The Fear Machine: How Chief Steve Dye’s Testimony Fuels a Bogus Prohibition System

The Fear Machine: How Chief Steve Dye’s Testimony Fuels a Bogus Prohibition System

Chief Steve Dye isn’t a bad man. By all accounts, he is a law enforcement officer who sincerely believes that his work helps keep Texans safe. When he testified in favor of Senate Bill 3 and Senate Bill 1505—proposed laws that would effectively ban consumable THC products in Texas—he spoke with conviction about his concerns over high-potency cannabis derivatives, their impact on youth, and law enforcement’s struggle to regulate the hemp market.

But sincerity does not equal accuracy, and a close examination of Dye’s testimony reveals how deeply flawed, misleading, and ultimately self-serving his statements were—not for himself personally, but for the broader law enforcement system that thrives on prohibition. Whether he realizes it or not, Dye is playing a role in Texas’ long history of moral panic, fear-driven policy, and the deliberate suppression of personal freedoms.

The Skewed Testimony That Fuels a Broken System

During the recent Texas Senate hearing, Dye painted a picture of a state under siege by unregulated, high-potency THC products. He described police investigations that uncovered consumables with up to 78% THC, as though this were an inherent public danger rather than an expected characteristic of concentrated cannabis extracts. What he didn’t explain was that high THC levels in extracts don’t mean increased public harm. Any product containing high concentrations of an active compound—whether it’s alcohol, caffeine, or even vitamins—can be misused. But unlike alcohol or tobacco, which have clear regulatory frameworks, Texas lawmakers have refused to properly regulate cannabis and hemp products, allowing confusion and misinformation to persist.

Dye also warned of mislabeling and youth exposure, framing these as crises that justify prohibition. But here, too, the facts tell a different story. Are some THC products mislabeled? Absolutely—but this is an argument for tighter regulation, not a ban. Every industry, from pharmaceuticals to packaged foods, struggles with occasional mislabeling, yet we don’t respond by outlawing them entirely. By highlighting rare instances of mislabeling as though they are the norm, Dye was not educating legislators—he was manufacturing a justification for criminalization.

Perhaps the most misleading claim Dye made was his assertion that many THC products currently being sold are “illegal.” This is a classic sleight-of-hand argument used by prohibitionists. Some products may exist in a gray area of the law, but that’s largely due to the state’s failure to provide clear, science-based regulations. The truth is, many of the hemp-derived THC products on the market are legal under both state and federal law—a fact that Dye deliberately obscured to bolster his case for shutting the industry down entirely.

Dye’s Authoritarian Instincts and the Texas Electorate

Dye’s rhetoric reflects a deep-seated belief in an authoritarian model of law enforcement, one where control is more important than harm reduction, and arrests take precedence over community well-being. He speaks the language of an officer who believes his job is to interdict, seize, and punish—not to guide, rehabilitate, or prevent harm in more meaningful ways.

This authoritarian style of governance resonates with a particular subset of Texas voters—those who have consistently supported the most punitive approaches to crime and drug policy. These are often the same voters who turn out in Republican primaries, where a mere 1.8 million out of the state’s 18 million eligible voters decide the trajectory of legislation for everyone else. The “Strong Conservatice” segment of those 1.8 million—about a thirdare essentially the bellwether demographic, and the biennial offerings of “red meat” legislation proposed every legislative session are intended to win their approval. Within this small but highly motivated electorate, the most conservative, reactionary voices hold enormous influence.

The polling data bears this out. According to the UT Politics Project, a majority of Texans actually support some form of cannabis legalization. A December 2023 poll found that 34% of Texas voters support marijuana for medical purposes only, 31% support full legalization, and only 24% believe it should remain completely illegal. Among younger voters, support for legalization is even higher—59% of adults under 30 favor full legalization, compared to just 40% of those over 65.

And yet, Texas continues to pass laws that reflect the views of the smallest, most hardline conservative fraction of voters, rather than the will of the people. The reason for this disconnect is simple: the people who show up to vote consistently in primaries are the ones most opposed to progress.

Dye’s statements were not designed to inform an honest debate about public safety. They were crafted to reinforce the worldview of this narrow group of voters, whose support allows prohibitionist politicians to remain in power. This is why, despite overwhelming public support for cannabis reform, Texas remains locked in the past, clinging to the failed war on drugs.

The Real Purpose of Moral Panic: Divide and Rule

It’s worth asking: If the facts that Dye and others use to justify prohibition don’t hold up under scrutiny, then what is the real purpose of this crackdown?

The answer is control. Texas’ legal system is optimized for drug interdiction, not public safety or harm reduction. Police departments, prosecutors, and entire segments of the government rely on the constant churn of drug arrests to justify their budgets and expand their authority. Whether it’s cannabis, psilocybin, or even minor drug possession cases, prohibition feeds the system, ensuring a steady supply of arrests, court fees, and justifications for militarized policing.

At the same time, prohibition serves a political function—it keeps communities divided and fearful. It allows politicians to rally voters around a manufactured crisis, distracting them from real issues like failing infrastructure, sky-high property taxes and corporate tax breaks, underfunded schools, or the broken healthcare system. By turning cannabis, hemp, and other substances into a moral battleground, prohibitionists like Dye and his allies in the legislature keep Texans fighting over symbolic issues rather than demanding real change.

This isn’t about public safety. It’s about maintaining a system where police have an excuse to arrest people, lawmakers have an easy way to stir up outrage, and the status quo remains unchallenged.

The Way Forward: Breaking the Cycle of Fear-Based Lawmaking

If Texas is ever going to move beyond its failed prohibitionist policies, we have to recognize how moral panic wins elections and shapes laws. The only way to break the cycle is for more Texans to engage with the political process—especially in primary elections, where policy is actually decided.

Until then, the same fear-driven rhetoric will continue to dominate, driven by men like Chief Dye—sincere in his beliefs, but ultimately serving a system built on misinformation and control.

Texans deserve better. But we won’t get it until we stop letting the loudest, most extreme voices set the rules for everyone else.