Not long after leaving Harvard Law School, Freedman was cast into an unprecedented role as the first-ever governor's director of marijuana coordination (sometimes referred to as the “marijuana czar”). Having been thrown head-first into the job, he now runs a consulting company working with other states on policy implementation—in part to avoid repeating his mistakes in Colorado. Freedman was excited by the fact that the goal in Canada is “to meet demand for cannabis, but the approach isn’t as commercial or profit-driven as what you’d generally see in the U.S.”

Details of the regulatory framework remain to be seen, The New York Times reports, but a few elements stand out as health safeguards: There will be “strict limits” on advertising, and marijuana will “likely be sold in uniform packages that carry health warnings as their only decoration,” and candies and other edibles will be banned.

This level of regulation has been criticized by some marijuana advocates, and it would have seemed excessive to me when I first reported on marijuana legalization in Colorado in 2014. I didn’t expect to hear many health-related objections—especially as compared to other substances that account for so much more harm. Indeed the sheriff of Pitkin County, Joe DiSalvo, told me that not much had changed in the months since dispensaries started opening. He pushed back against my obligatory questions about whether Aspen had been overrun by marijuana and “dope fiends.”

Later that night at a bar down the street from his office, though, I found myself on stage moderating a much heavier discussion with two affable young men who turned out to be very concerned about legalization. They made a passionate case that the state wasn’t ready to regulate such an industry, and that a public-health crisis loomed—once what they called “Big Marijuana” started marketing and profiting in the ways of so many other politically influential entities.

I felt irresponsible as a doctor for not having considered how slippery the slope could become in the longer term. Their argument, essentially: The streets were quiet now, but in short order, Big Marijuana could be the next Big Tobacco or Big Alcohol or Big Soda. The forces of capitalism would see the streets flooded with weed and weed-laced products, ever more potent and ever more desirable. Marketing messages would teach us that daily marijuana use was good or even necessary. Once the industry got the money and lobbying power it needed, regulations would grow more and more relaxed. As regulation and enforcement waned, the few storefronts that didn’t end up peddling THC in some form—edible, smokable, vape-able, topical, insertable—might feature vending machines or ads for weed. There could be enormous neon billboards with cartoon characters selling weed candy at amusement parks. And it won’t just be about the kids. People in grocery-store checkout lines who had no prior interest in weed would opt to pick up a THC-infused granola bar, and then they would start buying one every day. Politicians who attempted to rein in the chaos would be pilloried and ousted by Big Marijuana lobbyists.