Psycho/Tropics: An Ethnographic Examination of Drug Use in Micronesia




Welcome to Paradise

We had been traveling for about twenty-six hours by the time we reached Chuuk, our first stop in the Federated States of Micronesia. As the plane began its descent, I looked out my window and saw nothing but ocean. It went on like this until about a minute or so before we landed on the airport’s only runway, a narrow strip of weathered pavement on a small, man-made peninsula. This was not our final destination, but since I was seated on the left side of the plane, I had to get out so that they could clean that side of the aircraft. It felt good to stretch my legs. As soon as I stepped outside, I could feel the weight of the humidity. Looking down, I saw that the walkway beneath my feet was speckled with red stains, beside a sign that said “No Spitting” in both English and Chuukese. Betel nuts, I remembered reading, are very popular here.

The airport itself was made of cinder blocks and corrugated metal, and the layover area consisted of one main room that smelled very much like the other two other rooms, both of which happened to contain toilets. On the wall, there was a poster of indigenous flowers. Everything that was stationary had a thin layer of mold. I asked a man how much further it was to Pohnpei. He shrugged. A woman who overheard me said that it was about another three hours. We had already arrived in this tiny country of less than 150,000 people, but we were still about five hundred miles from the next closest big island. 

The plane that took us there also delivered and picked up U.S. mail from each of the post offices along the way. It made this same run three times a week, bringing letters, packages and people to these small, remote islands in the Central Pacific. When we finally arrived at our destination and retrieved our luggage, it was easy to spot, in part because over seventy-five percent of our fellow passengers had brought back coolers full of food in lieu of suitcases.

Micronesia is a remote archipelago in the central Pacific Ocean, a place where the concepts of east and west converge and traditional customs are in constant conflict with modernity. Perhaps nothing exemplifies this so clearly as driving a car in this particular part of the world. Of the six hundred plus islands that make up the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM), only the four largest of them (Yap, Chuuk, Pohnpei and Kosrae) have roads, and there are precisely zero stoplights to be found anywhere in the entire country. Furthermore, since most of these crude, unnamed streets were built by Americans after the second world war, people follow the U.S. custom of driving on the right side. However, because it is generally cheaper to import vehicles from Japan than from the United States or elsewhere, most of the steering wheels are also on the right. This leads to vast blind spots from the vantage point of the motorist, but it also offers another perspective as well. When driving on these washed out dirt roads, looking out at villages that appear to be remnants of another time, it is not uncommon to see a mother with a naked baby in one hand and a machete in the other, or vegetation that has all but consumed an abandoned car. Life on these islands is a contradiction between the past and present, a place where humanity and nature quietly coexist.

For the academic year of 2011 through 2012, I worked as an English instructor at the College of Micronesia National Campus on the capital island of Pohnpei. During my relatively brief tenure at this institution, I learned at least as much as my students, but where they were being educated in basic rhetoric and research skills, I was learning about the transformative impact of cultural imperialism upon the traditions of a society much older than my own. I say this, of course, as someone who was being paid to improve the English skills of the natives through grants from the U.S. Department of Education. That said, I made sure to maintain an awareness of my position and privilege while seeking to better understand this culture in which I was profoundly grateful to be a guest.

Although some Micronesian traditions remain in tact in spite of colonial influence, many are going the way of the dodo, collateral casualties of the existential conflict between tribalism and globalism that takes place every day here. Over the thousands of years that these islands have been inhabited, Micronesian culture has evolved to meet the unique demands of living on very small amounts of land with little or no connection to the outside world. As such, many of their customs were designed to maintain a specific way of life that has managed to sustain their civilization for a very long time. This has only recently begun to deteriorate as a direct result of foreign influence, which in this context functions very much like an invasive species being introduced to an isolated ecosystem.


In this paper, I will be discussing the changing face of drug use in Micronesia, specifically examining how this culture has responded to the introduction of new psychoactive substances that have in some cases displaced those linked to more traditional practices. I will supplement what little existing scholarship there is on the subject with my own ethnographic and auto-ethnographic research in the hope that I might be able to offer some novel insights into the matter at hand. Although I recognize the limitations of this approach, I also see the value of storytelling as it pertains to scholarship. This is the story of mind-altering substances in Micronesia, both domestic and imported, and the impacts that these drugs have had on the culture at large. The work that follows is primarily a case study in neocolonial anthropology. With that in mind, much like the Galapagos Islands were to Charles Darwin in the nineteenth century, perhaps the remote islands of Micronesia may offer a similar laboratory through which to better understand the evolution of drug use among a culture that has spent most of its history in relative isolation from the rest of human civilization.


