The Directorate of Education’s (DoE) latest directive mandating a 500-metre “Drug-Free Zone” around educational institutions appears to be another exercise in administrative optics. Based on recommendations from the Narcotics Control Bureau (NCB), the circular asks school heads to ensure that the area within this perimeter remains free of narcotics. While the government says the measure is intended to create awareness, we fail to understand how symbolic boundaries would work and why this burden is imposed on school administrators.
The most obvious flaw lies in the directive’s geographical logic. Drug networks do not operate with measuring tapes, and traffickers are hardly likely to stop their activities at the buffer zone of schools. Such a demarcation may create an illusion of protection, but it does little to address the realities of modern drug trafficking. Today’s illicit networks operate on mobile distribution, peer-to-peer networks, digital communication and encrypted platforms to reach vulnerable young people. Creating a small “safe zone” around a school does not protect a child once he or she steps beyond that boundary, nor does it deter the organised networks driving the trade.
While narcotics are one side of the story, controls governing alcohol and tobacco have often been poorly enforced, and that’s the other side. Section 6 of the Cigarettes and Other Tobacco Products Act (COTPA) prohibits the sale of tobacco products within 100 yards of educational institutions, yet kiosks and roadside stalls routinely violate the restriction.
The contradiction is even sharper since the State amended the Goa Excise Duty Rules to allow liquor outlets within what had previously been a restricted 100-metre zone around educational and religious institutions, provided the operator paid double the licence fee. If protecting the health and environment of students is genuinely the priority, it is difficult to understand why safeguards surrounding alcohol can be relaxed for additional revenue.
It is baffling why the DoE is placing responsibilities that belong to enforcement and other authorities on educational institutions. Recently, the DoE was quick to respond to the Supreme Court directives concerning the stray dog menace, asking institutions to appoint internal nodal officers, construct boundary walls, conduct quarterly inspections and coordinate with local authorities for the removal of stray animals. Once again, instead of ensuring that local bodies and enforcement agencies discharged their responsibilities effectively, the State placed an additional layer of responsibility on schools.
Secondly, expecting principals and teachers, who have neither policing powers nor investigative training in these matters, to monitor their surroundings and report suspected drug activity could place them in a potentially dangerous position. Moral policing has its risks. Educators are trained to teach young minds, and not to function as frontline intelligence gatherers against organised narcotic networks.
If the government is serious about tackling substance abuse among the youth, it must look beyond symbolic buffer zones and focus on those directly responsible for enforcement. The Police Department, the Anti-Narcotics Cell and local bodies must strengthen vigilance around educational institutions through better intelligence gathering, closer monitoring of vulnerable transit routes and sustained action against drug suppliers and trafficking networks.
A 500-metre boundary and a few signboards may appear reassuring on paper, but they do not deter suppliers or users. A state-wide drug problem will not be solved by drawing circles around schools. It will be addressed only when those responsible for enforcing the law are prepared to pursue the networks that keep the trade alive.
