by tom hodgkinson In November 1995 a million British parents were jolted into the realization that their kids were up to something they didn't understand. Leah Betts went into a coma, and then died, after apparently taking her first ecstasy pill. Headline writers at the tabloids had a field day. Sentimental, heart-string-tugging headlines, designed to prey on the worries of ignorant, frightened parents, exploded into living rooms. "It could be your child," warned the Daily Mail. "Poisoned: Spiked ecstasy tablet puts birthday girl, 18, into coma," the Daily Mirror put it. "Leah's Last Words: She named ecstasy pill pusher then pleaded 'help me mum, help me'" was how Today reported her death. All the papers used a picture of a helpless, innocent-looking Leah in a hospital bed, tubes sticking out of her nose, an image that even the most hard-hearted rave fan would find difficult to remain unmoved by. Leah's father, Paul Betts, a retired policeman, and stepmother, Jan, willingly colluded with the media to start a campaign against the drug — which, statistically, has less chance of killing you than a peanut does. A poster campaign was launched, featuring a photo of Leah alongside a nastily sarcastic "sorted" and the words: "Just one ecstasy tablet took Leah Betts." In Brighton, which has a thriving dance scene, they couldn't put up the posters fast enough, so quickly were they being defaced by local apologists for the dance culture. The anarchist band Chumbawamba responded with a poster that read "Distorted," claiming that you are far more likely to die from eating a bay leaf than from taking ecstasy.

Glossary: Sorted is British slang for something along the lines of "cool." As in, "I got some E" — "Sorted!" To say it like you mean it, pronounce it "sore-id" (emphasis on second syllable). It comes from "sorted out" and was originally used to apply to drugs, as in, "I've sorted out three Es for Friday night." So if someone offered you drugs in a club, and you already had some, you would say, "I'm sorted, mate." From there it was an easy step for "sorted" to mean "fine" or "cool." Get off my head is probably clear in this context. You could also be so drunk that you're off your head. Tipp-ex is the British brand-name equivalent of White-Out. Thinner is added to Tipp-ex if it gets too goopy to use. Tipp-ex thinner is also inhaled at about the same point in life when inhaling glue seems like a good idea. Dope is not heroin in Britain; it is merely pot. Football hooligans are soccer fans who are prone to violent outbursts if their team wins or loses. This was a huge problem for English football in the Eighties.

As the case was analyzed further, the situation turned out to be less simple than the newspapers would have us imagine. Leah didn't quite fit the myth, keenly promoted by the tabloids, of an innocent victim of an evil pusher. According to Nicholas Saunders, the avuncular author of two meticulously researched books on ecstasy, it was not Leah's first pill. She had had at least four before she died.

At the time Mr. Betts said that whoever it was who had given Leah her E was practically a murderer, and he vowed to find the "killer." "When it turned out it was her best friend who had supplied her," says Saunders, "there was no question of charges being taken." It also emerged that it was not the ecstasy that killed Leah. She in fact died from liver failure after drinking too much water, as she knew that ecstasy has a dehydrating effect.

Why did the Leah Betts affair receive so much publicity, when other ecstasy-related deaths (most estimates put the total at around 60 over the last ten years) merit few paragraphs, if that? This is probably because it was the only ecstasy-related death where a picture was released of someone who was actually in the process of dying, and was thus an effective weapon in the war between those who just say "no" against those who just say "yes." After all, even the lowest tabloid will not publish a picture of a corpse on its front page.

The Betts parents undertook a nation-wide tour, going into schools and putting on shows trying to warn sophisticated 15-year-olds of the dangers of the drug. They appeared on TV talk shows, basically taking the line: "We want people to be given the information to make an informed choice, and the choice should be 'no'." The campaign may have frightened off kids who have never taken the drug, but those who had, and who had not died, but who — on the contrary — had enjoyed themselves, were unlikely to change their minds. In the Sunday Telegraph last year, 19-year-old journalist Libby Brooks described spending a day with Paul and Jan Betts. During the article she admits, "I am not a regular user, but from time to time I like to get off my head" — a trait she shares with this correspondent. As Brooks leaves the well-meaning couple, she concludes: "I want to call them back and tell them that I have been converted too. But that would make me a liar. Those good people have nothing to teach me. They have much to learn. And it makes me sad that they will never understand why."