Native Drugs

Throughout the islands that comprise contemporary Micronesia, psychoactive substances have been cultivated for nearly as long as people have lived there. Anthropologist Mac Marshall explains:


The peoples of Oceania lacked alcoholic beverages but many used other drug substances. The most common of these were obtained from two related plants: kava, an infusion made from the pounded root of Piper methysticum, and betel, the fresh leaves of the Piper betle, which are chewed in a quid with powdered lime and the fragrant seed of the Areca palm. Generally speaking, where betel was chewed, kava was not drunk, and vice versa (35).

All known records indicate that kava and betel remained the only psychoactive substances available on most of these islands for nearly two millennia. In that time, their use became ritualized and integral to the cultures at large. They were viewed as gifts from the land to its stewards. For example, kava, or sakau, as it is called on Pohnpei, has traditionally been used ceremoniously, in accordance with strict customs that varied from island to island. As with virtually all traditional practices in Micronesian culture, social hierarchies were always a factor. Still, one must remember that these islands were only grouped together by Spanish colonists in the nineteenth century. Before that, they were entirely separate kingdoms, each with their own languages and customs.

Frances X. Hezel, an American Jesuit missionary who lived on the island of Chuuk for nearly fifty years, claims that one nearly universal trait among these cultures is the idea that personal identity and the degree of respect due to an individual are based almost entirely on person’s age and family. Respect is always shown to elders, even if the elder in question is only a week older, and these dynamics form the basis of the extended family, which is by far the most important social unit in Micronesian culture (88). Within this hierarchical family structure, men and women also have very different but complementary roles. Hezel claims that this difference is based out of a mutual respect between the genders as well as a fundamentally different conception of equality (116). Perhaps most significantly, though, in Micronesian culture, a person’s lineage is what defines them. It is what links the individual to the land and to their clan, and most Micronesians recognize that without these two things, the individual would not exist. Land and family are therefore held in the highest regard, and with each of these concepts, the significance of one is often bound to the other (25).

Case in point: when a person rides in a taxi in Micronesia, one must inform the driver of the landowning family’s last name, as not only do the streets lack names, but the properties are all without addresses. This also makes it very difficult to give or receive directions. In this sense, land in this culture not only connects the individual to the family and to the country, but it also continues to divide these islands into the private property of hereditary tribes. Land is a birth right, passed on through matrilineal relations (13). As such a limited resource, it is also highly valued and has been at the root of tribal warfare for centuries (Ashby 11). Today, the FSM Constitution states that only Micronesians are allowed to own property; even the U.S. Embassy on Pohnpei is built on rented land. 


In Pohnpei, an indigenous myth claims that two brothers who also happened to be demigods created the pepper plant from which sakau is made out of pieces of their own skin (Ashby 80). Because of its sacred origins, great care must be taken in selecting the root and removing a part of it without killing the plant, as well as in its preparation and consumption. Traditionally, to be responsible for pounding the roots was also an honored position. According to custom, the pulp was then mixed with water and served in an empty, halved coconut shell. The first and fourth cups were always served to the guest with the highest title, whether determined by age or by the prominence of his family. Only men were allowed to participate in this ritual (Marshall 14). As with nearly every aspect of Micronesian life, there were very specific customs that had to be followed.

Historically, the drinking of sakau was primarily used to celebrate the joining of families through marriage and the reconciliation of rival tribes, but it was also a common gift to village elders, the act of which would then raise a family’s status among the community. Over the centuries, sakau has increasingly been used for recreational purposes as well, and, while not as formal, this still requires that many of these customs are followed. Sakau continues to be a common gift with which to show one’s respect, but other, more modern commodities like pigs and even automobiles have since come to serve this purpose as well (Hezel 55). Today, though still used ceremoniously, sakau is itself an exchange commodity. Outdoor sakau bars have popped up all over the country, most of which charge ten dollars for as much as a person can drink. As part of the Compact of Free Association between FSM and the United States, the U.S. dollar remains the official currency here. Unofficially, it rules the nation, as Micronesians have become dependent not only on U.S. assistance, which is set to expire in 2021, but also on the American imports that this money buys, which I will discuss in more detail shortly.

