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, 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. The slippage from civil noncompliance to criminality was mirrored in enforcement practices. 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, indoor plant table 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 anti-cannabis 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, 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 anti-regulatory logic prevailed in August 2017 when the county placed a moratorium on cannabis commerce. Still, hydroponic flood table 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 HmongAmerican 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. At the 2018 town hall, and numerous prior meetings, they emphasized their status as legitimate community members — veterans, citizens, consumers of county goods, local property owners, “good” growers and medical users — not nuisances, criminals, foreigners or outsiders. In interviews and public forums many Hmong-American cultivators expressed a desire to comply with the rules. Their efforts, however, they said, were frustrated not only by linguistic and cultural differences, but also understaffed and underfunded permitting, licensing and community services agencies. Hmong-American cultivators routinely told us about their desires to settle down, build homes and plant other crops. “I’m growing watermelons, pumpkins and tomatoes,” one cultivator told us, but he was waiting for a permit to build his house, a process another interviewee reported took 3 years. Though the town hall meeting sought to address cultural misunderstanding, this framing overlooks how misunderstanding — of Hmong-Americans or cannabis producers generally — is produced by criminalizing enforcement practices. Properties given as gifts in the Hmong-American community were seen as evidence of criminal conspiracy, not generous family assistance; land financing networks evidenced drug trafficking organizations, not kin-based support and weak credit access; repetitive farm organization patterns suggested “organized crime” , not ethnic knowledge-sharing circuits. When Hmong-Americans, leery of engagement with government agencies and unfriendly civic venues, self-provisioned services, including firefighting teams, informal food markets and neighborhood watches, these actions were taken to confirm suspicions that they could not assimilate. Now that some Hmong-Americans are considering, or already are, moving away in response to county efforts, the sheriff’s prior description of them as temporary residents seems prophetically manufactured.

Rather than speaking about pathological forms, Douglas focuses on marginal conditions. Her basic premise is that objects, practices, behaviors, and ideas that do not fit the existing social classifications are considered polluting, impure, and even dangerous and thus should be separated . Managing spatiality is a technique of power that allows the legitimate authority to reject “inappropriate” elements and protect what it deems normal, natural, and right. In this paradigm, space is not value-free but constructed through politics and power relations. Take, for example, racial segregation, building the wall to isolate immigrants, hot spot policing, skid rows, mental hospitals, jails and prisons—in all these cases, devaluation of individuals involves their spatial separation. Socio-spatial stigmatization is a mutually constitutive process, in which places inherit the stigma of persons, but persons also can be stigmatized through their interaction with places . For instance, concentrating homeless shelters into specific areas of a town tends to reinforce the stigmatized understanding of such areas. In similar ways, the stigma attached to a homeless shelter extends to individuals using it. Those who live in areas with a high concentration of “disordered” facilities, practices, and individuals tend to oppose them physically, ideologically, and discursively . For example, in his research of addiction treatment clinics in Toronto, Christopher Smith shows that residents perceive these facilities as a threat to the productive places and try to enforce certain socio-spatial borders . Previous research showed that medical cannabis dispensaries were more likely to be located in less desirable parts of a neighborhood, characterized by high poverty level, unemployment, and homelessness . However, rolling flood tables we know very little about the recreational cannabis facilities: Are they perceived as a “matter out of place”? Do they blur, contradict, and otherwise confuse the moral and social order of the communities?

This study investigates the extent to which cannabis is normalized in California. Normalization is a barometer of changes in social behavior and cultural perspectives . Drawing from the Thomas theorem—stating that if men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences—I suggest that if cannabis is conceived as legitimate, it will not be pushed to the geographical and/or social margins. By the same token, if it is viewed as dangerous and illegitimate, then cannabis dispensaries will be regarded as sites of contagion, which are to be marginalized and isolated. I conduct a regression analysis to identify factors that explain variations in cannabis practices at the city level. In particular, I examine the relationship between the support of cannabis legalization in California cities and the number of cannabis licenses issued by local governments. Following the normalization theory, I expect that cities whose residents supported cannabis legalization are more likely to permit legal cannabis dispensaries within their borders. If residents view cannabis as legitimate and socially acceptable, local governments will favor cannabis-related activities on their territories. I also expect homogeneity in the characteristics of cities whose citizens supported cannabis legalization and those that permitted cannabis businesses. For example, if cities whose residents voted for cannabis legalization have a higher percentage of the middle and upper class, then cities that de facto legalized cannabis would also have a higher percentage of the middle and upper class. Since cannabis businesses create jobs and bring tax revenues to city budgets, local governments have strong incentives to permit cannabis-related activities, especially when most citizens favor legalization. But imagine situations in which citizens voted for cannabis legalization, but governments forbade any cannabis businesses, or, on the contrary, citizens did not support the legalization, but governments adopted pro-cannabis policies. These examples demonstrate the dissociation between the public’s wishes and the government’s deeds and cast doubts on the legitimacy of cannabis in a given jurisdiction. As I discussed earlier, cannabis users and distributors bear a stigma that can potentially extend to other people and places. Prosperous communities may decide to distance themselves from the possible harm of cannabis stigma and forbid any cannabis related activities .

In contrast, for economically disadvantaged communities, financial benefits may outweigh the harm of stigma and reinforce the marginalization of places with already limited resources. I look at the adoption of pro-cannabis regulation as an example of morality policies, through which local governments draw a boundary between “pure” and “polluted”, “ordered” and “disordered”, “safe” and “dangerous.” To get a more nuanced picture of the legalization and normalization processes, it is important to understand the moral-economic rationale behind decision making at the city level. The question is not only whether cannabis is legal, but where, how, and to what degree it is legal. exploring which cities are more likely to allow cannabis businesses, this research contributes to understanding the relationship between legitimacy and legality and helps determine the current status of cannabis in California. Moreover, the focus on city-level data provides an insight into how boundaries of normality vary across local contexts. Acting as moral entrepreneurs, local governments rely on principles of the politics of pollution and create a cognitive map of acceptable and non-acceptable places . Previous studies have highlighted the importance of religiosity, economic development, political competition, community composition, organizational perviousness, and historical legacies in explaining moral policy outcomes . This research takes a different path and sets out to clarify the relationship between changes in public attitudes and the adoption of morality policies . I posit that greater social and cultural accommodation of cannabis can explain permissive cannabis policies only to a certain degree. Licensing agencies collect information at the individual level. For the current project, I aggregate the number of issued licenses at the city level, which excludes any personal identification from the dataset . The reasoning behind aggregating data at the city level is that according to the Medical and Adult Use Cannabis Regulation and Safety Act , cities have the full power and authority to enforce cannabis regulation and complete responsibility for any regulatory function relating to the licensees within the city limits. Local jurisdictions decide whether cannabis businesses will be legal on their territories or not, define which types of cannabis activity to allow , and establish regulatory schemes for activities involving growing or selling cannabis.

Before applying for a cannabis license, an applicant has to obtain a permit from the city administration that would enable him/her to conduct commercial cannabis activity. The permit does not guarantee each applicant a cannabis license, but it gives him/her the green light to advance to the final stage and submit the application to a licensing agency. The dependent variable has three different measures: the total number of cannabis licenses, flood and drain tray the number of cultivation cannabis licenses , and the number of sale and distribution cannabis licenses . I suggest that factors explaining the permissiveness of local governments towards cannabis cultivation and cannabis distribution are not exactly the same. Cultivation primarily occurs in private spaces and thus is hidden from the public eye. On the contrary, retail is associated with public display: shop-windows, street signs, and adverThising boards make cannabis dispensaries visible and accessible. I expect that the public display of cannabis will be more stigmatized than its private cultivation. The normalization of cannabis is a gradual process, and we cannot expect it to progress at the same pace in different localities. But we can assume that cities whose residents supported cannabis legalization will be more likely to pass pro-cannabis laws. As seen in Tab. 2, 72% of California cities supported the legalization of cannabis in 2016, but only 45% of them legalized cannabis-related economic activities within their borders. Moreover, of those cities whose residents did not support Proposition 64, 22% eventually permitted cannabis companies, despite the lack of public support . There is an obvious gap between people’s preferences and governments’ actions, which should be explained. Before turning to the description of other independent variables, I should address the issue of moral hypocrisy. Greater cultural acceptance of cannabis does not necessarily translate into moral acceptance of its sale and use. In particular, we do not know whether people who supported legalization are amenable to cannabis dispensaries in their neighborhoods—i.e., we cannot exclude the NIMBY phenomenon . The general population may support the legalization of recreational cannabis for a variety of reasons. The willingness to legalize cannabis may follow a pragmatic logic: decriminalizing cannabis generates tax revenues, creates jobs, and diminishes law enforcement costs. People may also support legalization because it gives an opportunity to begin repairing the damages caused by the criminal justice system in the past. Moreover, it may be perceived as a progressive move that fits general liberalizing trends, including same-sex marriage, abortion, pre-marital sex, drinking, gambling, and so on. And yet, people may be moral hypocrites: they may support the idea of cannabis legalization and act in discord with it by opposing the location of cannabis dispensaries in their backyards. The statistical analysis cannot account for these nuances and, thus, simplifications are inevitable.

For the purposes of this analysis, “legitimacy” means tolerance of cannabis use rather than its total acceptance; it is what people are ready to declare publicly rather than act upon. Legitimacy is a necessary but not sufficient condition for legality. What other factors can explain the responsiveness of local governments to morally controversial issues?The analysis demonstrates that cities whose residents supported cannabis legalization are more likely to permit cannabis-related activities within their borders . It is not surprising since, as I mentioned above, 45% of cities supporting cannabis legalization allow legal cannabis companies. The main question is: What other city properties are associated with the adoption of procannabis legislation? Opinion polls show that the middle- and upper-class representatives, young adults, and non-Hispanic citizens support cannabis legalization at higher rates than other social groups. I ran a separate model regressing the percent of support for Proposition 64 on the index of economic prosperity, percent of people aged 20 to 29, and percent of the Hispanic population . The results confirm that the support of cannabis legalization is associated with a higher index of economic prosperity, a larger percentage of young adults, and a lower percentage of the Hispanic population. This association is significant at the 0.01 level. However, as we see in Table 4, cities that eventually allowed legal cannabis companies, on the contrary, are more likely have a lower index of economic prosperity , a lower percentage of young population , and a higher percentage of the Hispanic population . The disparity between the demand and supply offers an intriguing puzzle. Economically prosperous cities, on average, express higher support of cannabis legalization, but it does not mean that they are more likely to permit legal cannabis companies within their borders. Moreover, there are significant differences between licenses issued for sale and cultivation. Cultivation licenses are more likely to be issued in cities with a lower percentage of the young population, which can be explained by the fact that these are mostly rural remote areas, and young adults live in more urbanized places. Sale licenses are associated with three other factors: a higher percentage of the Hispanic population, a lower city’s fiscal score, and higher violent crime rates. There is substantial evidence in the findings that socio-spatial stigmatization of cannabis persists despite its legalization. Places whose citizens grant legitimacy to cannabis might not be ready to publicly display cannabis within their territories. Potential tax revenues and employment opportunities are not worth the moral trade-off for middle- and upper-class communities. For example, Santa Monica and Laguna Beach residents were among the strongest supporters of cannabis legalization—75% and 62% of cannabis support, respectively—but their city governments banned any cannabis-related economic activities. Both Santa Monica and Laguna Beach are predominantly non-Hispanic and wealthy.88 In contrast, economically and socially disadvantaged cities have to rely on potential tax revenues and jobs generated by legal cannabis businesses and, thus, permit cannabis companies even without public support. Take, for example, Calexico and Firebaugh, whose citizens did not support cannabis legalization , but city governments permitted cannabis companies. Both cities are predominantly Hispanic and poor . Irvine and Santa Ana—cases that are familiar to most UCI residents—are yet another example of the disparity between supply and demand. Irvine residents supported cannabis legalization at higher rates than Santa Ana residents . However, Santa Ana permitted all kinds of cannabis-related economic activities and has more than 20 cannabis dispensaries, and Irvine allowed only cannabis testing labs.