Among those who would count themselves as part of the dance culture, there seems to be a consensus that Leah Betts' death did help because it provoked debate. "All the dance magazines debated the issue," says Mary Ann Wright, currently working on a PhD on dance culture at London's City University. The Face magazine carried an interview with Paul and Jan. The Guardian held a debate on the subject. Information on the drug forced its way into the public arena. "And it did highlight the fact that there is a small chance of getting a bad reaction from Ecstasy," says Wright. "Some parents called drug agencies, and were assured that their child probably did not have a problem."

However, those who were already into E and the culture that surrounds it found the campaign irritating. "It was a horrendous thing that happened to Leah Betts' parents," says Wright. "But does that give them a right to prescribe a formula for the whole country?"

Recent signs in club land indicate that, in fact, ecstasy use may be on the way out. An article in London listings magazine Time Out by Matthew Collin, a former editor of the style magazine i-D, says that while there is little statistical evidence that ecstasy is losing popularity — in 1995, Customs and Excise seized 456kg of MDMA, a 21 per cent increase on 1994, and which compares with zero ten years ago — some clubbers are saying that it is. But, he concludes, the only factor "that could seriously dent the drug's popularity is changing pop cultural fashions." In other words, any decline in the drug's use would have little or nothing to do with campaigns, legislation, propaganda.

On this point he concurs with Richard Benson, editor of The Face magazine. "The scene reached a real peak about a year ago. Glastonbury was very good, the music was very good. There's since been a comedown element. These things go in cycles." And cycles which are not determined by the directions government would have them go. Nicholas Saunders uses the example of the football hooliganism of the Eighties. "I think events will take their course. The authorities are never in control, they're always one stage behind. For example, all attempts to stamp out football hooliganism failed, and it came to an end of its own accord. The moods of the people are not dictated by government."

And this is really the key issue at stake. Can governments and parents tell its children and its citizens how to behave? Will campaigns and laws ever have an effect? A cursory glance at history will reveal that attempts to limit or control our behavior are doomed to failure, because the spirit of the people will prevail. As thinker John Michell, author of Who Wrote Shakespeare? puts it, "Whenever you get clampdowns you get a problem. Before drugs were illegal, opium and cannabis were freely available and no one really thought much about it."

It could be argued, too, that ecstasy culture has also spawned a criminal class, which is making money from the E generation. But there is surprisingly little hostility to dealers on the scene — although most people would prefer a situation where they were not criminalized for making an informed decision on their choice of intoxicant.

And what else has happened? While a year and a half ago, when it seemed as if every newspaper was running the headline "the agony of ecstasy" at least once a week, recently they have been full of stories on "swinging London," and "cool Britannia." Surely the two cultures cannot be unrelated? While it would certainly be absurd to attribute the cultural confidence the country is currently experiencing solely to ecstasy use, it would also be foolish to separate the two phenomena. Just as LSD and pot-smoking allowed people in the Sixties to look around them in new ways, and therefore create appropriate music and art for the times, so it is with ecstasy. Ecstasy use has helped stimulate a creative, entrepreneurial generation who are doing things despite an unhelpful welfare state system and a plethora of restrictive, prohibitive laws which seek to limit their freedoms. Home Secretary Michael Howard's pledge to "stop the pushers from poisoning our children" has never looked more absurd in the light of swinging Britain. He might as well be saying "stop the pushers giving the young people drugs and stimulating a cultural renaissance the like of which has not been seen in this country since the Sixties and for which this government will then take the credit."

"Something must be done," goes the call of the cowering establishment, when faced with phenomena it does not understand. This is bad government. If you want a healthy society, then nothing must be done. Just let the people get on with it. As Plato says, "things are better taken care of than you can possibly imagine."

Want to know what Tripod members thought about this article? Does ecstasy buy good fun, good sex, good time? Too good to ever be legal? Check out the survey results. Or find out what Tripod's Doctor Bob thinks of ecstasy (one should know one's poison). And for a legal buzz a bit like caffeine, you might want to try Herbal X. Just don't expect a high by doubling the dose.

28-year-old Tom Hodgkinson is the editor of The Idler, Great Britain's fabulous journal of idle philosophy and culture. He is also a member of the Manchester Guardian's development staff, and recently co-edited The Idler's Companion: An Anthology of Lazy Literature, a collection of the sayings of famous idlers past and present. Read Tripod's interview of Tom here.

© 1997 Tom Hodgkinson. All Rights Reserved.