I had the experience of drinking sakau once when I lived in Micronesia. For those who do not drink it often, Friday night is the customary night to go. I later learned that this is because you may need two full days to recover from the hangover. We arrived at the sakau bar around six o’clock, just as they were still pounding the roots. Someone in our group said that the sakau is best if it has not been sitting around in the humidity for a few hours, and it is also apparently strongest early on, because they continue to mix the same pulp with additional water throughout the night. The idea is that it is a lot like using the same coffee grounds over and over in that it gets progressively weaker each time.


Seating was in open air shelters: thatch roofs and wooden tables. The current governor of the island happened to be there and received the first drink as a showing of respect. At our table, we followed the custom of allowing the oldest person in our group drink first and then passed the coconut shell around clockwise. Our party was comprised entirely of Americans, including one female. Nobody seemed to mind her participation; her money was apparently just as good as anybody else’s. Two of the members of our group came to this bar regularly and knew the owners by name. They said that this was one of the only places around that served sakau to women, and it was also an establishment that expatriates have been known to frequent. Still, although most of the people in our party had lived there for several years already and I had been there for just over six months, I could not help but feel like a tourist.


The sakau was thick like mud. Of course, it also tasted like mud and probably did in fact contain a fair amount of dirt. Someone in our group said that it was considered bad luck to be the one to finish the cup, which actually made sense, considering that whoever gets the last drink ends up with a mouthful of sediment. Of course, that same person also said that sakau does not usually affect a person the first time he or she drinks it. I quickly learned that this was absolutely not the case. Within ten minutes, my lips were numb, followed by my mouth and the back of my throat. Pretty soon, it felt like my whole brain was numb, not unlike the sensation of having received novocaine at the dentist.

When I stood up to use the restroom, I walked like a baby moose in wet cement. My motor functions were definitely impaired, but I could nonetheless continue to think relatively clearly — enough that I could observe myself moving like this and be somewhat amused by it. At this point, the numbness had spread throughout my body, and I felt very relaxed. Overall, it was a very pleasant sensation. Once I had gotten past the taste, I could see why a lot of people do this every Friday. However, I must note that this particular story does not have a happy ending. The rest of the night, my digestive system was transformed into an angry volcano god. Consequently, this occasion marked the first and last time I ever drank sakau... but if I try hard enough, I can still taste it.

Betel (Areca) nuts have fewer ceremonial uses in Micronesian culture, but chewing them has been a common practice for a very long time. Beyond dental decay and a possible correlation with depression, health specialists have found no other serious health risks that occur with the habitual use of betel nuts (Milgom 6). Areca is a mild stimulant, not unlike tobacco and often used in similar circumstances: to relax, to clear or focus one’s mind, or to maintain energy while working. However, Micronesians today commonly take a cigarette with the filter broken off and stick it into the split betel nut for the added nicotine fix. This, obviously, increases the potential to damage one’s health, as does the only slightly less common practice of soaking the tobacco in vodka first.


Colonial Powers


Although Magellan was the first European known to have to passed through this part of the world, having first set foot in Guam in 1521, most of the islands that make up present-day Micronesia were not discovered by the west until the early nineteenth century, when they began to appear on the maps of whalers and traders that traversed the Pacific. These sailors, most of whom were Spanish and later German, established informal colonies on the mountainous islands of Pohnpei and Kosrae, where goods were traded with the natives. According to Marshall, in addition to firearms, rum and tobacco were the most commonly desired imports among the islanders (32). He also notes that, “The date at which tobacco first reached Truk [Chuuk] is unknown, but, like many other Pacific Islanders, the Trukese [Chuukese] seemed willing to do almost anything to obtain it. This weakness was of course exploited by the traders who eventually moved into the area“ (36). 


As we know, this was also common practice on the North American continent as well. In fact, the methods of colonization maintain numerous parallels with those imposed on Native Americans, including similar degrees of violence. Donald McHenry claims that in the seventeenth century, Spanish crusaders reduced the population of one island from 50,000 to only 4,000 (5).