Many studies provide evidence that the war on cannabis was a moral crusade that undermined the medical professionals, discredited scientific research, and spread fears among the population. In this constructivist approach to the drug problem, anti-cannabis rhetoric functions as a currency in political campaigns: the purpose of the war on cannabis was not to counter actual drug crime or drug abuse but to respond to white middle-class anxiety towards immigrants, minorities of color, or political activists. By performing a symbolic—rather than instrumental—role , anti-cannabis legislation drew a line between “normal” and “pathological” substances and between deserving and undeserving citizens. Sociology of deviance defines several essential characteristics of morality policies. First, moral laws are centered around controversial questions on which it is difficult to reach a compromise. Since different groups have opposing and even mutually exclusive concepts of virtue, moral issues tend to recur now and then and rarely come to an ultimate resolution. Second, moral laws seek to establish a set of values that dominate at their present time. According to James Hunter, laws are not just about what we can and cannot do; laws “contain a moral story that proclaims the ideals and principles of the people who live by them” . Through lawmaking, societies create “a particular nomos, a normative universe that draws distinctions, discriminates, judges, excludes and includes” . Third, passing moral laws involves the work of “moral entrepreneurs,” the rule creators and rule enforcers who invest their efforts in constructing a new meaning of goodness . Moral crusaders believe that what they do is good for others and that by improving morality, they help people live a better life . Moral entrepreneurs can have differing agendas—prohibitionist, abolitionist, humanitarian, traditionalist, liberal, etc.—but their ultimate goal is to change the existing rule. Fourth, morality policies are often difficult to enforce because the policy’s objective is symbolic and offers no clear operationalization . The application of moral laws does not affect actual behavior—for example, it does not decrease drug consumption rates—but instead shies it away from public display, encouraging the development of the black market We tend to think about moral politics as banning certain activities rather than allowing them.

This research, on the contrary, dry rack cannabis focuses on the legalization of cannabis as an example of permissive morality regulation. The moral dilemma that characterizes the current cannabis debate can be described as “social expectations vs. core individual rights.” As the history of cannabis criminalization shows, prohibition stood as a symbol of the general system of values with which the conservative white majority was identified. The Protestant ethics measured men’s moral worthiness in terms of productivity: any activity distracting an individual from being productive is a waste of time37 . Using cannabis for pleasure is immoral not only because it can affect an individual’s physical well-being but also because it represents a particular lifestyle and attitude toward work and social responsibilities. In turn, the legalization rhetoric centers on the discussion over the limits of state intervention in the private behavior of citizens . The US Constitution guarantees the right to privacy and non-interference by the state in personal matters, and the California Constitution lists a right to privacy among the inalienable rights .38 The history of cannabis criminalization shows that ideas and moral visions have been a decisive factor in the adoption of anti-cannabis legislation. Currently, California is in a transition period when cannabis use is slowly getting normalized in public perception but continues to be illegal and pathological from the federal government’s perspective. This ambiguity impedes the formation and establishment of a new universal meaning of legal cannabis. Analyzing the context of the war on drugs is important for understanding the departure point of this ideational change. However, as I argue in the next section, in order to apprehend today’s status of cannabis, we should turn away from the macro-level explanations and shift the attention to local actors and on-the-ground processes. The crime control paradigm is preponderant in the socio-legal literature on drugs. The social history of cannabis in the US is often recorded as a top-down, event-based analysis, which focuses on capstone legislations, elite actors, and political intentions. From this perspective, the war on drugs results from the deliberate actions of the state officials and the mass media against marginalized groups. Although these views are extremely valuable for understanding the deep historical forces of mass incarceration, the focus on top-down processes may sometimes overshadow other possible interpretations of the drug problem. By devoting much attention to the public debates over the dangers of cannabis, these studies tell us a great deal about political agendas but relatively little about the role of medical professionals, pharmacists, manufacturers, associations, businesses, schools, families, local authorities, cannabis users and distributors in defining cannabis.

Drugs are not only a criminal justice issue but also a societal problem, a medical problem, a moral problem, a market problem, and so on. As Joseph Spillane points out, much of the action happens “on the street, in the daily interactions among sellers, users, families, doctors, police, and jailers” . As I argue further, the prevailing orthodoxy often fails to understand criminalization as a complex dynamic process with several levels of action and thus casts aside many essential questions. One voice that is consistently missing in the constructivist approach to the drug problem is the voice of drug addicts and their immediate environments. As Michael Fortner argues, the existing perspectives on the war of crime tend to minimize the agency of African Americans who are typically portrayed as victims of the power of racial order and reactionary Republican politics. The New Jim Crow’s thesis focuses on white power and black powerlessness, which renders black politics invisible and obscures the causes of mass incarceration . According to Fortner, many scholars treat actual crime as fiction rather than lived experience. To cover the theoretical gaps, he investigates the role of the “black silent majority” in adopting punitive legislation, namely the Rockefeller drug laws in New York City in 1973. His study provides several critical analytical implications. First, we cannot study the drug problem out of context without exploring how local institutions and local processes influenced the framing of public concerns and policy responses . Second, aggregated staThistics give little information about attitudes to crime and drugs. As Fortner demonstrates, white districts in New York City experienced significantly lower violent crime rates, drug addiction, and deaths due to drugs than black areas. The devastating effect of the drug and crime problem on black communities raised great concerns among the black population and led to higher support of anti-drug and anti-crime policies. Evidence from California reveals similar patterns: in the 1970s, whites in Los Angeles were more concerned with pollution and noise than crime, while black citizens listed better crime control as the number one issue . This picture contradicts the popular notion in socio-legal studies that whites supported punitive policies more than blacks.

By focusing on white victimization and black criminalization, researchers neglected the activism of the urban black middle class, which created incentives for local politicians to respond to demands for greater punitive policies .James Forman advances a similar argument showing that working- and middle-class black communities did not support the decriminalization of cannabis. The history of cannabis is often presented as a part of the war on drugs. However, as Forman righty notices, the anti-drug campaign aimed at heavier drugs. Nixon’s declaration of drugs as the nation’s largest enemy coincided with the first attempts to decriminalize cannabis at the state level by making possession of small amounts of cannabis a civil fraction rather than a criminal offense. The widespread knowledge about the minimal risks of cannabis use boosted decriminalization movements in many states. Since the pro-cannabis movements’ leaders were overwhelmingly white, roll bench cannabis decriminalization was framed as a question of civil liberties and individual autonomy rather than racial justice. In Washington, D.C., the black community took cannabis decriminalization with skepticism as a policy that protects young whites and oppresses young blacks. White teenagers could smoke cannabis without jeopardizing their future because their middle-class cocoon could shield them from the consequences of drug use. But, poor black teenagers had much less room for error because they would risk graduating from school or finding a job . In other words, to the African American communities, the drug problem was not just a hypothetical threat. The 1960s the heroin epidemics had instilled a real sensibility for the drug problem and taught the members of black communities that addiction could destroy families, schools, and entire neighborhoods. Another particularity of the crime control perspective is the reliance on law and legislation as a sole historical marker of change . The “told” history of cannabis prohibition is often plotted as a sequence of events leadings from one capstone legislation to another. Such an approach overemphasizes the role of formal laws in triggering social and institutional change. In reality, legislation itself does not cause change; its scope, significance, and relevance are determined in the process of interpretation and further implementation. To understand when, where, and how change happens and what role the law plays in the process, we need to look at local phenomena and on-the-ground practices. The event-based perspective fails to recognize that the passage of legislation is the continuation of a process that begins before and lasts after its adoption .The legal prohibition of cannabis is not merely a political project organized by a cohesive group of elite actors but a multilevel, complex, and dynamic social process. Formal legislations affirm rather than cause social and cultural changes, especially when the primary function of law is symbolic. For example, the legalization of the medical use of cannabis in California in 1996 did not affect cannabis arrest rates. The number of arrests for cannabis possession was steadily growing until 2010 and decreased five-fold in one year after the passage of SB-1449, which reclassified the possession of small amounts of cannabis as a misdemeanor . Thus, the legalization of medical cannabis symbolized the public affirmation of new social norms and ideals, but it did not change law enforcement practices. The SB-1449, on the contrary, affected people’s behavior in a more direct and instrumental manner, but its adoption would not be thinkable without the preceding cultural shift. On Fig. 1, the legalization of the medical use of cannabis in California would be a constructed event, while the adoption of the SB-1449 would be on the level of observable occurrences that followed the event. Yet another limitation of the criminal justice perspective is its focus on the national trends, federal mass media, or the general public. It is important to remember that the early regulatory efforts happen at the local level. When scholars use the term “public” , they often refer to “national” in its scope, impact, or character . According to James Hunter, public debate should mean not national but local debate “among people who live and work in relative proximity to each other and who care about their common neighborhoods and communities, towns, cities, and regions; and within institutions that are prominent and integrated into the communities where these people live” . There is a vast territory of social life between national culture and individual meanings, which is often overlooked in the canonical socio-legal literature on drugs. The focus on local processes allow us to see that criminalization and legalization were happening at the same time; that the debate on the decriminalization of cannabis took place before the full-fledged war on drugs ; that African Americans supported cannabis legalization at the lower rates but eventually had higher rates of incarceration for cannabis arrests ; that the decriminalization efforts of the Kennedy, Johnson, and Ford administration were not temporary and incidental but had longlasting effects and eventually resulted in cannabis legalization; that many legislative proposals failed and did not become “events” but affected the future legislations; that 2/3 of California cities supported cannabis legalization, but only 1/3 of them allowed legal cannabis businesses .In this section, I focus on the history of cannabis legalization in California. In particular, I describe the role of social movements in legalizing medical and recreational cannabis, their failures and victories, tactical repertoires, political threats, and discursive opportunities.

Historically, the war on cannabis drew a line between “productive” members of society and “dangerous” elements , thereby serving normality judgments. Today, cannabis is in a transition state: although the law made it legal in California, large segments of the population and local governments still do not accept the idea of recreational cannabis and refuse its incorporation in the communities. I explore cannabis regulation as an example of moral laws, i.e., policies that deal with problems of moral order and deviance . According to Max Weber, certain laws, especially those relating to moral issues, are not accepted on the basis of their legality, but because they express legitimate moral values . The legalization of cannabis in California presents an ideal context to unpack the mechanisms that explain why some jurisdictions move toward more permissive moral policies, and others do not. The implementation of morality policies at the city level is a neglected area of research. Many writings focus on the nature of morality policies and whether or not the state should regulate certain individual practices. Still, little efforts have been directed toward understanding how these legislations are created and carried out. This study provides an empirical test of the morality of law and explains what drives the adoption of permissive cannabis regulation at the bottom level of US politics—cities. There is a commonly held misconception that since most citizens supported the legalization of cannabis in California, its use and sale is allowed throughout the state. However, a closer look at local political projects shows that public support cannot fully explain the adoption of pro-cannabis legislation. For example, in Santa Monica, 75 % of voters supported cannabis legalization in 2016, but the city government forbade all economic activities related to recreational cannabis. Meanwhile, most of Firebaugh’s citizens voted against the legalization of recreational cannabis, but the city government permitted cannabis grow equipment businesses. By focusing on cannabis legalization in the cities of California, this project brings to the fore the importance of local actors and decisions.

