
Why Formal Process Matters in Cannabis Reform: My South Dakota DOH Petition
By Jason Karimi | WeedPress
March 8, 2026
When I filed my petition with the South Dakota Department of Health, I already knew some people would hate it.
Not because it was sloppy. Not because it was unserious. Not because it lacked legal grounding.
They hated it because it was formal.
My petition did not ask the Department for a casual favor. It asked for a real answer to a real legal question: can cannabis remain classified as a Schedule I substance under South Dakota law when South Dakota itself has built, regulated, and administered a statewide medical cannabis program?
That is not a fringe question. It is a statutory question.
South Dakota’s Schedule I statute requires three things: high abuse potential, no accepted medical use in the United States, and lack of accepted safety under medical supervision. My petition argued that those elements cannot just be recited by habit forever when South Dakota law now expressly authorizes physician certification, patient possession, regulated dispensing, and Department-administered oversight under Chapter 34-20G.
So why did some people say the petition was “bad”? Why did one mentor suggest it could hurt my reputation?
Because many people in politics and advocacy do not actually fear weak arguments. They fear formal records.
My petition was not written like a polite memo asking regulators to maybe think about something when convenient. It was written as a petition for declaratory ruling and mandatory scheduling review, invoking SDCL §§ 1-26-13, 1-26-15, 34-20B-11, and 34-20B-27. It asked the Department to issue written findings, determine whether cannabis still satisfies Schedule I criteria, decide whether Chapter 34-20G constitutes legislative recognition of accepted medical use, and take the recommendation steps required by law if the statutory basis for continued Schedule I status no longer holds.
That is what made people nervous.
The filing looks like what it is: a serious administrative petition meant to force the state to confront an inconsistency in its own law. It is not an insider memo. It is not a backchannel conversation. It is not a “just checking in” email. It is a paper trail.
And that is exactly why some cautious insiders dislike it.
There is a real split in advocacy culture between people who prioritize access and people who prioritize record-building. One side wants to stay liked. The other wants the agency on paper. One side believes quiet diplomacy is everything. The other believes unrecorded conversations vanish. My petition plainly belongs to the second category.
Critics will say that makes it too aggressive. I think it makes it honest.
The petition openly asked the Department to interpret the statutory phrase “no accepted medical use in the United States” in light of South Dakota’s own medical cannabis laws. It also pointed to federal scientific reevaluation, including HHS’s recommendation that cannabis be rescheduled federally and the evolving federal framework for determining accepted medical use.
That does not mean the Department has to agree. It does mean the question is substantial enough to deserve more than hand-waving.
My exhibits were built to show that South Dakota is not treating cannabis like a substance with “no accepted medical use.” One exhibit highlighted the statutory language treating a registered patient’s use of cannabis, for purposes of medical care, as equivalent to the authorized use of any other medication used at a practitioner’s discretion. Another focused on the physician certification structure, where licensed practitioners evaluate patients, issue certifications, and make treatment judgments under state law. Another emphasized that the Department itself administers the program, issues cards, regulates dispensaries, and integrates cannabis into its public health framework.
In other words, the petition did not just complain. It made an argument.
Now, there are fair criticisms.
The filing is ambitious. It combines declaratory-ruling language with rulemaking and rescheduling language. It asks for a lot. It clearly anticipates the possibility of judicial review.
That kind of filing can make bureaucrats defensive. It can make incrementalists uncomfortable. It can make movement people who prefer softer tactics worry that the agency will dig in.
Fine. Maybe it will.
But that does not make the petition unserious. It does not make it reckless. And it definitely does not make it “bad.”
What it makes it is direct.
South Dakota cannot on one hand protect practitioners for certifying patients, protect cardholders from arrest for lawful medical use, treat medical cannabis like authorized medication in medical-care settings, and administer a statewide physician-based cannabis regime — then on the other hand pretend no legal tension exists when the Schedule I statute still says “no accepted medical use in the United States.”
Maybe the Department will deny the petition. Maybe it will narrow it. Maybe it will try to sidestep the hardest question.
But forcing that response into the open is not a reputational mistake. It is the point.
A lot of people only like advocacy when it stays symbolic. They like outrage, slogans, hearings, and social posts. They get uneasy when someone takes the government’s own statutes seriously enough to file something that demands a formal answer.
That is what happened here.
So no, I do not think the petition was “bad.” I think it was bold. I think it was structured. I think it raised a legitimate administrative question. And I think the discomfort it caused says more about the political culture around cannabis reform than it says about the filing itself.
If your reputation depends on never making an agency answer a hard question in writing, then maybe this kind of petition is dangerous.
But if your goal is to build a record, expose contradictions, and force the state to either defend its position or retreat from it, then this is exactly the kind of filing that matters.
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