Most of the islands were taken over less aggressively, colonized through trade rather than directly by force. However, in many cases, the introduction of alcohol proved more damaging than guns or swords. Again, maintaining parallels to the tribulations endured by Native Americans, through a lack of sustained exposure to this kind of intoxicant throughout most of the history of their civilization, their bodies had not evolved any kind of tolerance to them. At various points in the past two hundred years, this weakness was then exploited by colonists as a way of increasing trade while destroying the culture that bound them together.

Rum was very popular among the natives, who Marshall claims modeled their drunken behavior after the sailors who sold it to them. Fights were extremely common. Although alcohol consumption was common in most of Micronesia throughout colonial rule, Marshall claims that in some places, like his surrogate home of Chuuk, “widespread drinking did not begin until the early twentieth century. But when it began, it did so with a vengeance” (40). By that time, however, the increasing missionary presence on many of these islands also strongly discouraged the use of any psychoactive substances, including alcohol and tobacco. Temperance in this context was seen as an expression of Christian faith. As a result, communities were being divided by the opposing ideologies of western, nineteenth century Christianity and a spirituality that found its many gods in nature — a conflict that continues through the present.


Germany officially seized control these islands from Spain in 1895, who sold off their remaining interests to them four years later. During this time, there was little change in the trade practices between islanders and Europeans. After World War I, however, Japan took control of Micronesia through a mandate by the League of Nations. Part of that arrangement stipulated that “intoxicating substances be kept from the natives” (Marshall 41). As such, the Japanese imposed an official prohibition of the importation of alcohol for sale to natives. Japanese nationals, however, were still allowed to drink. Ironically, Marshall contends that this law led to more widespread drinking among Micronesians because the Japanese had also driven out many of the missionaries with their occupation of these islands, and the church was the only entity that had proven even moderately successful in limiting the consumption of alcohol here (42).

Marshall also claims that Micronesians learned particular drinking habits from the Japanese nationals that are still highly problematic. Not only did many of the male Japanese citizens living on these islands often drink to excess, but it was also culturally acceptable for them to behave very differently when intoxicated, as though drinking represented a ‘time out’ from ordinary behavior and social responsibilities. According to Marshall, “Normal social rules are relaxed and almost any foolish behavior under the influence of alcohol can be overlooked” (45). Meanwhile, the police may not have been so willing to overlook these actions, as over sixty percent of all crimes committed during the Japanese occupation of these islands involved violation of these liquor laws (41).


When the U.S. took over Micronesia as part of a U.N. Trusteeship after World War II, the prohibition and the problems with drinking continued virtually uninterrupted. According to an American judge assigned to this region in the 1950s, “fully 50 percent of the criminal charges and convictions [were] for drinking” (Marshall 42). The U.S. occupiers continued to import alcohol for their own use, much like the Japanese had done before the war, and a law was issued by Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet, stating that “The use, possession, sale, purchase, transportation, manufacture, gift or receipt of any intoxicating liquor is hereby prohibited except as authorized by my Military Government” (46). However, in spite of this restriction, Micronesians learned how to generate their own alcohol. Marshall claims that American G.I.s had taught locals how to make coconut toddy and banana wine, among other potent concoctions, which were still allowed under this statute. Regardless, these laws were only followed about as closely as similar restrictions had been adhered to under Japanese occupation, which it say that they were mostly ignored.


In 1959, as part of a broader attempt to westernize Micronesia’s economy in response to a U.N. report detailing the squalid living conditions of the natives, many trade restrictions were lifted. For the first time, beer was allowed to be legally imported to these islands for consumption by Micronesians, and similar measures were passed that permitted the importation of distilled spirits the following year (Marshall 48). As the U.S. Department of the Interior allocated millions of dollars in funding to “'develop” Micronesia, much of this money was, in turn, spent on importing U.S. goods into this region. Beginning in this period, alcohol, as well as tobacco, rapidly became among the most common imports to these islands, aside from staple items like rice and gasoline. By the 1980s, alcohol accounted for over six percent of their imports (micsem.org). Micronesia was a thirsty market and American alcohol manufacturers were happy to provide them with exactly what they wanted.

Cold Beer and Fire Water


When my family and I first arrived in Micronesia, we looked at several houses in search of one that could aptly accommodate us. Near one of these houses, the previous residents had used an inlet from the lagoon as a de facto garbage dump, where hundreds of beer cans were left floating in the water. As we passed through the various neighborhoods of Kolonia (the main city on Pohnpei, with a population of about six thousand), as well as some nearby villages, we were astounded at how many people were sitting outside drinking alcohol on a weekday morning. This, as a first impression, seemed like it was just a part of island life. On every road, small shops made from empty shipping containers never seemed to be more than a mile apart, offering daily needs like beer, cigarettes, betel nuts, bags of doughnuts, and Spam. Only the larger stores sold liquor, though some container stores sold repurposed water jugs that were full of sakau.