Despite the significance of local policies, we still lack a comprehensive body of theoretically driven research explaining variation in policy outcomes at the local level . Studying local policies can be beneficial for many reasons. First, the success or failure of state or federal regulations depends on how it is operationalized and put into effect by local jurisdictions . Local practices may change an idea laid by legislators. Second, the decisions produced by local governments have a direct impact on the well being of citizens and communities. Lastly, a large number of national initiatives have grown out of local activities . For example, San Francisco was the first American city that ignored state and federal laws and decided not to prosecute “underground cannabis pharmacies”, which eventually paved the way for legalizing cannabis across the state . This research delves into the complex nature of change. I purposely do not say “legal change”, for the term oversimplifies the dynamics inherent to the transition from illegal to legal cannabis. Legalization is not a mere outcome and does not happen overnight. It is, first of all, a gradual process of social, cultural, legal, and institutional transformation, which started in California well before Proposition 64 in 2016 and may extend long into the future. Therefore, I adopt a process-oriented approach that overcomes the limitations of the outcome-based perspective, widely used in sociolegal studies, and allows us to speak about legalizing cannabis in California as a project under construction. Socio-legal scholars examine the drug problem predominantly through the lens of control, prohibition, and punishment. Drugs are viewed as a card played within the bigger political project that is the creation of the penal state. Various studies have demonstrated how drugs became both a target and a source of the war on crime, and how by associating drug use to violent crimes, the federal government made the war on drugs an integral part of American life . These analyses present a causal explanation of penal change, which contains the following key elements: the intensification of state control as a response to the public’s fears incited by the mass media. Although such theorizing is essential for understanding the drug problem, it is not sufficient. The preponderance of the “crime and punishment” framework stifles other possible research angles and reduces the perimeter of the drug problem.

Drugs are not only a criminal justice issue but also a societal problem, a medical problem, a moral problem, a market problem, and so on. Another limitation of the existing socio-legal literature on the drug problem is its outcome based and top-down orientation. The research heavily relies on causal explanations and focuses on macro-level trends, elite political actors, class conflicts, federal policies, and national mass media. At the same time, it neglects other layers of interpretation, such as local-level processes, institutional practices, and social relations. As Andrew Abbott notes, the vast majority of sociological studies aim to evaluate the causes of “what happens” but lack a reflective concept of how to temporarily conceptualize “what happens” . Instead of focusing on where we ended up, Abbott says, we should look at the walk itself. The outcome-based theorizing may be problematic since it reinforces a “normal” and “objective” view of life . By explicating the causal relationship between crime and drugs, socio-legal scholars conceptualize the drug problem in the same inadequate way as policymakers and therefore run the risk of exacerbating intolerance and prejudices . Currently, socio-legal scholarship lacks an alternative language to speak about the drug problem and continues investing in the criminal justice approach . Cannabis legalization raises interest among various social science disciplines—jurisprudence, sociology, criminology, political science—which focus on a narrow range of topics, such as the discrepancy between federal and state regulation, or the effect of legalization on crime rates, drug use, and driving under the influence. Much of this scholarship defines law in instrumental terms: legal change simply ensues from broader policy and regulatory shifts, such as the passage of the Controlled Substance Act in 1970 or Proposition 64 in 2016. However, the law is not a direct reflection of collective consciousness; neither is it the immediate result of lawyers’ work. The alternative way to study law is to look at it as a communicative practice that directs attention to the law’s power in constructing meanings, legal discourses, symbols, interpretations, and knowledge. In short, to understand the nature of the legalization process, it is necessary to employ a bottom-up perspective and move from the enactment of federal and state legislation to local political projects, from the patent outcomes to latent everyday practices, and from the direct impacts to negotiated agreements.Many intricacies of the legalization process become apparent only when we apply a processual view and focus on local political projects. What do we mean when we say that cannabis became legal in California?

From a strictly juridical point of view, it means that possession, cultivation, distribution, and sale of cannabis do not represent a criminal act anymore. Individuals who consume, grow, or sell cannabis cannot be arrested or prosecuted. From a market point of view, it means that the state oversees the operation of the legal cannabis market. Namely, it creates a legal infrastructure for market development, enforces contracts, safeguards competition, protects property rights, and provides standards. Finally, from a cultural perspective, vertical grow rack legalization means a cultural shift reflecting the broader public acceptance of cannabis. Some scholars call this process “normalization” , arguing that today, cannabis use is more tolerated, and cannabis users are less stigmatized. But how do all these processes evolve in practice? First, even though de jure cannabis is legal throughout California, de facto its status is controversial. Under the Controlled Substances Act , cannabis is classified as a Schedule I drug, along with such potent substances as heroin and LSD. Thereby, the federal government has the authority to prohibit and prosecute any use of cannabis. As separate sovereigns, the states may decide whether to cooperate with the federal government or not, but they cannot prevent the federal agencies from enforcing the law. Therefore, cannabis is legal in a state that has voted to allow it, but only to the extent the federal government chooses not to enforce the CSA . Despite several attempts to resolve the conflict between federal and state laws, cannabis is still in a legal limbo. In 2013, the Department of Justice issued a memo notifying that prosecuting local cannabis cases is not a priority. However, under the Trump administration, US Attorney General Jeff Sessions rescinded all Obama-era lenient policies towards cannabis, including the memo limiting federal prosecution of local cannabis cases.4 Currently, Congress is debating over the Marijuana Opportunity and Reinvestment and Expungement Act , which decriminalizes cannabis and completely removes it from the list of controlled substances.5 On December 4, 2020, the House of Representatives approved the ACT, but many experts are pessimistic about its passing in the Senate. Second, the continued status of marijuana as a federally prohibited substance significantly hampers the states’ capacity to implement new regulatory policies effectively and creates legal jeopardy for those in the legal cannabis market . As Sam Kamin notes, “federal prohibition acts as a brake on an industry that otherwise might grow with unhealthy pace” . Cannabis dispensaries cannot obtain banking services since financial institutions are not ready to support companies selling a product that the federal government treats as an illegal drug. They have to rely mostly on cash and thus become an easy target for robberies . Additional obstacles for legal cannabis companies are associated with high taxes, difficulties with obtaining legal aid, and unavailability of property rights protection and other business necessities . In 2018, California legal dispensaries sold fewer products than a year before, when only medical cannabis was allowed6 , a picture which many specialists associated with the persistence of illegal or semi-legal economic activities.7 Third, in the last decades, cannabis use has undergone a transition from a largely marginal activity to a more prevalent and tolerated one . California issued more than 20,000 cannabis licenses within the first two years of the legalization of recreational cannabis. The number of professional associations, networks, business-related newspapers, websites, and the variety of cannabis products is continually growing. There is a broader acceptance of cannabis in the mainstream media and among the public. According to Gallup, the support of cannabis legalization grew from 12% in 1969 to 66% in 2018.8 After the possession of less than an ounce of cannabis was reclassified as a misdemeanor9 in 2010, the number of arrests for cannabis possession has dropped considerably—from 56,000 in 2010 to 10,000 in 2011 . The evidence indicates that cultural attitudes to cannabis have changed. However, there is still a certain stigma associated with cannabis. Despite its normalization, cannabis use continues to be perceived as risky, marginal, and deviant and is often kept private to escape conflicts with family, landlords, employers, or police . The war on drugs generated various misconceptions about cannabis, which detrimentally affect the image of current cannabis users and cannabis dispensaries. For example, under Proposition 64, public and private companies have a right to ask job candidates and current employees to pass a test on cannabis to “maintain a drug and alcohol-free workplace.” If a drug test shows traces of cannabis, a person can lose a job. 10 The legal status and the meaning of specific products vary over time and space . The case of cannabis is very telling since it went through different stages of neutrality, hostility, and affirmation in the last hundred years. In the mid-19th century, cannabis was a legitimate medical substance , included in The Pharmacopeia of the United States and attributed to helping with rheumaThism, tetanus, epidemic cholera, hysteria, depression, and other illnesses. In the course of the 1930’s anti-cannabis campaign, the plant was framed as an evil drug that leads to criminality and violence. The mass media and state officials popularized the term “marijuana,” a Spanish word used by farm workers, to transform the public perception of cannabis and tie it with “dangerous” Mexican migrants. In 1937, cannabis was prohibited at the federal level and, five years later, removed from The Pharmacopeia of the United States.

The most efficient way to minimize marijuana use would be to use funds from taxes on marijuana sales to implement a marijuana prevention and control program, modeled on the successful California Tobacco Control Program , under the administration of the California Department of Public Health. The key to the success of the CTCP has been that it is a broad-based campaign focused on reinforcing the nonsmoking norm aimed at the population as a whole – not just smokers or youth, for each element of the program, including the statewide hard hitting, evidence-based media campaign. Indeed, by focusing on adults through its comprehensive tobacco control program, California has achieved one of the lowest youth smoking rates in the country. Similar to the CTCP, an effective marijuana prevention and control program would implement social norm change strategies including: 1) Countering pro-marijuana influences in the community; 2) Reducing exposure to secondhand marijuana smoke and aerosol, marijuana smoke and aerosol residue, marijuana waste, and other marijuana products ; 3) Reducing availability of marijuana and marijuana products; and 4) Promoting and supporting services that help marijuana users quit. There would be a state-level administrative office housed in the Department of Public Health with separate funding, dedicated to the primary purpose of preventing and reducing marijuana use and protecting the public from secondhand smoke exposure. Funding would be earmarked in the initiative and be protected from diversion by the Legislature or Governor. Chapter 10 If modeled on the CTCP, a marijuana prevention and control program would allocate funding to local health departments and, cannabis grow racks on a competitive basis, to community-based organizations to create marijuana prevention and control coalitions, and to coordinate efforts with schools.

The marijuana prevention and control program would mount an ongoing statewide media campaign, and would provide continuous training and technical assistance to local marijuana prevention and control programs, in large part through the competitive statewide grantees. The marijuana tax would provide an ongoing annual revenue stream to support implementation of a statewide media campaign that would consist of paid radio, television, billboard, internet and social media, and print adverThising. The media campaign would include public relations campaigns for general market and population-specific communities, including various ethnic populations, young adult, and Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender communities. The media campaign would frame the messages and inform the public on the harms of marijuana use and secondhand exposure, expose and publicize predatory marketing by the marijuana industry, and encourage quitting through a cessation helpline. The CTCP statewide campaign aimed at the general population has reduced smoking and provided billions of dollars in healthcare savings for Californians, both as individuals and as taxpayers. It is reasonable to hypothesize that a marijuana prevention and control program based on the CTCP would have similar effectiveness and financial benefits. The CTCP was most effective in its early years when it was larger, Chapter 10 and before inflation eroded its purchasing power. Based on the experience of the CTCP, an annual budget of $340 million would be adequate and would allow for mounting an effective campaign to counter the adverse public health impact of the new marijuana industry.The AUMA initiative imposes a cultivation and retail sales tax on marijuana and marijuana products. The cultivation tax will be for marijuana flower: $9.25 per dry weight ounce and for marijuana leaves: $2.75 per dry weight ounce. The retail sales tax will be an ad valorem tax of 15% of the total sale. The Board of Equalization will have the authority to adjust the tax rate for marijuana leaves annually to reflect changes in the price of marijuana flowers and will have the authority to adjust the cultivation and retail sales tax for inflation .

