis advocates to collect 4,000 signatures in 17 days to place the approved ordinances on the June 2016 ballot. Meanwhile, the Sheriff’s Office enforced the new stricter regulations .The Sheriff’s Office assumption of code enforcement blurred the line between noncompliance with civil codes and criminal acts. Stricter ordinances, still in effect in Siskiyou, created a broad, nearly universal category of “noncompliance.” No one we interviewed, including officials at the Planning Division and Sheriff’s Office, knew of a single cultivator officially in compliance. One interviewee estimated that growing 12 indoor plants would cost $40,000 in physical infrastructure, in addition to numerous licensing and inspections requirements, effectively prohibiting self-provisioning. The Sheriff’s Office notified the public that it would initiate criminal charges against “non-compliant” cultivators, specifically those suspected of cultivation for sale , child endangerment or suspected drug trafficking . Since the county regulations produced a situation where no one could comply, law enforcement could effectively criminally pursue any cultivator.Investigations were “complaint driven,” meaning not only that warrants could be issued in response to disgruntled neighbors upset about a barking dog on a cultivation site, as one person reported, but that police officers could serve as a kind of permanent, general complainant and take “proactive action” when they spotted code violations . Administrative warrants allowed deputies to enter properties with a lower evidentiary bar than they would have needed for criminal warrants, leading one patients rights group — Siskiyou Alternative Medicine — to file a lawsuit alleging county violations of Fourth Amendment protections against unreasonable search and seizure . In effect, cannabis’s criminal valences in the county endured through California’s shift of cannabis from criminal to civil provenance. Formerly illegal activities continued to be formally or informally treated as criminal matters, as researchers have noted with other stigmatized activities and groups, for example, after the decriminalization of sex workers in Mexico . Also, enforcement of civil matters can lead to substantive criminalization when those matters are stigmatized, as in the regulation of homelessness . While it is not unique for police officers to enforce civil codes, what is unique in Siskiyou County is the assumption of the entire civil process under the sheriff’s authority. To understand how this civil process became criminally inflected, in a county that voted for statewide cannabis legalization in 2016, one must first understand significant contextual shifts in who was growing cannabis where — and the challenge this posed to dominant ideas of land use, agriculture and culture.
Since 2014, cannabis gardens have emerged on many of the county’s undeveloped rural subdivisions in unincorporated areas of Siskiyou. Subdivided into over 1,000 lots each in the 1960s, these subdivisions contain many parcels that are just a few acres in size and relatively inexpensive. Previously populated mostly by white retirees, squatters and a few methamphetamine users and makers, the parcels were often bought sight-unseen as investments or potential retirement properties, with most remaining unsold and undeveloped until the mid-2010s. In 2014, these subdivisions became destinations for Hmong Americans from several places, including Minneapolis, Milwaukee and Fresno; many of them cultivated cannabis. The inexpensive, sparsely populated, rural subdivisions enabled Hmong-Americans to live in close proximity to ethnic and kin networks, which multiple interviewees expressed was especially important for elders who had migrated to the United States as refugees after the Vietnam War. The county sheriff estimated that since the mid-2010s around 6,000 Hmong-Americans had moved to Siskiyou, purchasing approximately 1,500 parcels . In an 86.5% white county with just 745 non-cannabis farms and fewer than 44,000 people , this constituted a major demographic shift. Hmong-American residents found themselves susceptible to scrutiny by white neighbors and officials.The subdivisions are often sparsely vegetated, dry and hilly, making them not only unproductive as agricultural lands but also highly visible from public roads, horseback, neighboring plots, helicopter and Google Earth. Green screen fencing, wooden stakes, portable toilets, generators, campers, plywood houses, or water tanks and trucks often signal cannabis cultivation but would be necessary for many land uses, especially since many lots are sold without infrastructure like water, sewer or electrical access. If detection of code violations depends upon visibility, Hmong Americans on subdivisions have been made especially visible and vulnerable to detection. One lawyer, for instance, reported that 90% of the defendants present at administrative county hearings for code violations in fall 2015, when the first complaint-driven ordinance was put in place, were Hmong-American. One Hmong-American resident reported being stopped by police six times in 3 months and subjected to unfriendly white neighbors patrolling on horseback for cannabis — one of whom made a complaint for a crowing rooster, a questionable nuisance in this “right to farm” county. Numerous Hmong-Americans and sympathetic whites echoed these experiences. County residents confirmed their antagonism toward Hmong-Americans by characterizing them in interviews and public records as dishonest, thieves, polluters, negligent parents and unable to assimilate, and making other racializing and racist characterizations. While written regulations and enforcement profess race neutrality, in a nuisance enforcement regime based on visibility, Hmong Americans were more visible than others, leading many to argue that they were being racially profiled. Rhetoric emerging from the county government amplified racial tensions and visibilities.