According to the World Bank, the official unemployment rate of Micronesia is 22% (http://data.worldbank.org/country/micronesia-federated-states), but many of those who are not actively looking for work contribute to the mostly idle delinquency that is common on these islands. As I have suggested, it is not uncommon to see people sitting on porches or in “men’s houses,” consuming alcohol at all hours of the day or to encounter a drunk person first thing in the morning. Francis X. Hezel, as founder of the Micronesian seminar, an online resource dedicated to understanding Micronesian life and customs from a western perspective, claims that “intemperate use of alcohol [is] generally regarded as the single greatest curse in Micronesia.” In the late 1970s, “Police statistics showed time and time again that over 90 percent of all arrests were related to alcohol: for illegal possession and consumption of alcohol; or while under the influence of alcohol disturbing the peace, assault and battery, and vandalism; and burglary and larceny to get alcohol or money to purchase alcoholic beverages” (http://www.micsem.org/pubs/ articles/alcodrug/alcfsm/frames/chapter2fr.htm).

Anecdotally, I can add that within a few months of moving to Micronesia, our house was broken into while we were sleeping, and thieves stole my laptop, video camera and still camera. The thieves were never caught, but police suspected that it was local teenagers who stole our stuff, who then sold it to sailors on the ship that had just entered the port in exchange for just enough money to buy booze. They said that this kind of thing happens a lot. I was not exactly relieved to know that, nor to know that much of the work that I had saved on my computer was lost forever so that some kids could get twenty or thirty bucks to buy alcohol. I later learned that at one time or another (and usually both), this had also happened to just about every other instructor in my department. The consensus was that we were targeted because we had things that could be sold easily, if only for a mere fraction of their worth. Police had given us each the same explanation, and no arrests were ever made.


According to Hezel, “Alcohol is almost never drunk alone in Micronesia. Drinking is a social activity, one that has taken on cultural meanings and is performed in certain cultural contexts” (micsem.org). Many Micronesians consider excessive drinking to be a natural part of male adolescence and think little of it, even as, in many cases, it develops into full-blown alcoholism by adulthood. When teenagers are reprimanded for drunken behavior, Hezel contends that this affords them a level of attention from their elders that they seldom otherwise receive. “A son returning home drunk will be the center of attention in his family for at least a few hours, and perhaps even pampered by them until he sleeps off the alcohol” (micsem.org). This effectively incentivizes such behavior.

Marshall elaborates on the concept of ‘time out’ that he claims was learned from the drinking habits of the Japanese, saying that, “To become drunk in Truk [Chuuk] is to put on a culturally sanctioned mask of temporary insanity. While insane/drunk one can express physical and verbal aggression that would bring strong disapproval were one normal/sober... Trukese [Chuukese] believe that when one ingests an alcoholic beverage in whatever amount and of whatever sort, he is drunk and no longer entirely responsible for his words and deeds. Consumption of alcohol allows for an altered state of conscience in which one can get away with behaviors not normally permitted” (53). 


In this sense, the consumption of alcohol not only frees young Micronesian men from personal responsibility, but it also exempts them from some of the rigid customs of familial responsibility that is central to island life. As such, alcohol abuse is actively changing the dynamics of the basic family structure.

According to Hezel, in Micronesia today, it is generally expected that a young man will drink alcohol in excess, but that this level of consumption will gradually decrease as he enters his thirties, at which point sakau/kava then becomes the drink of choice. However, as many Micronesians have already developed serious drinking problems at this point, the sakau really becomes more of a supplement to the alcohol. Further, as there is generally no shame attached to the excessive consumption of alcohol until a man has reached a certain age, once he has reached that point where such behavior is no longer culturally acceptable, his drinking typically becomes less social and more destructive, often done in private. 


Sometimes this addictive behavior is transferred to the consumption of sakau, but the underlying behavior was learned while drinking alcohol and many of these habits inevitably carry over. Interestingly, in Chuuk, “The single word sakau is used to mean ‘alcoholic beverages of any sort’ and ‘the state of drunkenness’” (Marshall 51), thus further blurring the line between the consumption of one substance versus the other.