After money is dispersed to the regulatory agencies to cover administrative costs, the marijuana tax will be used to support youth substance abuse and prevention programs, economic development, medical marijuana research, and to research the implementation and effect of AUMA. Marijuana tax will also be dedicated to the California Highway Patrol for enforcement and to develop standards and programs, including field sobriety testing protocols, and to environmental restoration and protection . The AUMA initiative states that retail marijuana sales will “generate hundreds of millions of dollars annually”7 to cover the costs of administrating the new law and will provide funds for programs designed to educate and treat substance use disorders in youth. Most of the first money, however, is allocated to programs that prioritize marijuana businesses rather than to programs that would prevent marijuana use and reduce consumption, likely increasing the external costs associated with marijuana legalization, such as increased healthcare spending . The program that receives the most funding is the Governor’s Office of Business and Economic Development that will reach $50 million in 2023 to invest in economic development and job placement for communities affected by “past federal and state drug policies.” The initiative provides $2 million annually to the University of California, San Diego Center for Medicinal Cannabis Research to conduct research on the benefits and adverse effects of marijuana as a pharmacological agent. Other research priorities that will be conducted by universities in California are discussed below and do not prioritize funding marijuana-related disease research as a basis for future policy. The AUMA initiative provides $3 million for five years to the California Highway Patrol and law enforcement to develop standards and programs, including field sobriety testing protocols. Given the lack of accurate and reliable chemical tests to determine marijuana impairment, five years might not be sufficient to develop methods to determine marijuana impairment while driving. In Colorado, in which retail sale of marijuana became legal in 2014, regulators are still trying to determine the best way to detect marijuana impairment while driving.

While this is an important provision that should be addressed, a more effective approach would be to earmark marijuana tax revenue to a comprehensive marijuana prevention and control program aimed at the general population. Such program would have the effect of preventing marijuana initiation and heavy consumption that would be associated with increased marijuana-related traffic accidents and fatalities. Earmarked funds to support comprehensive prevention and control programs over time, which are not included in the initiative, will be critical to reduce marijuana prevalence, marijuana-related diseases, and costs arising from marijuana use. A public health framework for legalized marijuana would require that the marijuana tax be at least budget neutral, so as to cover the costs of legalizing marijuana, including marijuana prevention and education, marijuana related disease research and education, as well as the costs of managing the business aspects of the new marijuana market. The marijuana tax would also need to be high enough to cover health related costs as a result of increased marijuana use . Additional tax increases would be permitted if doing so was determined to be appropriate as a way of reducing marijuana initiation and promoting cessation, as a general revenue source, or both. While an ad valorem tax is simple to implement, cannabis drying racks there is no guarantee that it would cover the costs associated with legalizing marijuana in California. In particular, as market prices fall, the revenues generated from the marijuana tax will also fall. As evidenced by the Colorado experience, greater supply likely will drive down the price of marijuana and marijuana products in California. There is also a danger of price manipulation by the marijuana industry. In Colorado, price manipulation has been an issue, in which retailers are increasingly lowering prices to compete with other marijuana retail outlets. The existence of an illicit untaxed market complicates tax policy making due to concerns that if the marijuana tax is too high it would drive consumers to the illicit market. A comprehensive demand reduction program would probably reduce this problem. If marijuana-related costs follow the same trajectory as tobacco, then it is likely that the tax will not generate enough revenue to cover administrative costs and healthcare costs to California taxpayers. While the costs of treating marijuana-induced illness is unknown, in 2009, the healthcare costs of smoking in California was $18.1 billion, 156 an amount that would have been much higher without California’s comprehensive tobacco control program. For an ad valorem tax to be large enough to cover total costs, it would need to be increased as costs go up, which, if marijuana use increases, are likely to grow faster than inflation. The fiscal impact estimate reports of the California Legislative Analyst’s Office of the two initiatives do not include the economic impact of a retail marijuana market on increasing health care costs for California government or the state as a whole. The AUMA initiative is strong in that it will prohibit marijuana use wherever smoking or e-cigarette use is prohibited by state or local laws, and grants authority to local governments to adopt smoke free laws stronger than the state. Because the 1995 California statewide smoke free law contained exemptions, marijuana use will be permitted in 65% of hotel/motel guestrooms, banquet facilities and meeting rooms, small businesses , designated break rooms, private smoker lounges, warehouses, taxis, long-term health care facilities, and in multi-unit housing, unless these venues are covered under local laws stronger than the state law.

The AUMA initiative also creates a problematic loophole that will allow local governments to permit marijuana use in licensed facilities that admit only adults 21 years and older, are not visible to the public, and do not sell tobacco or alcohol. It will also permit smoking in private residences in the 1,000-foot buffer zone “only if such smoking is not detectable by others,” which is an unenforceable measure. They also have the beneficial side effect of decreasing the normalization of tobacco use, and supporting smoking cessation. To accomplish these goals for legalized marijuana, a public health framework would prohibit consumption anywhere combustible tobacco product consumption is prohibited under local and state smoke free laws. Local governments would not be preempted from adopting stronger regulations than the state, and local and state smoke free laws would not contain exemptions for indoor use in hospitality venues, marijuana retail stores, and marijuana clubs. Both initiatives grant local governments authority to permit marijuana smoking inside marijuana retail stores or marijuana clubs. This provision ignores an important lesson from tobacco control that smoke free bars are particularly effective at protecting workers from secondhand smoke exposure and at denormalizing smoking. For example, employees working in bars and nightclubs with higher ambient nicotine concentrations have higher levels of nicotine exposure regardless of own smoking status. If local governments implement laws that would permit marijuana smoking inside marijuana stores or clubs, it will likely negatively impact the working class poor, immigrants, and individuals from communities of color, and will contribute to health disparities. Lower socioeconomic status individuals are more likely to work in establishments that do not have 100% smoke free coverage or circumvent the law through exemptions . In California, for example, exemptions in the statewide smoke free law disproportionately expose low income workers, Latinos, and young adults to secondhand tobacco smoke in the workplace, thereby contributing to health disparities. In addition, women may be disproportionately impacted by permitting marijuana smoking in hospitality venues because women are over represented in the hospitality industry. This potential loophole also ignores the fact that exemptions in smoke free laws are difficult to amend once the law has been passed. For example, over the last twenty years, the State of California has failed to close important loopholes in the state smoke free law despite attempts from legislators. This situation highlights the importance of enacting effective measures initially to prevent unnecessary secondhand exposure to the public. In addition, these exemptions will likely promote consumption and other risky behavior, such as driving while under the influence of marijuana. While allowing for such on-site consumption at marijuana businesses or clubs is based on the view that it will allow for adults to use marijuana in a responsible way, such social use away from home not only creates a risk of increasing overall use but also facilitates marijuana consumption prior to driving home while still under its influence. The reality is that similar to bars failing to promote socially responsible alcohol consumption, marijuana retailers with the financial incentive to promote over consumption will replicate this behavior with marijuana.

We recently demonstrated that vapor inhalation of THC using an e-cigarette based approach produces anti-nociceptive effects and reduces the body temperature and spontaneous activity of male and female rats . These are canonical effects that are observed after injection or oral delivery of THC in laboratory vertebrates including in rats , mice , monkeys and dogs , although the individual behavioral or physiological outcomes may be observed after different doses. Behavioral and physiological effects, and plasma THC levels, of THC delivered by vapor inhalation depend on the exposure duration as well as the dose administered. We have shown that dose can be controlled during inhalation exposure by varying either the concentration of THC in the e-liquid vehicle or the duration of exposure at a fixed concentration . This validated platform is therefore ideal to test the hypothesis that aerosol THC exposure of lobsters has physiological effect. Development of different animal model species, including invertebrates, for the evaluation of drug effects can offer both unique and converging advantages, as recently reviewed by Smith . The lobster is an established model for evaluating neuronal morphology, central pattern generation and synaptic mechanisms in the stomato-gastric ganglion . More practically, the lobster can be studied within institutions that are not equipped to oversee vertebrate animal research, or can be studied at reduced expense in institutions where vertebrate research is supported. A recent review indicates there are no clear data on lobster nociception and decapod crustacean investigations of nociception do not typically involve thermal stimuli ; only one available report shows that crayfish are sensitive to a thermal stimulus delivered by soldering iron .Thus it serves the additional goal of determining if thermal nociception exists in this crustacean species which would add to the evidence for thermoception in decapod crustaceans more generally. There is very limited evidence on whether the lobster would be behaviorally sensitive to THC exposure, however, pipp mobile systems the neuromuscular junction of lobsters appears to be regulated, in part, by cannabinoid mechanisms.

Turkanis and Karler showed that THC had doserelated effects on excitatory neuromuscular junction potential amplitudes, increasing them at moderate concentrations and decreasing amplitude at higher concentrations . This enhances confidence that some cannabinoid-sensitive mechanisms are present in the lobster and that THC might affect locomotor behavior, despite the fact there may not be a homolog or ortholog of the vertebrate endocannabinoid receptor expressed in the lobster . The invertebrate C. elegans expresses a cannabinoid-like ortholog receptor which mediates effects of the endogenous cannabinoid agonists 2-arachidonoylglycerol and anandamide , suggesting that there may be as yet un-identified ortholog receptors in the lobster. It is also possible that THC acts in the lobster via transient receptor potential channels, since THC appears to function as a ligand at TRPV2, TRPV3, TRPV4, TRPA1, and TRPV8, as reviewed . The Caribbean spiny lobster expresses 17 TRP including TRPA and TRPV homologs . Hypolocomotion is a canonical sign of cannabinoid action in rats and mice , and occurs after vapor inhalation of THC . Thus, locomotor activity was selected to assay for evidence of in vivo behavioral effect. Less directly, recent studies in the crayfish, a related aquatic crustacean, have shown locomotor effects of cocaine, morphine and methamphetamine and intravenous self-administration of amphetamine . This further enhances confidence that behavioral pharmacological effects of recreational drugs can be effectively assessed in the lobster. Traditional cooking of lobster is by immersion of live animals in either boiling water or steam, leading to concerns by some that the animal might experience pain. Indeed, live cooking has been banned in Switzerland . There is no available evidence demonstrating clearly that lobsters are sensitive to temperature, however one paper has shown that crayfish respond to a hot metal rod stimulus applied to the claw .

Since TRPA1 homolog receptors in invertebrates are activated by high temperature, e.g., at about 48 °C in one study and over 43 °C in other work , these mechanisms may be the primary thermoreceptor. It is thus of interest to develop assays to determine if lobsters exhibit thermal nociceptive behavioral responses and then to determine if those responses can be altered by THC exposure. The hot-water tail withdrawal assay in rats involves a reflexive tail movement when it is inserted in hot water and has been shown to be altered in rats after vapor inhalation of THC . Thus, one goal was to determine if warm water immersion produces a behavioral response in the lobster and if so, if THC exposure decreased thermal nociception as it does in rodents . As part of a model development, it was important to determine if different responses could be obtained from tail, claw or antenna immersion and if the response depended on the temperature of the water bath, as in . Wild caught female and male Maine lobster were obtained from a local supermarket. When housed longer than several hours in the laboratory, the animals were maintained in chilled , aerated aquariums and fed variously with frozen krill, fish flakes and anacharis. The tissue distribution studies were conducted under protocols approved by the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee of The Scripps Research Institute due to a decision that a protocol was required for this invertebrate species. The remaining studies were conducted at the University of California, San Diego where the institution does not require protocol supervision/approval for this invertebrate species. Sealed exposure chambers were modified from the 259 mm × 234 mm × 209 mm Allentown, Inc. rat cage to regulate airflow and the delivery of vaporized drug to the chamber using e-cigarette cartridges as has been previously described . The controllers were triggered to deliver the scheduled series of puffs by a computerized controller designed by the equipment manufacturer . The chamber air was vacuum controlled by a chamber exhaust valve to flow room ambient air through an intake valve at ~1 L per minute. This also functioned to ensure that vapor entered the chamber on each device triggering event. The vapor stream was integrated with the ambient air stream once triggered. The chambers were empty of any water or bedding material for these exposures .For these studies, animals were obtained, dosed and euthanized for tissue collection within 4–6 h.

