Michael Krawitz And Etienne Fontan Are On The Front Lines In The War On Drugs
Two Veterans Who Have Help Move The World Toward Cannabis Sanity
As someone who wore the uniform, breathed the dust of distant bases, and later found my calling in the fight against cannabis prohibition, I’ve met my share of warriors. Few have carried the mission as far, or as effectively, as Michael Krawitz, a fellow Air Force veteran whose work has quietly reshaped both American and international cannabis policy.
Krawitz didn’t set out to become a global cannabis advocate. Like many of us, he was pushed into activism by necessity. After serving as an Electronic Warfare Systems Technician on B‑52 bombers in Guam from 1981 to 1986, he endured severe service‑connected injuries that led to more than a dozen surgeries. Pain management became a lifelong battle, and like countless veterans, he discovered that cannabis offered relief where traditional medicine fell short. Instead of keeping that discovery to himself, he turned it into a mission.
In 2007, Krawitz founded Veterans for Medical Cannabis Access (VMCA), the first U.S. veterans’ service organization dedicated solely to medical cannabis access. In 2010, he achieved something many advocates thought impossible: he negotiated the first‑ever VA system‑wide medical cannabis directive, a policy shift so significant it landed on the front page of The New York Times.
That directive didn’t legalize cannabis, but it did something just as important: it protected veterans enrolled in state medical cannabis programs from losing their VA care. For the first time, the federal government acknowledged that cannabis had a legitimate place in veterans’ health. As a vet myself, I can tell you, that was a seismic moment.
Krawitz didn’t stop at the VA. He became a key figure in international cannabis reform, working with the World Health Organization and the United Nations Commission on Narcotic Drugs. His advocacy contributed to the historic December 2020 UN vote removing cannabis from Schedule IV of the 1961 Single Convention, the category reserved for the most dangerous and medically useless substances.
That vote didn’t end prohibition worldwide, but it cracked the foundation of the global drug‑control system. And it happened because activists like Krawitz refused to let outdated policy stand unchallenged.
Beyond policy work, Krawitz is a respected historian of cannabis prohibition and a leader in grassroots veteran organizing. He helped push states to recognize PTSD as a qualifying condition for medical cannabis, and he continues to serve on Virginia’s Cannabis Public Health Advisory Council, helping guide the state’s transition toward regulated adult‑use access.
He’s also part of the Veterans Action Council, a volunteer‑only coalition with no hierarchy, no funding, and no corporate ties — just veterans working together to end prohibition and restore cannabis and industrial hemp to society
For those of us fighting for full cannabis legalization, medical and recreational, Krawitz’s story is more than inspiring. It’s proof that persistence works. It’s proof that veterans can move mountains. And it’s proof that cannabis reform isn’t just a cultural shift; it’s a human‑rights issue.
Ending prohibition means giving patients safer options. It means giving farmers access to industrial hemp markets. It means freeing people from outdated laws that never should have existed. And it means honoring the lived experiences of veterans who’ve found healing in cannabis despite decades of stigma.
Michael Krawitz has spent more than 20 years pushing that mission forward. The rest of us (activists, veterans, journalists, and everyday citizens) are carrying it the rest of the way. Because the truth is simple: cannabis legalization isn’t a trend. It’s justice long overdue
If you spend enough years in the trenches of cannabis activism (the hearings, the rallies, the late‑night strategy calls) you start to recognize the people who aren’t just talking about change but actually moving the needle. Etienne Fontan is one of those rare figures. And as a fellow veteran who’s spent decades fighting the fallout of cannabis prohibition, I can tell you: his story hits home.
Fontan’s journey didn’t begin in a boardroom or a dispensary. It began in the desert. During the 1991 Gulf War, he served as an artilleryman with the West Virginia Army National Guard, operating under the 18th Airborne Corps during Operation Desert Storm. The conditions were brutal (sandstorms, extreme heat, chemical‑weapon alerts) and like many of us who served, he came home carrying injuries and symptoms that military doctors struggled to treat. Those doctors recommended cannabis. The Army punished him for using it. A positive drug test cost him his benefits and pushed him into the very fight that would define his life.
Fontan didn’t fold. He redirected that injustice into purpose. By 1993, he was traveling the country with the Cannabis Action Network, speaking at rallies, teach‑ins, and rock‑and‑roll tours across 47 states educating Americans about cannabis, industrial hemp, and the human cost of prohibition
His advocacy wasn’t just loud; it was strategic. He lobbied local, state, federal, and international governments, pushing for patient rights, veteran access, and full cannabis legalization. He worked alongside leaders like Barbara Lee, Earl Blumenauer, and Tom Bates, helping shape policy long before cannabis reform became politically fashionable
Fontan isn’t just an activist, he’s a builder. He became Vice President and co‑owner of Berkeley Patients Group (BPG), the nation’s oldest continuously operating medical cannabis dispensary, founded in 1999. Under his leadership, BPG became a model for safe, regulated cannabis access. He went on to help establish medical and adult‑use cannabis businesses in California, Nevada, and beyond. He also helped found the National Cannabis Industry Association (NCIA), serving on its board for a decade — including a term as chair — guiding the industry through its early, chaotic years.
Fontan’s activism has always come back to veterans. He founded the Veterans Action Council, an all‑volunteer coalition pushing for cannabis access, natural medicines, and policy reforms that actually reflect the needs of those who served. He’s spoken at the United Nations, collaborated with international reformers, and helped establish the “Cannabis Embassy,” a global advocacy hub that is pushing for rational, evidence‑based drug policy.
For those of us committed to ending medical cannabis prohibition, and pushing toward full recreational legalization, Fontan’s story is more than inspiring. It’s a reminder that this movement wasn’t built by corporations or politicians. It was built by veterans, patients, and everyday people who refused to accept suffering as policy.
Fontan turned personal loss into public leadership. He helped transform cannabis from a taboo into a legitimate medical tool, an economic engine, and a symbol of personal freedom. And he did it with the grit of a soldier and the heart of an activist.
Ending prohibition isn’t just about cannabis. It’s about justice, autonomy, and the right to heal. Etienne Fontan has spent more than 30 years pushing that mission forward. The rest of us are here to finish the job.