Marijuana in Micronesia


When I first started teaching at the College of Micronesia, I was amazed at how many of the male students seemed to have embraced western ideas of ‘pot’ culture and made these styles and expressions their own. Based on my own informal observations of riding in shared cabs every day and hearing the music blasting out of the male dorms as I walked to class, I can safely say that reggae music is very popular here, particularly because it is a way of identifying with drug culture. It was also extremely common to see young men wearing t-shirts, hats or jewelry with images of cannabis leaves or related iconography, again, presumably as a way of letting their peers know which crowd they identified with. Although marijuana is technically illegal here, possession carries no official penalty, and there is a maximum fine of fifty dollars for growing it (micsem.org).


Most sources claim that marijuana was first introduced to these islands by a Peace Corps volunteer in the late 1960s, who planted some cannabis seeds that he had brought from home and was pleased to learn how quickly things grow here. Since that time, marijuana has fit nicely into the leisurely pace of modern life in these islands, particularly among people who are of college age. In several of my classes, as part of a lesson aimed at practicing certain rhetorical strategies while engaging the students both verbally and intellectually, I had them choose topics to debate in class. I wanted to teach them how to form a cohesive argument using logos, pathos and ethos. The students voted anonymously about what they wanted to debate (with no interference on my part), and then I counted the votes on the board. In every class — four separate times — the topic that they wanted to debate was marijuana legalization. They could have chosen anything, and every time I taught this course, this is what they wanted to talk about.

Each time, I then had them split up, with one side of the class in favor of either loosening or eliminating marijuana laws and the other half for either making the laws more severe or maintaining the status quo. Everybody had to choose one side or the other. In every class, all of the female students took the side that was adamantly against the use of marijuana, along with usually one or two male students. The remaining students were then strongly in favor of recreational marijuana use, which they had no qualms admitting was based on personal experience. 


The group that was pro-marijuana was considerably more vocal in their opinions, and in many cases, substantially less coherent. The basic argument was usually, “We are going to smoke it anyway. Why not just let us enjoy it in the open?” Meanwhile, the counter-argument almost always featured an element of Christian dogma (i.e., “The Bible says not to.”) and the notion that marijuana instantly makes people crazy. Each anti-marijuana group had a story about somebody they know smoking pot and going insane, and each pro-marijuana group argued that to believe such a story was crazy. As an instructor and as a student of culture, it was interesting to mediate this debate and to hear conflicting perspectives of a subculture on this island that I knew little about.


As the college is about a ten minute drive from Kolonia, where we lived, I usually left our car at home and either took a one dollar cab ride or carpooled with my colleagues. On one particular Friday, the instructor that I was riding with said he needed to make a stop on the way home, so I went with him to a house where he bought some pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes for one dollar a piece. He just walked up behind a house and told the old woman at the window how many he wanted and she brought them out in a couple of minutes. Frankly, it was the fastest service I had ever witnessed on the entire island. I later learned that the family who sold the drugs were also the same people who owned the property that we rented, that this was a way of earning some retirement income from their farm property. It was a very small island, indeed.

One of the biggest issues facing Micronesia today stems from the fact that although they have adopted a free market economy, they lack any significant industry or jobs through which to earn income. They have no surplus commodities to export (except fish, which are being exploited by commercial fishing boats from other countries) and their imports are paid for primarily by U.S. grants. Growth in the private sector is virtually non-existent. Per capita, Micronesia has the highest ratio of government employees to private citizens than anywhere else in the world, largely because the Micronesian government, by means of the Compact of Free Association, is among the only reliable sources of revenue (micsem.org).

Growing and selling marijuana, in this economy, is for some a means of survival. According to Hezel, “Cultivation of the crop was often a family project, with even older women contributing to the business and demonstrating a surprising knowledge of cultivation techniques.” He continues:

Marijuana, like other drugs, is used socially in Micronesia... Generally marijuana is smoked by groups of young men, about fifteen to twenty years of age, who gather in a secluded place. Though less common, groups of young women may also smoke regularly. A men's house is an ideal smoking place, but normal residences are also used if few people are around. After dark, smokers may sit circled in a yard or along the shore. Little ceremony surrounds the smoking event itself. Those who smoke together are usually relatives or close friends (micsem.org).
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Many native Micronesians who identify as marijuana smokers have formed a subculture in a place in which such an idea is otherwise quite foreign. Historically, islanders were connected to one another entirely through family and marriage, and psychoactive drugs like sakau were only used in an inter-family context in order to forge new bonds or to strengthen old ones. Today, young Micronesians from different families and even different islands come together under a common identity that they have chosen for themselves. This, in itself, is highly significant. In this sense, pot culture is itself becoming an agent of change in the societal dynamics of Micronesian culture. 