Lobsters were exposed to THC vapor for 30 or 60 minutes, then removed from the chamber and rinsed with tap water. Thereafter, they were rapidly euthanized by transection of the thoracic nerve cord using heavy kitchen shears and then transection of the thorax behind the brain by a heavy chef’s knife. Samples included the gills , claw muscle obtained from proximal and distal aspects, anterior and posterior segments of tail muscle, a red membrane surrounding the claw muscle , brain, heart, liver and hemolymph. Hemolymph was allowed to coagulate to facilitate analysis as ng of THC per mg of tissue, as with the other tissues. For N = 2 per exposure-duration group, one claw was cooked immediately after euthanasia by boiling it in water for 10 min, prior to collection of muscle tissue and the red membrane that surrounds it. Tissues were frozen for storage until analysis was conducted. Tissue THC content was quantified using liquid chromatography/mass spectrometry adapted from methods describe previously . THC was extracted from brain tissue by homogenization in chloroform/ACN containing 100ng/mL of THC-d3 as internal standard followed by centrifugation, decanting of the lower supernatant phase, evaporation and reconstitution in acetonitrile for analysis. Specifically, ~200–300 mg of tissue was homogenized in 1.5 mL of chloroform, 0.500 mL of acetonitrile and 0.100 mL of deuterated internal standard . Samples were centrifuged at 3000 RPM for 10 min, followed by decanting of the lower supernatant phase, evaporation using a SpeedVac, and reconstitution in 200 μL of an acetonitrile/methanol/water mixture. Separation was performed on an Agilent LC1100 using a gradient elution of water and methanol at 300 μL/min on an Eclipse XDB-C18 column . THC was quantified using an Agilent MSD6180 single quadrupole with electrospray ionization and selected ion monitoring [THC and THC-d3 ]. Calibration curves were generated each day at a concentration range of 0–200 ng/mL with observed correlation coefficients of 0.9990. For these studies, industrial drying rack animals were maintained in the laboratory for 4–21 days in chilled aquariums. Salt-water baths for the nociception assay were maintained at the target temperature and confirmed by thermometer immediately prior to each test. The investigator held the animal gently by the thorax and the tail or the tip of the antenna was inserted approximately 3 cm; the claws were inserted to a depth of approximately 5 cm. The latency to respond was recorded by stopwatch and a maximum 15 s interval was used as a cutoff for the assay. Homarus genus lobsters exhibit asymmetry of their claws with one larger and one smaller claw that can be on either the left or the right; feral experience appears to be necessary for proper development of the claw asymmetry as it is less pronounced in cultivated lobsters . This asymmetry produces a crusher muscle that is constituted of 100% slow fibers, whereas the cutter muscle exhibits only 90% fast fibers as assessed by ATPase staining and fast and slow motoneuron innervation . Thus, for this study the cutter and crusher claws were assessed independently. The order of assessment was always tail, claw, claw then antenna. The body part was inserted in the ambient water bath for 5–10 s after each warm water assessment.

The temperatures for assessment were “ambient”, and then three warm temperatures ; the order of testing of the warmer temperatures was in a counterbalanced order with at least two hours between assessments and no more than two tests per day. Lobsters were next assessed for the reaction of tail, crusher and cutter claws, and the antenna to insertion in 48 °C water after vapor exposure to PG or THC for 30 or 60 min, with the testing order counterbalanced. Distinct responses of tail, antenna and claw were observed following insertion in warm water but not in the ambient temperature water bath . Sometimes, a reflexive and powerful contraction of the tail muscle was observed first . This appeared to be the caridoid escape response best described in crayfish, but likely present in the lobster , which is a complex behavior mediated by lateral giant and medial giant interneurons . In other cases, the lobster initiated distinct movements of legs and claws, this often preceded the powerful tail contraction. Thus, the tail assay was scored with two latency values, the very first reaction of any type and the tail contraction if it occurred. For analysis, the time of first overt response was used. The post-hoc test failed to confirm any significant difference associated with Vapor Condition for any individual body part. The primary finding of this study was that vapor exposure of Maine lobsters to Δ9-tetrahydrocannabinol , using an e-cigarette based system, produces tissue levels of THC in a dose dependent manner. THC was confirmed in the hemolymph , claw and tail muscle, brain, heart and liver . This wide distribution across body tissues is consistent with respiratory uptake, i.e., via the gills with distribution by the hemolymph circulation of the lobster. This conclusion is further supported by the much higher amount of THC that was associated with the gill tissue, consistent with a limited uptake by the respiration system of the lobster. The THC exposure also had behavioral consequences, since locomotor activity was significantly reduced after exposure to THC vapor compared with exposure to the vehicle vapor . Hypolocomotion is a canonical feature of THC exposure in rats and mice, at least at higher doses, thereby confirming a similarity of effect across the vertebrate and invertebrate organisms in which this has been evaluated. Thus, the assertions of the restaurateur that cannabinoids could be introduced into the lobster by atmospheric exposure , and that this would be in sufficient amount to induce behavioral effect, is supported. The impact of THC on thermal nociception was, however, minimal. The locomotor effects may be specifically related to a report of THC altering the amplitude of excitatory potentials at the lobster neuromuscular junction in a concentration dependent manner . Overall, however, it confirms that the levels of THC achieved by as little as 30 min of vapor exposure were behaviorally significant.

Unemployment rates from 2005- 2014 will be used in order to compare it to our MMIC data. Referring again to Table 4.1, we observe a mean unemployment rate of 9.8. All data sets contain 560 total observations from the 56 counties used within the 10-year period. The mortality rates are divided into three categories: Alcohol-Induced Causes, Drug-Induced Causes, and All Other Causes. These rates are given per 100,000, as shown in 7.1.3 of the Appendix. Estimated population sizes per year are also included in the data set. Like the MMIC data, the crude rates are reported per county, per year from 2005-2014. Within this time period, these crude rates have ranged from 4.9 to 1328.6 per 100,000. Referring above to Table 4.1, the mean alcohol-induced, drug-induced, and other crude rates are 13.5, 15.8, and 759.4, respectively. In addition to the mortality data, arrest rates will be examined to determine if medical marijuana is a substitute for other drugs and alcohol. The arrest data comes from the State of California Department of Justice’s Criminal Justice Statistics Center and includes 76 arrest variables. Of these 76 variables, I will be using 7 of them in my data analysis. These variables include marijuana, drunk, felony drug offenses, narcotics, dangerous drugs, other drugs, and total arrests. Other drugs represent all misdemeanor drug arrests excluding marijuana. However, the marijuana variable used in our data is the sum of both misdemeanor and felony marijuana arrests. As stated by the CJSC, “A felony offense is defined as a crime which is punishable by death or by imprisonment in a state prison. A misdemeanor offense is a crime punishable by imprisonment in a county jail for up to one year.” 13 Full variable definitions are given in Table 7.2.1 in the Appendix. All variables in the data set were given as number of arrests per county, per year again from 2005-2014. As presented in part 7.1.2 of the Appendix, I converted these numbers into arrests per 100,000 so the analysis of all variables could be more easily interpreted. The CJSC has also provided crime data from 2005-2014 to be used in the regressions. Not to be confused with arrest data, pipp grow rack the crime data set contains all individuals convicted of a crime, whereas arrests occur when a person is simply taken into custody for a crime.

The crime data presented by the CJSC offers 66 variables, from which I selected the 10 main types of crime, including, violent crime, burglary, larceny/theft, property crime, aggravated assault, motor vehicle theft, robbery, forcible rape, homicide, and total crime. Property crime is the sum of burglaries, larceny/thefts, and motor-vehicle thefts and violent crime is the sum of forcible rapes, homicides, and robberies. For full definitions of crime variables, refer to Table 7.2.2 in the Appendix. The crime data set originally included city and county distinction, but I collapsed the data into strictly per county observations. Computed the same as the MMIC, crude, and arrest rates, the third calculation shown in 7.1.3 of the Appendix was used to convert the numbers into crimes per 100,000 people. Table 4.2 below offers summarized statistics of all data collected from the CJSC.To begin analyzing the effect of medical marijuana in California, all nine individual crime rates and total crime rates were regressed on MMIC rates and unemployment rates with county and year fixed effects. It is necessary to include county fixed effects in the model because there are unobservable factors that could affect crime rates. For example, high-income counties in California may have lower crime rates by being able to afford tighter security. It is also obligatory to include year fixed effects in the crime rates model. This type of fixed effect absorbs any event or time trend that could potentially adjust crime rates. Because the data ranges from 2005- 2014, the housing market crash could have affected crime rates. Referring to Graph 5.1, it is indicated that crime rates don’t necessarily have a linear time trend. Thus, the individual year dummy variables will be the best fit to combat the unobservable events that occur across time. Here we see that for every additional medical marijuana card issued, total crime decreases by one and a half crimes.

This appears to be a significantly large effect. However, looking at the average MMIC rate of 53 and the average total crime rate of 6,210, it is unlikely that medical marijuana could completely eradicate crime. The estimated results imply that if the mean of MMICs goes up to 54, crime rates will fall to an average of 6,208.5. This is only a decrease of 0.024% of total crime, which is a small, yet reasonable estimate. While this is a small effect on total crime, the 95% confidence level suggests the true estimate is between -2.46 and -0.55. Because these values are negative, it is acceptable to assume medical marijuana will not negatively impact society by increasing crime rates. After observing that medical marijuana has a negative effect on total crime, it can also be seen that medical marijuana also has negative effects on larceny-theft and property crime, with estimates shown in tables 5.4 and 5.5. Table 5.4 indicates that for every additional MMIC issued, larceny/theft declines by about half of a crime, while Table 5.5 suggests that for every additional MMIC issued, property crime decreases by ¾ a crime. Because property crime is defined as the sum of larceny/thefts, burglaries, and motor-vehicle thefts, the effect on larceny/theft is contained within the effect on overall property crime. Many individuals who argue against the legalization of marijuana claim that marijuana usage would increase crime, thereby negatively impacting society. By building a 95% confidence interval it is shown that the true estimates are negative and that 95% of the time, the estimate will fall between -1.18 and -0.33. Thus, medical marijuana will not increase overall property crimes, specifically larceny/thefts. This answers the common argument that marijuana use increases crime rates.The other seven crime variables regressed on MMIC, using Equation 5.2, showed no significant effects of medical marijuana on crime. However, vehicle theft showed a statistically significant negative effect at the 90% confidence level. This can be explained by the above regression results on property crime, given that vehicle theft is included in the overall property crime rates by definition. All other crimes displayed zero effect from medical marijuana. While we can comfortably say that medical marijuana does not increase crime rates, there needs to be an explanation for why it has a significantly negative effect on both total crime and property crime. One explanation is that allowing consumers to purchase legally decreases the amount of associated crime that comes with the illegal marijuana market. It is often true that individuals who enact in criminal activity participate in more than one crime. This means when individuals are purchasing marijuana illegally, they are more likely to commit other crimes. Thus, when additional MMICs are issued, individuals are purchasing marijuana legally and are less likely to be crime participants. This effect can be seen in the above regression results where additional MMICs lead to a slight fall in committed crimes. A second explanation could be that there are substitution effects for marijuana and other drugs and alcohol. With evidence of marijuana reducing violent behavior, as explained further below, individuals are less likely to commit crimes. Because many crimes are committed while drunk or intoxicated, an increase in marijuana use with significant substitution effects on other drugs or alcohol could lead to a slight decrease in crime.This brings us to the next two models, created to observe whether or not marijuana is a substitution drug for alcohol and/or other drugs. Equation 5.6 regresses every individual arrest rate on MMICs and unemployment rates, while Equation 5.7 regresses drug-induced, alcohol-induced, and all other mortality rates on MMICs and unemployment rates.