Numerous Sheriff’s Office press releases located the “problem” in subdivisions and attributed it to “an influx of people temporarily moving to Siskiyou” who were “lawbreakers” from “crime families” with “big money” and who threatened “our way of life, quality of life, and the health and safety of our children and grandchildren” . Just 2 days before the June 2016 ballot on the strict cannabis ordinances, state investigators responded to county reports that newly registered Hmong-American voters might be fraudulent or coerced by criminal actors and visited Hmong-American residences to investigate, accompanied by sheriff’s deputies . The voter fraud charges were later countered by a lawsuit alleging racially motivated voter intimidation; the suit was eventually dismissed for failing to meet the notoriously difficult criteria of racist intent. The raids may have discouraged some Hmong-Americans from voting, charges of fraud may have boosted anticannabis sentiment, and, one government official explained, “creative balloting” measures enabled some municipal voters in conservative localities to vote while others in more liberal places could not. The voter fraud charges, raids and legal contestation drew widespread media attention that further linked Hmong-Americans and cannabis. Amidst these now-overt racial tensions, the restrictive June 2016 ballot measure passed, allowing the Sheriff’s Office to gain full enforcement power over the “#1 public enemy to Siskiyou citizens … criminal marijuana cultivation” . Shortly after the June 2016 ballot measure affirmed stricter regulations, the Sheriff’s Office formed the Siskiyou Interagency Marijuana Investigation Team with the district attorney to “attack illegal marijuana grows” “mostly” around rural subdivisions . Within a month, SIMIT had issued 25 abatement notices and filed 20 criminal charges,flood table in addition to confiscating numerous plants. Meanwhile, the Planning Division’s role had diminished — code enforcement officers were relegated to addressing violations not directly related to cannabis . The November 2016 state legalization of recreational cannabis prompted Siskiyou to examine a possible licensure and taxation system for local growers .
Amidst sustained, vocal opposition, the proposal stalled for several reasons that further aggravated cultural and racial tensions: A key proponent of licensure was discovered to be running an unauthorized grow, three Hmong Americans died of carbon monoxide poisoning due to heaters in substandard housing, and a cannabis cultivation enterprise run by two Hmong-Americans attempted to bribe the sheriff. These developments were interpreted not as outcomes of restrictive regulations and criminalizing strategies, but as proof that, in the words of one supervisor, regulation was impossible until the county could “get a handle on the illegal side of things.” The sheriff encouraged this interpretation, arguing in an interview that statewide legalization was “just a shield that protects illegal marijuana” and efforts to regulate it would always be subverted by criminals. This antiregulatory logic prevailed in August 2017 when the county placed a moratorium on cannabis commerce. Still, the sheriff argued for stronger powers, citing an “overwhelming number of cannabis cultivation sites,” which, according to the Sheriff’s Office, continued to “wreak … havoc [with] potentially catastrophic impacts” across the region . Just 1 month later, at the sheriff’s urging, the Siskiyou Board of Supervisors declared a “state of emergency” aimed at garnering new resources and alliances to address the cannabis cultivation problem. Soon, the Sheriff’s Office enlisted the National Guard, Cal Fire and the California Highway Patrol in enforcement efforts, and, by 2018, numerous other agencies joined, including the Siskiyou County Animal Control Department, California Department of Toxic Substances Control, State Water Resources Control Board, California Department of Fish and Wildlife and a CDFA inspection station. These alliances multiplied the civil and criminal charges cultivators might face . Ironically, California’s cannabis legalization has enabled a kind of multi-agency neoprohibitionism at the county level, one that reinforces older criminal responses with new civil-administrative strategies and authorities. The need to “get a handle” might be regarded as a temporary emergency measure, but it may also propagate new criminalizing methods and institutional configurations. The more enforcement occurs, the bigger the problem appears, requiring more resources and leading to a logic of escalation symmetrical to the much-critiqued War on Drugs . And the more cannabis cultivators are viewed as criminal, the less likely they are to be addressed as citizens, residents and farmers.Given concerns about biased county policy and enforcement, the Sheriff’s Office held the first Hmong American and Siskiyou County Leader Town Hall in May 2018 to “foster a closer, collaborative relationship with members of the Hmong-American community,” exchange information about Hmong and Siskiyou culture and educate attendees on county policies . According to public records, racial tensions surfaced at this meeting when some white participants expressed that “our county” had been “invaded” and that Hmong-Americans were not fitting into local cultural norms . Meeting leaders — both government officials and Hmong-Americans — however, identified cultural misunderstanding, rather than criminalization and racialized claims by whites on what constitutes local culture, as the core problem to be addressed. “Misunderstanding” was an inadequate framing, given that Hmong-Americans had attempted to make themselves understood by attending public meetings, forming advocacy groups, signing petitions, demanding interpreters and administrative hearings, and registering to vote since their arrival in Siskiyou.