According to my students, although about half of them did not claim to use any intoxicants, they said that most people their age prefer marijuana over sakau, and in many cases, they also prefer pot over alcohol. In other words, they were rejecting the traditional drug of choice and the customs that go along with it in favor of other substances that they could enjoy in a more diverse social circle made up of friends, thus following their own informal rules in place of tradition.

Conclusion


Drug use in Micronesia, while an integral part of the culture for thousands of years, has changed dramatically in the past hundred years with the introduction of foreign substances like alcohol, tobacco and marijuana. Whereas in the past, the use of psychoactive substances was largely regulated through formal customs, for many Micronesians today, aside from religious objections, the only thing standing between sobriety and intoxication is whether or not the person can afford it, which in many cases also determines the drug of choice. 


Social standing still plays a role in which substances are the preferred methods of inebriation, but based on my research, it seems that younger Micronesian males are more likely to drink alcohol or smoke marijuana, whereas when they are older, they may switch to sakau, but even that is often lacking in the traditions once associated with its use. Today, anybody with ten bucks can drink as much sakau as he or she wants and what were once rigid customs are now simply considered good etiquette. This commodification of culture is particularly troubling if we are to consider the important role that sakau has played in Micronesian society throughout its very long history.


Furthermore, in the past fifty years, numerous problems have arisen as a result of rampant alcoholism on these islands, whether acts of violence between members of one clan and another, sexual abuse within one’s own family, or increased rates of depression and suicide (micsem.org). Alcohol in particular has done more damage to Micronesian culture than even centuries of colonial rule. Ease of access, extremely high rates of unemployment, and decaying social norms that would normally put the community before the desires of the individual are all factors that have contributed to its increased prevalence in recent years. Today, alcoholism is a huge problem in Micronesia. Beer imported from the U.S. or the Philippines is comparable in price to pot, typically about a dollar per can, and inexpensive vodka is sold in half liter bottles that are often found shattered on the side of the road.

Though seemingly less damaging, marijuana use has also gained considerable popularity in Micronesia over the past fifty years. Although primarily smoked by the young (but not entirely), it tends to be cultivated and sold by the older generation as a means of generating much needed income. Based on my observations, marijuana use on these islands seems to function significantly as a means of inclusion within a self-defined subculture, an idea that, for better or worse, runs counter to the traditional social structure of Micronesian society.

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In 2021, the Compact of Free Association between the United States and the Federated States of Micronesia is set to expire, and if it not renewed, as Congress claims will be the case, the Micronesian economy, fragile as it is, will almost certainly collapse. Over 90% of their GDP currently comes from U.S. aid, whether directly, through government grants, or indirectly, through private investment. When these funds are no longer available, the commodities that they can buy, including alcohol and tobacco, will also disappear from shelves. 

When this happens, the government of Micronesia will have essentially two choices: a path of isolationism, reverting to a way of life that worked for this culture for thousands of years, or they will simply partner with another nation, such as China, to develop a similar arrangement for an infusion of funds in exchange for military, fishing and trading rights. Although the plan has always ostensibly been for the people of FSM to establish full independence from the U.S., dependence is exactly the central issue that is holding them back. Drug use, most notably including alcohol, is destroying this culture, transforming its rich traditions and ensuring that the American dollar continues to reign supreme.


If, however, Micronesia is to lose its status as a freely associated state with the expiration of the Compact, the legacy of U.S. occupation of these islands will have been primarily negative, and the peoples of Micronesia will be forced to redefine their culture both domestically and internationally, either through a continued dependence on other colonial powers or through a return to isolationism. Trade is among the most significant factors in determining which path Micronesia will take, and now that so much of the population is addicted to alcohol and tobacco, it seems likely that they will want to maintain the importation of these and other substances, no matter what the cost incurred to both the individual and to the culture at large.



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