These two equations will allow us to examine any substitution effects going on between marijuana and other drugs and alcohol. Both equations are again controlled for county and time fixed effects.This means that 99.9% of the time medical marijuana has a negative effect on drunken arrests. While this indicates that there may be a substitution effect for alcohol, pipp horticulture racks cost it is a small effect with a 1:4 substitution ratio. For this effect to decrease drunken arrest rates by 1%, MMICs would have to increase by about 20 per 100,00. This could be a possible scenario, given that the standard deviation of MMICs is 95.34. In the likelihood of this event, medical marijuana could be a significant substitute for alcohol. As briefly mentioned earlier in this analysis, a substitution effect between marijuana and alcohol can justify why we see a decrease in crime. It has been observed by many studies that a large proportion of crimes are committed when an individual is intoxicated. According to the Huffington Post, the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism “found that 25-30% of violent crimes are linked to alcohol use,” and the journal of Addictive Behaviors performed a study that suggested “cannabis reduces likelihood of violence during intoxication,” thus explaining why an increase in marijuana use can decrease crime rates.14 By finding a slight substitution effect between marijuana and alcohol, we are able to explain some of the negative effect that marijuana has on crime. After regressing all other arrest rates, drunken arrests remains the only significant category affected by MMICs. So with the given data, there is no evidence that marijuana is a substitute for dangerous drugs, other drugs, felony drugs, nor narcotics. It is particularly surprising that we see no effect on narcotics, considering most medical marijuana patients specifically use cannabis as a substitute for narcotics. An explanation for this can be that some medical marijuana users do not use for medical reasons many of the MMIC holders in this particular data base may only use for recreational purposes. To observe any further substitution effects, I used Equation 5.7 to regress alcohol induced crude rates, drug-induced crude rates, and all other crude rates on MMICs and unemployment still controlling for county and year fixed effects. Unlike the arrest rate data, no substitution effects were found. Referring to the regression output in Table 5.9 for alcohol-induced deaths, MMICs actually had a statistically significant positive effect on alcohol related deaths. The interpretation is that for every new medical marijuana user, the alcohol crude rate increases by 0.0068 deaths per 100,000. However, observing that zero is in the confidence interval and that the t-statistic is borderline significant, it is likely that there is no effect at all. While this is still a positive number, its suggested effect is so small, it becomes negligible. This can be determined by looking at the average crude rate for alcohol related deaths, which is 15.8. There would have to be an additional 147 MMICs per 100,000 to increase this crude rate by 1 death per 100,000. This is a highly unlikely scenario, and could therefore be dismissed. By applying this same model to drug-related deaths, we again get a statistically significant positive effect on the crude rate, shown in Table 5.10. While this would typically suggest that marijuana is a complement drug to other drugs, the effect is again, miniscule. With the average drug-induced crude rate of 13.4 deaths per 100,000, the number of medical marijuana cardholders would have to increase by 142 to cause 1 drug-related death. Similar to the effect on alcohol-induced mortality rates, this is a very unlikely event, and can be disregarded. While the drug and alcohol related deaths were affected slightly by medical marijuana, all other crude rates did not. There was no statistically significant effect when applying Equation 5.7 to all other crude rates. After implementing all regressions, there is evidence to suggest that medical marijuana has a negative effect on crime rates, decreasing total crime by 1.5 per 100,000 for every additional MMIC issued. It is also found that medical marijuana has a significantly negative effect on both property crime and larceny/theft rates. While medical marijuana could not completely alleviate crime all together because of the significantly higher crime rate average, there is no evidence that marijuana use would increase crime; thereby disproving the common argument that implementing marijuana legislation will increase crime rates.

This results in fewer farms, producing more and more product, until the next technology comes along to perpetuate the cycle, hence the idea of the ‘treadmill.’The following is a summary of trends and themes documented in the literature about dairy production in the United States and Global North. Past and current geography research on dairy depicts an industry in flux, under the influence of capitalism, policy, and the environmental contexts of the region at hand. Here , I define and describe the six themes of transformation occurring in the dairy industry, and a seventh theme, the alternatives that have arisen in reaction to these dominant transformations.Intensification is a major buzzword in the world of agriculture, but it has varied definitions and applications. Fundamentally, intensification implies a change or transformation of the mode of production. In the original sense of the term, intensification is an increasing ratio between inputs and outputs; the variation in meaning exists in the consideration of different typesof inputs. While agricultural economists look at increasing production relative to inputs of feed, fertilizer or water, geographers consider land and capital to be inputs capable of intensification and use the term intensification to describe all manner of increased productivity or large-scale agricultural systems. Clay et al. define intensification in dairy as the increased milk output relative to inputs of feed, labor, land, or herd size, while Bojovic and McGregor describe the intensification of capital, land, and animals within the industry. The term is used to convey negative or increased impacts on the environment, because of the increased use of resources or pollution. The concept of “sustainable intensification” is commonly found in recent literature on agriculture, flood and drain hydroponics which is defined as increasing food production while minimizing the effects of production on the environment and not expanding the area of land used for agriculture .

The use of technological innovations in agriculture, as described in the background section, has been a key transformation to enable intensification and allow for capital penetration. Many of these technological innovations come in the form of machines, or practices that require the use of machines, like concentrated animal feeding operations , automated milking machines, or anaerobic digesters. The technological fix is a concept in agriculture and technology studies that describes the act of inventing a new technology to solve every new problem, which is often criticized for creating new problems of their own, and perpetuating systems that should be abandoned . Dairy technologies that may be subject to this line of criticism are anaerobic digesters or the recent research to use CRISPR to genetically modify the methane producing microbes in the cows’ stomachs . Mechanization contributes to enlargement and specialization in dairies by reducing the space or labor needed to feed and milk cows, as is the case with CAFOs or automated milking machines, and by encouraging investment and specialization in that specific stage of production.One of the hallmarks of change in industrial dairy production is the enlargement of herd sizes. The average number of cows per farm is increasing in the U.S., and dairy production increasingly comes from large farms, measured by farm income . Willis documents the dramatic enlargement of diaries that occurred in New Zealand between 1971 and 2001, where the number of cows increased 51%, the average herd size increased 128%. Enlargement is type of intensification – in which the input is the number of farms and the output is the herd size or amount of milk produced per farm. Enlargement both requires and allows for specialization and mechanization to occur by making the investment in technology and machines more affordable, thus encouraging more expansion thereafter.Specialization is the focus on fewer commodities or stages of production within each farm. In the case of dairy, operations specialize to only produce milk, purchasing their cows and feed from other sources, and selling milk to a processor. This involves enlarging herd sizes and investing in equipment that increases efficiency of milk production .

Specialization is related to horizontal integration, in which operations expand their production of milk by increasing their herd size or acreage. The opposite model is vertical integration, in which a single farm may breed, raise, milk, and slaughter their own cows, grow their own feed,manage their own pasture, or process their own milk, cheese, or butter. The process of specialization is stretching these stages of production across multiple operations, meaning that the raising, feed production, milk production and dairy processing each happens in a different location. As milk production, mechanization, herd sizes, and specialization all increase, the industry is consolidating. The number of dairy farms has been rapidly declining everywhere in the United States. Consolidation is happening across all agriculture in the US but especially so in dairy. As MacDonald et al. report, “the pace of farm consolidation appears to have slowed after 2007. In livestock, only dairy shows continued rapid consolidation” . Consolidation has not occurred evenly across the livestock sector; dairy, chickens, turkeys, and hogs are highly consolidated, while beef and cattle operations are not, suggesting that consolidation has more to do with the confinement style of raising livestock or the frequent milkings required on a dairy farm, than the species of animal itself. This consolidation may be due to smaller farms going out of business, merging with larger farms, or moving to other regions. Gould documents consolidation in dairy farms, co-operatives and processing facilities and argues that this high level of consolidation differentiates dairy from other agricultural sub-sectors. Cross characterizes the restructuring of dairies as a shift toward megadairies in California, away from the traditional dairy belt in the Midwest and Northeast. He also points out that Amish farmers are the ones who continue to run dairy farms at a small scale, speaking to the technology-driven industrialization of large-scale farms. The final trend observed in the literature about dairy is the discussion of regional shifts in where dairy is produced. The specialization of dairy production led to the creation of identifiable dairy regions in the United States, which have historically been in the Northeast and Midwest, also known as the ‘dairy belt’ . Scholars observe the trend of regional shifts in production both within the United States and on a global scale. Cross describes the shift from the traditional dairy belt in the Midwest and Northeast states out west to California and Idaho.

Harrington et al. describe the movement of large dairies into the plains of Southwestern Kansas. Gould names the expansion of dairies in Texas, Idaho, and New Mexico as concurrent with the reduction of dairies in traditional dairy states, such as Vermont, where organic dairy farmers resist pressures to expand or sell . Dairy production on a global scale is also expanding into the Global South as Western diets and higher rates of milk consumption are adopted in East Asian and African countries . All these observations of the regional shifts of milk production are described alongside processes of consolidation, specialization, enlargement, indoor vertical farming mechanization, and intensification. Finally, although the topic is beyond the scope of my research, the many alternatives to the structural transformations that are observed in dairy literatures in the United States and beyond must be addressed. Alternative production trends include sustainable intensification, multi-functionality or vertical integration, and agroecology , as well as regenerative and organic dairy production and increasing disruption from the rise of plant-based non-dairy milks . These all come in reaction to the negative environmental, human, and animal impacts of intensive dairy production and fall under the “better milk” or “less milk” narratives for the future trajectories of milk . In California, Marin and Sonoma Counties are the region with the strongest collective effort to produce milk alternatively to the industrial model of the rest of the state . In summary, dairy industries in the United States and Global North have undergone, and continue to experience, significant transformation. Six dominant themes of transformation discussed in the literature are intensification, mechanization or technological innovation, enlargement, specialization, consolidation, and regional shifts. Evidence of these transformations are seen in the trends of milk production and number of operations derived from the following methodology and analysis. To understand the changing geography of the dairy industry in the California, I used data from the USDA Census of Agriculture and California Crop Reports to map changes over time in milk production and number of dairy operations across California’s 58 counties. Previous work on dairy in California has typically focused on policy, natural resources, environmental footprints, and other factors related to milk production for the state as a whole , though some work has been attentive to regional differences in production and the typology of production systems found within the state . In 1896, Wickson wrote a report for the USDA titled “Dairying in California” which included a hand-drawn map of the dairying areas of California . So far, there has been no study of regional changes in dairy production over time in California. By mapping data at the county level, this research reveals spatial patterns and regional variations in California’s dairy industry obscured by typical state-level summaries of milk production.The United States Department of Agriculture National Agricultural Statistics Service publishes annual crop reports from the California County Agricultural Commissioners. These reports compile the total production, acres, yields, prices per unit and value of many agricultural commodities from each county in California.

