Maria Full of Grace: Free Trade Now!

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on August 3, 2005.

Is free trade moral? In other words, is free trade not just a good idea from an economic perspective—since it allows different countries to profit from their comparative advantage—but is it also a moral necessity? Is the hindrance of trade morally problematic?

One would be hard pressed to find an absolute moral case for free trade, a deontological argument stating that free trade is a universal moral good that should be upheld, regardless of specific consequences (e.g., domestic job loss). However, one could argue that from the standpoint of utility, free trade generally improves the lot of the many, and to restrict it would be to deny large groups of people an increase in their standard of living. While a utilitarian argument may not convince a deontologist of any absolute, intrinsic, and/or universal validity in free trade, it may go a long way towards convincing everyday people, who (I hypothesize) hold both deontological and consequentialist views.

Joshua Marston's Maria Full of Grace (2004)—largely a portrayal of a young woman's struggle to better her economic lot—touches upon the hot button issues within free trade: namely, what counts as "legitimate" trade and the often unintended consequences of regulatory action.

Catalina Sandino Moreno plays María Álvarez, a young Colombian woman who works at a large, industrial flower farm, "dethorning" roses that are exported to the United States. We soon learn that life in her small, sleepy town has become a drag. María feels trapped financially because a large chunk of her income supports her sister, who is caring for an out-of-wedlock baby; she finds out that she, too, has recently become pregnant; and her boyfriend, though offering to marry her and make everything "legit," is not the most stand-up guy in town.

After enduring a humiliating episode at the hands of her supervisor, María quits the flower farm and makes plans to find a better job in Bogotá. A new acquaintance, Franklin (John Álex Toro), offers her a ride to the big city and on the way, he mentions that he's got an opportunity: Perhaps María would be interested in working as a drug "mule," transporting cocaine to the United States. However, this is no ordinary smuggling gig: Drug mules actually ingest plastic-coated, grape-sized pellets of cocaine, fly to the United States, and (assuming they don't get caught) excrete the contents for the cartel's US distributors.

Clearly, it's dangerous work. If just one of the pellets breaks in the abdomen, then the mule most likely dies. In addition, US Customs officials are fully aware of the practice, so getting caught is a very real possibility (in fact, we learn that drug cartels routinely send several mules per flight, just in case one or more run afoul of the law). Finally, the cartels keep close tabs on how many pellets they send per mule; if just one is missing, then dire consequences are sure to follow.

Maria Full of Grace does an excellent job of portraying the tension surrounding such a dangerous line of work, as well as the tragic consequences when something does go awry. This movie is not for the faint of heart. However, what does it have to do with trade?

On one level, we have a tendency to separate issues of free trade (which we catalogue under "business," "commerce," and "economics") and narcotics (which we catalogue under "border control," "crime," and "law enforcement"). However, they fundamentally fall under the same rubric: One can look at the criminalization of narcotics as simply another barrier to the free exchange of goods and services between voluntary actors, similar to import taxes and quotas.

Secondly, state regulations of all kinds often produce unintended (and even harmful) consequences. One doesn't have to be a libertarian to recognize the ill effects of drug criminalization: restricted supply leading to increased prices...which creates incentives for organized crime to enter the market...which exacerbates the violent conflict between criminals and law enforcement (or which facilitates corruption within law enforcement), etc. Maria Full of Grace presents just one example of the harmful, unintended consequences of state action: The large profits stemming from drug criminalization incentivizes all parties involved, from cartel bosses to street-level mules and pushers, to take huge risks, especially if they come from poor backgrounds and see narcotics as the only way to improve their lot.

A simple (simplistic?) response, of course, is just to remind everyone that the sale and possession of narcotics is illegal and to say that those who take their chances in a dangerous, illicit trade have only themselves to blame, if something goes awry. That's true as far it goes, and I certainly am not advocating that we ignore Paul's words in Romans 13 regarding obedience to state authority (though his words need to be read alongside Biblical reminders regarding the limits of human authority [Daniel 3; Acts 5:17-42]). However, the majority of those reading this review are not living under anything resembling the Roman Empire; we theoretically live in a representative regime and have the right to change or repeal laws, including those regarding narcotics.

Thus, we come back to our original question. Defending an absolute moral "right" to engage in trade (including the trade of narcotics) is a very difficult task. Because they are so abstract, absolute rights are hard to grasp in any material way, and it's easy for detractors to poke holes in any attempt to create a philosophical argument for such rights. (In addition, I cannot recall any explicit discussion in the Bible regarding the morality of trade.) However, a practical, or utilitarian, argument is much more plausible because it's more concrete. One can see the material benefits of trade, and proponents can explain in "real" terms how the benefits of trade outweigh its costs (or, in the case of drugs, how the costs of criminalization outweigh its benefits).

So, should Christians write to their local representative and demand that the state "legalize it"? One is not morally obligated to do so, partially because no inherent right to possess and/or sell drugs exists. However, I would encourage my fellow Christians to take another look at this issue from a practical perspective and to ask ourselves whether our current "War on Drugs" does more harm than good. Such cost-benefit analysis may seem cold, but if we are honest with ourselves, then we would recognize that we make such calculations every day under our (theoretically) representative government and market economy. At some level, we are all utilitarians. If a Christian rejects this method of social/political interaction, then he/she is advocating nothing less than theocracy — an issue beyond the scope of this review!