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For decades Americans were told marijuana was harmless, a benign herb that deserved sympathy and legalization. The reality is blunt and unsettling: average THC in seized cannabis has risen from roughly 4 percent in the mid-1990s to well over 15 percent today, meaning the cannabis sold now is multiple times stronger than what parents and grandparents remember. This isn’t abstract math — it is a public-health problem disguised as cultural progress.
The change hasn’t been subtle. Scientific analyses show a clear climb in potency across the last two decades, with the ratio of THC to the supposedly counterbalancing CBD swinging dramatically in favor of THC. Where cannabis once contained small amounts of CBD that may have blunted some harms, modern strains often have negligible CBD and far higher THC — a recipe for more intense intoxication and bigger risks, especially for young brains.
Industry engineers have also created concentrated products that would have been unimaginable to past generations: oils, dabs, and extracts that pack many times the THC of plant material and can reach levels rivaling pharmaceuticals. The idea that higher THC equals a better or safer product is a dangerous marketing lie; the physiology of the brain responds to drug dose, not to branding. Americans deserve real labels and limits, not glossy packaging and celebrity endorsements.
This scientific reality matters because higher potency isn’t just about a stronger high — it changes the risk profile. Landmark research has linked daily use of high-potency cannabis to a sharply increased risk of psychotic disorders, and studies have shown that areas with more potent products have higher rates of first-episode psychosis. We should treat those findings as the red flags they are, not as curiosities to be dismissed by activists.
Newer longitudinal studies add urgency: teenagers who use high-THC products are significantly more likely to develop psychotic experiences in their late teens and early twenties compared with peers who used lower-potency varieties. This is not an academic debate for PhDs alone; it is a matter of kids’ futures, families’ safety, and the stability of communities that are already stretched by other social problems. Responsible adults must stop pretending higher potency brings no consequence.
Journalists like Alex Berenson are doing what too many in the mainstream media refuse to do — telling parents and policymakers the plain truth about what modern cannabis contains and the harms it can cause. His appearance on The Megyn Kelly Show is part of a necessary conversation about industry deception, weak regulation, and the refusal of many legalization advocates to acknowledge real costs. If the cultural elite won’t sound the alarm, patriotic journalists and citizens must.
The policy implications are straightforward and commonsense: set potency caps, mandate clear labeling, require rigorous testing, and restrict flavored, candy-like edibles that ensnare children and older adults who don’t understand dose. We shouldn’t criminalize users, but we must protect children, support families, and curb a market driven more by profit than prudence. That kind of regulation is common-sense conservatism — protect communities, defend parents, and keep dangerous substances away from the vulnerable.
Working Americans deserve the truth about what their kids are being sold in dispensaries and on the street. If legalization means surrendering our ability to protect neighborhoods and young minds, then the debate has gone wrong. It’s time to demand honesty from the industry, courage from policymakers, and vigilance from every parent who cares about the next generation.