The data are available for every year from 1980 to 2020 for download from the USDA NASS website under the California County Ag Commissioners’ Data Listing . The most recent year’s report was partially incomplete at the time of this study. Some counties were absent from the data and had to be interpolated using the average of the years before and after each missing year. Data collection and reporting is the responsibility of each individual county, and not standardized in either definitions, data collection, or reporting, so the way values are measured or aggregated may have differences across different counties and years. It is not possible to readily know the differences in method or definition. The crop reports also do not disclose any information about farm sizes or the number of farms, so production values are the sum of all operations’ production at the county level, and prices are the average price. This obscures any nuance between different operations, but for a state-wide analysis like this one, these crop reports offer the best available data on agricultural production by county on an annual basis. The Census of Agriculture is the only source of uniform and comprehensive data about agricultural producers, acreage, activities, and sales in the United States. In recent decades conducted by the USDA, the Census of Agriculture is a national survey of all agricultural activities, operations, and producers, conducted every five years that attempts to collect information from every relevant farm operation. The most recent agricultural census, for 2022, was still being conducted at the time of this study, therefore 2017 was the most recent year available. The Census Bureau began collecting data on household agricultural activity in 1820 as part of the national decennial census. From 1840 to 1950, a separate census of agriculture was collected the same year as the national census, until it was switched to a five-year interval in years ending in 4 and 9, and then again in 1982 to years ending in ‘2 and ‘7. In 1997, funding responsibility shifted to the USDA, but questionnaires and mailing are still carried out by the Census Bureau. The census captures dairy in a few ways, including Milk – Operations with Sales, Milk – Sales in US Dollars, and Milk Cows Inventory, but it does not have a definitive count of active dairies. Operations with milk sales may differ from operations with milk cows in a given census year if the operation is going out of business and still has milk to sell but no longer has cows on site. Farms may also have a family milk cow, or a cow as part of a child’s 4-H project. In these cases, the farm may have other activities but not be engaged in milk sales and therefore not be considered an active commercial dairy farm. For the purposes of this study, I chose to use operations with milk sales to capture most of the active dairies from each year.

Trial interventionists were 2 veterans of the armed forces with some prior exposure to counseling, hereafter referred to as “veteran peers.” Of note, in this study, veteran peers were different from VA-employed Veteran Peer Specialists, who are also considered peers, not only because of their prior military service, but also because they are in MH recovery themselves. Veteran peers for this study were trained by psychologists at their respective study sites to use MI techniques, such as open-ended questions, affirmations, reflections, and summary statements, as well as key MI principles, such as expressing empathy and rolling with resistance with the goal of having veteran peers conduct MI-informed coaching rather than formal MI. Veteran peers were encouraged to relate to study participants as veteran peers and potentially disclose more personal information than is typical when using manualized MI. Psychologist supervisors also trained the veteran peers in how to address potential suicidal and homicidal ideation and race/ethnic and sexual orientation and identity issues. During the trial, with participant consent, motivational coaching sessions were audio recorded for fidelity monitoring . Psychologist supervisors reviewed the audio-recordings and provided feedback to veteran peers at weekly group supervision meetings. For participants assigned to the intervention arm, veteran peers started by providing participants feedback on each of their baseline MH screens and used MI-informed, open-ended questions to elicit participants’ reactions to their MH screen results. For example, a veteran peer coach would inform a veteran participant of their PHQ-9 score and explain the meaning of a positive score for depression as either mild, moderate, or severe, flood drain tray asking veterans to share their thoughts or feelings on hearing this information, using psychoeducation and normalizing data as appropriate.

Veteran peers then explored participants’ readiness for MH treatment, reminded veterans that they themselves were not licensed practitioners and, based on their location and preferences, asked permission to provide a customized list of MH treatment and self-care options. Subsequently, participants received up to 3 additional 20- to 30-min motivational coaching calls at 2, 4, and 8 weeks to encourage MH treatment initiation using MI principles as described above. For example, a veteran peer coach attempting to elicit change talk and motivation for MH treatment might use the Readiness Ruler to ask a participant how ready they were to receive MH treatment and would reflect back to them, “You gave yourself a 4 out of 10, why not a lower number? What would need to happen to move you up one or two numbers?” Because veteran peers were trained in coaching in addition to MI, they might add additional coaching language, such as: “If you decided to start receiving outside help, what kind of help do you think would work the best for you?” and, “If we take a step back and think about the big picture, what really matters in your life?” During the 8-week motivational coaching intervention, if a participant scheduled or engaged in clinician-directed MH treatment , the peer-delivered coaching intervention shifted to treatment retention. Treatment retention calls consisted of 20- to 30-min calls at 2 and 6 weeks after MH treatment initiation. During retention calls, veteran peers focused on eliciting the benefits of sustained MH treatment engagement, that is, “Now that you are receiving outside help, how do you see your life getting better?”VA and non-VA community MH services in Northern California and Louisiana were identified and vetted to create a comprehensive annotated list of MH treatment referrals for veterans. As described above, MH treatment referrals were provided to veterans with positive MH screens in both study arms following the baseline assessment and were grouped as follows: clinician-directed MH treatment either within VA or in the community reimbursed by VA, or through a non-VA community MH facility; non-clinician-directed MH care either through VA or in the community ; and self care .

For participants in both arms, veteran peers provided contact information for referrals by phone and letter but did not schedule referrals for veterans.All primary and secondary study outcomes were assessed by blinded research staff at 8 and 16 weeks using the same battery of items administered at baseline and only MH treatment engagement was assessed at 32 weeks. The primary outcome was initiation of clinician-directed MH treatment, and among participants who initiated treatment, retention in MH treatment for ≥ 2 visit, as determined by self-report, VA administrative data, or both . Any new VA or non-VA MH appointment during follow-up between participants’ baseline assessment to 60 days after the final 32-week time point was counted as MH treatment engagement. An MH treatment experiences self-report questionnaire was used to identify categories of clinician-directed VA or non-VA MH treatment. Only MH treatment encounters at VA or in non-VA community settings reimbursed by VA are included in VA administrative data. Secondary outcomes included: non-clinician-directed MH care at VA or in the community and engagement in self-care activities , defined as activities that reduce stress and promote well-being, which can be particularly important for rural veterans and influenced by location. Other secondary outcomes included MH symptoms and quality of life domains .At baseline , following randomization, the 135 controls and 137 telephone motivational coaching participants did not differ in terms of sociodemographics. Overall, the majority was male and middle-aged . Although most participants were White, racial minorities were over represented compared to the US population. The majority earned < $50,000/year; 72% had a military service-connected disability ; 14%- 26% enrolled in VA health care had used private insurance or Medicaid/Medicare within the past 6 months; and the majority received care at rural VA health care facilities. As shown in Table 2, the 2 groups also did not differ at baseline in terms of quality of life measures, MH symptoms , as well as most substance use scores .

Overall, most participants screened positive for MH symptoms, including depression and anxiety , followed by PTSD , and roughly one-quarter screened positive for high-risk drinking. Controls demonstrated significantly higher baseline opioid and amphetamine use than intervention participants , although use of both was extremely low. The 2 groups did not differ in terms of barriers to MH care, but at baseline, controls were significantly more ready than intervention participants to obtain MH treatment. At baseline, the 2 arms did not differ regarding past 5-year MH treatment or self-care activities . In the intervention arm, of 4 possible motivational coaching sessions for MH treatment initiation, participants competed a mean of 2.6 sessions, and of 2 possible MH treatment retention sessions , a mean of 1.72 sessions were completed. As shown in Table 4, a similar number of controls and intervention participants initiated clinician-directed MH treatment during follow-up . Of those initiating MH treatment, a similar proportion reported ≥ 2 MH visits: 41% of controls reported a mean of 6.6 visits, SD = 9.6, and 37% of intervention participants reported a mean of 4.4 visits, SD = 4.6. While there were no between-group differences in type of clinician-directedMH treatment, in this largely rural veteran sample, most MH care was within primary care, followed by MH clinics and receiving “psychiatric medication.” Adjusted Cox proportional hazards regression confirmed no independent differences between the 2 arms with regard to MH treatment initiation , after adjusting for site, MH treatment history, baseline MH symptom severity, baseline opioid and amphetamine scores, and readiness for MH treatment. Of note, the only positive independent association with MH treatment initiation was greater MH symptom severity. Table 6 shows that there were also no significant between group differences regarding engagement in nonclinician-directed MH treatment. Figure 3 summarizes the proportion of participants in each arm initiating self-care activities during follow-up. Compared with controls, more participants in the intervention arm engaged in MH-related Internet or mobile self-help applications and MH-focused community classes . Self-reported MH screen scores and quality of life domain scores were captured at 8 and 16 weeks . Varying numbers of participants did not complete assessments at these 2 time points, resulting in missing values. Nevertheless, as shown in Table 7, compared with controls, intervention participants had significantly lower depression scores and cannabis scores . The COACH trial tested a veteran peer-delivered telephone motivational coaching intervention to improve MH treatment initiation among veterans who primarily used rural VA health care facilities and screened positive for MH symptoms but were not in MH care; which, to our knowledge, is the only study of its kind. No significant differences were found between groups in clinician-directed MH treatment initiation , nor in MH treatment retention. Notably, however, veterans randomized to the intervention were significantly more likely than controls to demonstrate modest improvements in several secondary outcomes, flood and drain tray including MH symptoms, quality of life indicators, and self-care. Qualitative findings may explain how achieving these secondary MH and quality of life outcomes in the intervention arm may have paradoxically obviated veterans’ need to engage in more formal MH treatment. Both participant- and intervention-related factors may explain the lack of difference observed between the 2 groups regarding MH treatment engagement. First, rural veterans prefer to address MH concerns on their own terms , largely influenced by geography and culture, as opposed to engaging in traditional MH treatment. 

In addition, stoicism, self-reliance, and preference for community, family, and peers may have presented barriers to MH treatment engagement among rural veterans not observed in prior similar studies of urband welling veterans. Regarding the intervention, while other studies have employed MH professionals to deliver MI, this study trained peer veterans to conduct motivational coaching. MITI scores demonstrated fair fidelity to MI, raising the question of whether the primary outcome may have been enhanced by stronger adherence to MI principles. Additionally, intervention participants received a mean of 2.6 of 4 motivational coaching sessions, suggesting that dose may have been attenuated, although other studies with fewer doses of MI have achieved treatment engagement. Nevertheless, this study achieved overall enhanced MH treatment engagement in all participants, likely through components common across both study arms, for example, multiple MH assessments, feedback of MH results, and personalized treatment referrals by veteran peers. These findings align with studies which have demonstrated that assessment of substance use alone is associated with significant reductions in use, known as “assessment reactivity.” Similar to our study, Walker et al found that repeated assessment for alcohol abuse followed by a single session of telephone-delivered MI versus psychoeducation were both associated with increased treatment seeking in soldiers with untreated alcohol abuse, pinpointing repeated assessment as a key ingredient. The between-group descriptive analyses for the secondary outcomes demonstrated that veteran peer motivational coaching resulted in improved MH symptoms, reduced cannabis use, improved quality of life scores, and encouraged self-care activities compared to controls as observed in another study. This finding may be explained by the fact that “partnership” was the highest of the peers’ MITI global ratings. Self-disclosure about their experiences may have explained the higher partnership scores, although self disclosure is not measured by the MITI.Non-clinician peers were specifically selected as study interventionists for this trial because rural veterans are known to prefer and trust insiders over “outside experts.” Qualitative exit interviews did suggest that the veteran peers achieved a therapeutic effect themselves, possibly through partnership and relatability, in their delivery of the motivational coaching intervention. For example, one study participant explained, “When she opened up that she was a veteran, I think it made me -. I let my guard down a lot more. It gave me more freedom to express myself and actually talk.” Another consideration is that greater MH symptom severity , and hence perceived need for MH treatment, is a major driver of MH treatment engagement. Thus, as veteran peers achieved secondary outcomes of improved MH symptoms, quality of life, and increased self-care through motivational coaching, they may have paradoxically reduced veterans’ need for formal MH treatment engagement, perhaps explaining our findings in this trial. For example, one participant described the veteran peer coach as helping them, “catch it quickly, without it getting so out of hand that I have to call somebody for mental health. That was—to me—the highlight of all this.” This trial had several limitations that should be considered in interpreting results. First, as evidenced by the CONSORT diagram , veterans enrolling in the trial were likely a biased sample as roughly half who were assessed for eligibility declined to participate. However, this attrition is not wholly unexpected because administrative data were used for recruitment. Second, the sample was largely White, male, and VA service-connected , so findings may not generalize to veterans of color and non-veteran populations. Third, there was large loss to follow-up among rural veterans , but reasons for drop-out are not known. Fourth, fidelity to the MI component of the intervention, intended to enhance MH treatment engagement, may have been supplanted by veteran peers’ “peerness” or relatability, which may have favored the study’s secondary outcomes.

The control plane runs on the controller server, with the purpose of sending instructions to the network to update routes. Our orchestrator server set up applications in the computing nodes and collects statistics to measure performance. The northbound and southbound interfaces enable the communication from the SDN controller to the control plane and the orchestrator. We configured SNMP and SCPI as well, for coarse-grain statistics and to send instructions to the optical switch. To differentiate between host and guest machines for both servers and switches, we use the terms host or physical when not referring to the virtualized elements. The purpose of the control network is to create out-of-band links that facilitate experiment orchestration and collecting data from the testbed, without sending instructions through UC Davis network. In such manner, we have full control over the infrastructure, the network design and we keep dedicated links without worrying for bandwidth availability nor external outages. The individual clouds in Figure 2.3 illustrate different networks, with their own IP addressing. Orchestrator, EPS chassis, controller, node1, and node2 are connected with physical 1 Gbps ethernet links through an electronic switch. The Opticalswitch is also connected with a 1 Gbps ethernet cable to the orchestrator. Our computing nodes vm1, vm2, vm3 and vm4 are hosted in node1 and node2, interconnected with virtual links. As we mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, our data plane is a reconfigurable optical network driven by an optical switch and four electronic packet switches. Br1, br2, br3 and br4 are hosted in an EPS chassis configured for running in OVS mode, which means that they are optimized for OpenFlow applications and receive instructions from a centralized SDN controller. Each individual link can forward data at rates up to 10 Gbps. Figure 2.4 represent the general topology of our data plane. Nevertheless, grow racks the physical links can be attached or removed with software to or from different bridges as a consequence of the flexibility that OVS yields. We use the terms bridge, EPS and ToR as synonyms.

SDN-enabled devices communicate with a controller through a channel, using OpenFlow protocol. In our testbed, the SDN controller is the built-in application OFCTL OpenFlow switches use flow tables to route packets by matching one or more fields. to achieve dynamic routing in a software defined network. Pica8 PICOS is the Network Operating System that runs in our physical EPS. It allows the chassis to run in two modes: Traditional L2/L3 mode and OVS. We use the latter, as it fits in our SDN design. In our testbed, we handle the traffic as needed without traditional routing protocols like OSPF. If there is any overlap in the flow tables, the forwarding action will be random and this behavior is not desired. To avoid that, the priority field is varied in our experiments. We use a single flow table for each bridge, and the addressing is done with IPv4. The relevant fields for our testbed are described in Table 2.1. An alternative to run tests with SDN is to use the L2/L3 mode in PICOS with cross flow enabled. This hybrid approach allows a combination of both networking paradigms. Network operators interact with the switch with Linux commands or a CLI similar to Juniper Junos interface. The flexibility of having two consoles is useful for researchers with different backgrounds. Some may be experienced with Linux servers, others with enterprise or service provider networking. However, throughout our experiments we found issues while performing optical reconfiguration in hybrid operation. We observed that the ports where we connect the transceivers remained in down state after we execute the optical reconfiguration. We had to reboot the Picos service and reinstall the flows to get the ports up, adding at least one minute to the reconfiguration. Hence we decided to run OVS mode. So far, we have discussed the pertinence of flows in our testbed and how we use the SDN controller to update routes from the orchestrator using a REST API. Now we will introduce the concept of flow in computer networks. RFCs are technical documents published by the IETF after being written and reviewed by interested parties.

They cover foundations for computer networks, namely transport, addressing and routing. From RFCs 2722 and 3697, a flow is defined as the packets sent from a source to a destination that may be unicast, multicast or anycast, with specific attributes . An alternate definition for flow refers to the packets in a single physical media or stream of data. In the context of our testbed, a flow is an entry in a table that is attached to a specific bridge, with different fields that will be matched to follow the desired route towards their destination.Two EXXACT chassis , node1 and node2, host the virtual machines, vm1, vm2, vm3 and vm4. Each physical server has an Intel X710 dual NIC which supports up to 10 Gbps per port. The main issue with this card was the transceiver compatibility, because it does not read generic devices but only products listed in the Intel compatibility tool. Every virtual server has its own 10 Gbps dedicated port that connects to the data plane, as illustrated in Figure 2.4. Additionally, we connected the virtual machines to the orchestrator with dedicated 1 Gbps NICs apart from the 10 Gbps cards. Figure 3.2 represents the wired and virtual links between the orchestrator, host servers and virtual machines. Virtual bridges inside node1 and node2 map the traffic from the guest servers to the exterior. These interconnections enable the orchestration of applications in our experiments from a principal server. In the rest of the thesis, we use virtual machines, virtual server, computing nodes, computing servers as synonyms.Technologies for optical switches were introduced in chapter 1. In our testbed, optical reconfigurations were performed with a Polatis optical switch tray , a single-mode MEMS device that takes up to 25 ms to steer the light beam to the new port. Instructions for switching were sent from the orchestrator with SCPI commands through a TCP socket. The ethernet interface of the switch speeds up the deployment and integration with our testbed control network. The lack of an openflow agent in the OST does not allow to seamlessly integrate the optical switch with an SDN controller. Nevertheless, most recent chassis such as the Polatis 6000 and 7000 series come with open flow agents to enable centralized management with SDN.

These products offer flexibility for theindustry. However, they are built on top of the same MEMS-based technology and the switching latency is still in the order of tens of millisecond.Small Form-factor Pluggable are defined by Cisco as compact optical transceivers. They create an interface between optical and electrical communications, with a transmitter and a receiver in both sides of the link, and support several communication standards like Ethernet, SONET and PON . They are manufactured for different purposes: single mode, multimode, for short and long distances, fiber and copper. It is important to choose the appropriate SFP for the application, otherwise the deployments could not work properly or the devices could get damaged. We installed two types of 10 Gbps transceivers. The first works with multi mode fiber in the 850 nm band, grow table and allow us to connect the computing nodes with the electronic packet switches, as observed in Figure 2.4. The second kind is 10 Gbps DWDM SFP, operating in the C band. By using Single Mode Fiber patch cords connecting our electronic packet switches and optical switch, we created a reconfigurable optical network which supports multiple wavelengths. Various tools are available to generate packets between hosts. Some are packeth, ostinato, D-ITG, MGEN iperf and TRex. The latest is developed and maintained by Cisco, and it offers scalability up to 200 Gbps per server. However, this tool is made for a single server, that is, the transmitter and receiver are hosted in the same physical machine, which must have at least two NICs from the supported models. The Device Under Test can be an external element or virtualized. Codilime, a company that specializes in software and computer networks, customized TRex to allow testing a network from different start and end points. We tested this traffic generator, but the installation, configuration and integration with our testbed was not straightforward. In contrast, iPerf installation and execution is quick, it does not show issues with drivers and the integration with our experiments was successful. This tool has been widely used in research and generates synthetic packets to emulate traffic between servers. Several studies have shown different approaches to gather statistics to analyze network performance. Platforms like Netseer, Jetstream, Planck have demonstrated improvements in the detection of network performance anomalies, including packet drops, decrease in throughput and increased latency, at different scales like data center and cloud. Zhang et al. [99] compare two ways of gathering data from computer networks, fine and coarse sampling. To analyze testbed latencies and network performance metrics,we used tcpdump as we need end-to-end per-packet resolution. On the other hand, SNMP counters work well to confirm that the data stream is going through the desired route when we design the reconfiguration paths. Zabbix is a popular tool in enterprises for monitoring systems, including SNMP statistics, and there are docker versions for agile implementation. With this software we observed how the traffic flows through the EPSs interfaces. To monitor traffic per flow, we deployed an sflow collector and sflow agents in the virtual bridges. Recalling the first chapter, the goals for this research comprehend building a networking and computing testbed with SDN capabilities to demonstrate the benefit of make before break approach combining optical and electronic packet switches to achieve hitless reconfiguration. In Figure 2.1 we show the architecture of the testbed and the meaning of each element in the network diagram. The data plane encompasses an optical switch and four electronic packet switches , connected to an SDN control plane. The topology can be modified as needed with Open vSwitch commands. Additionally, an orchestrator sends the route updates to the controller and optical switch. In the first subsection we analyze the hardware and software switching latency introduced by our control plane. Next, we compare the throughput, round-trip time and packet loss of a single data stream between a pair of servers . We show the benefit of our make before break approach for updating the route, compared to a plain optical reconfiguration. Finally, similar to the single data stream experiments, we show the metrics of doing a route update with two data streams to demonstrate the benefit of make before break. We refer to the last subsection as bandwidth steering experiments. Five main switching latencies were found in our testbed. A summary is shown in Table 4.1. We discuss each one in the following subsections. Overall, the dominant latency of 605ms is introduced by the transceivers and the operating system of the host electronic packet switch. In later sections, we show how to avoid interrupting the data stream due to a link unavailability caused by a path reconfiguration, by using our MBB approach. We define the optical switching latency as the time it takes from the beginning of the reconfiguration performed by the optical switch, which leads the ports to go down, until all the transceivers report operativity in the ToR chassis. The topology in Figure 4.1 shows a single data stream between servers vm2 and vm3. At the beginning, the data transfer goes through EPS br2, br1, br4, and br3 . Then we perform the path reconfiguration with the optical switch ost1, and the new route between servers passes through switches br2 and br3 . A summary of steps performed in our experiment is shown in Table 4.2. Server 2 and server 3 run iperf in server and client mode, respectively. The data rate on the sender side is set at values from 5 Gbps to 10 Gbps, with a duration of 20s. After 485 experiments, we obtained the logs from the physical electronic packet switch, which hosts the virtual switches br1, br2, br3, br4. Then we identify all the interface flapping events of the ports in the topology shown in Figure 4.1. Finally, we calculate the time difference between these events, port down and port up, to obtain the summary of statistics in Table 4.3 and Figure 4.2 as well.