Psychedelics are experiencing a revival. Are we prepared to embrace them now?

Back in 1987, my older brother Jeremy introduced me to magic mushrooms. He arrived one day with a bag of golden caps he had foraged north of Melbourne. With enthusiasm, he recounted his experience, describing how the mushrooms acted as a non-specific amplifier of consciousness, enhancing colors and sensations, and expanding thoughts in ways that revealed new perspectives and insights.

This intrigued me greatly. At that time, I was feeling stuck. Two years prior, I had come out of a grim stint in the Australian state school system, followed by a gap year working under a demanding boss in a computer store. With no better options, I enrolled in a Science/Law degree but found myself disheartened in classes about contract law and inorganic chemistry, feeling restless and dissatisfied. Life felt unbearably mundane, and I saw no escape.

I thought taking mushrooms might provide a pleasant distraction from my ennui, but I was quickly met with a harsh reality. As soon as the mushrooms took effect, I was thrust into the depths of my anxieties. In a desperate attempt to suppress a wave of dread, I distanced myself from a toxic group of friends and sought refuge in a spare room, where I curled up and was engulfed by ever-changing geometric visions. At one point, I lost all sense of self, climbing a ladder out of my body into a celestial ship made of stars. This was my soul’s vessel, patiently waiting in some abstract realm for the moment it would guide me home. The peace I felt was profound and beyond words.

However, I soon found myself back in that bed, grappling again with my rising anxiety. My attempts to suppress it were futile. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by an eruption of sexual energy, a torrent of intense, unrestrained emotion that lasted for hours, leaving me almost exhausted.

This extraordinary release of energy was transformative. The neurotic confines of my adolescent self were shattered. I recognized how my vitality had been trapped in trying to conform to societal expectations from educational and work institutions, which had left me miserable. Everything around me appeared as part of a vast interconnected web of consciousness, rendering my insecurities absurd. I believed that I had undergone a permanent transformation, and my life would never be the same.

Yet, as often happens with such experiences, the insights I gained began to fade. Within days, old habits started to reclaim their hold, and my familiar anxieties resurfaced. I simply didn’t know how to maintain the new perspectives that had emerged during my trip.

Reflecting on this transformative experience over three decades later, I can affirm that it was indeed one of the most pivotal moments of my life. It alleviated the grip of my depression, leading me to leave university and embark on a journey to India, where I spent six months exploring what it means to be young, alive, and free. My life was redirected towards a path that resonated with my true nature.

I am not alone in experiencing life-altering benefits from psychedelics. A 2006 study at Johns Hopkins University revealed that two-thirds of participants who received psilocybin considered the experience among the most significant and spiritually meaningful of their lives, comparable to major life events like childbirth or the death of a parent. This sentiment persisted even months later. Other rigorous studies have confirmed their efficacy in addressing various mental health issues, from depression to PTSD, often surpassing conventional medications.

The current resurgence of psychedelics in research and clinical settings comes after a lengthy period of prohibition. The uncontrolled recreational use of LSD in the 1960s led to significant backlash, fueled partly by the reckless behavior of certain psychedelic proponents like Timothy Leary and a reactionary effort to suppress the counterculture. Public campaigns against LSD instilled fear in youth, spreading exaggerated tales of users jumping from buildings, believing they could fly. Governments responded by halting research and classifying psychedelics alongside substances like methamphetamine and heroin, squandering an invaluable opportunity for science and society.

However, “renaissance” might not fully capture what’s occurring now. What we see is a gradual easing of the stringent restrictions that once stifled psychedelic exploration, but genuine acceptance remains slow and precarious. Despite compelling evidence supporting the benefits of MDMA therapy for PTSD, the FDA recently rejected its use for treatment, citing concerns over potential neurotoxicity.

This exemplifies a cognitive bias that disproportionately emphasizes the risks of our actions over the harms of inaction. If the situation were reversed—if a drug could remedy the adverse effects of MDMA sessions, which caused lasting PTSD—would the FDA still refuse approval? Denying relief to countless individuals suffering from this debilitating condition due to apprehensions about neurotoxic effects seems excessively paternalistic. Ultimately, it should be a matter of informed consent. Conventional antidepressants and many other psychotropic medications, which are often less effective than MDMA, can also have significant side effects.

Such extreme caution reflects the persistent stigma surrounding psychedelics. For the FDA, it may feel “safer” to deny approval for drugs associated with countercultural imagery rather than risk reputational damage from any adverse outcomes tied to psychedelic therapies.

Moreover, psychedelics challenge not only the psychiatric establishment but also any hierarchical social structure. Rather than inducing false perceptions—like the mythical "pink elephants"—these substances often unveil realities we typically overlook. They expose the illusions that uphold social norms, revealing the absurdity of authority figures and the loneliness of wealth.

In another trip shortly after my initial experience, I strolled through my neighborhood and suddenly perceived it as a vast cemetery, with each house isolated in its own little domain. An ad for security doors transformed into a symbol of systemic insecurity, highlighting the distrust and isolation inherent in suburban life. Was this perception a hallucination?

The more one aligns with the status quo and its symbols, the more threatening psychedelics become. This threat likely contributed to the backlash of the 1960s. Today, pharmaceutical companies are eager to create a non-psychedelic version of psychedelics, hoping to extract the therapeutic benefits without the accompanying emotional and insightful experiences. This is akin to seeking the hydration from water while avoiding its wetness.

Magic mushrooms did not alleviate my depression through any isolated mechanism. The experience itself is intrinsic to the transformative process facilitated by the mushrooms, with active participation being crucial. Psychedelics cannot merely be reduced to a “pill” that passively treats a condition. The trip that reshaped my life was powerful because it was deeply meaningful, addressing a crisis of meaning rather than merely balancing neurotransmitters. I had lost my sense of purpose and agency, and a pill cannot rectify that. In fact, framing it as a passive intervention only reinforces that feeling.

Pharmaceutical companies, however, seldom discuss meaning. Publicly, they focus on disease treatment and alleviating suffering, while privately, the emphasis is on profit. With psilocybin, there’s little financial incentive for a drug that cannot be patented and is readily available for foraging. Furthermore, managing the complexities of guided trips can be costly and challenging. While MDMA requires synthesis, the ongoing reluctance to validate its clinical use will push desperate PTSD sufferers to seek it illegally, often in unsafe conditions. The resulting negative experiences will only perpetuate stigma, making future clinical acceptance even less likely.

In Melbourne, the first legal psychedelic treatment clinic has opened, charging a staggering $22,000 for a course of psilocybin therapy. This represents a significant self-sabotage and is disgraceful. How many people can afford such a price for mental health treatment? If individuals can pick psilocybe cubensis in the wild for free, many will likely choose that path. While self-medication may work for some, it can also lead to harm. These powerful compounds can trigger intense experiences that necessitate the guidance of experienced facilitators. High financial barriers to treatment ensure that those most in need are left without access, jeopardizing the entire initiative.

I do not claim that psychedelics are a panacea. Despite my advocacy, I do not believe they are a silver bullet. As my brother aptly stated, they amplify consciousness in a non-specific manner. They do not guarantee happiness or enlightenment. Michael Pollan, in his insightful book "How To Change Your Mind," suggests that psychedelics introduce entropy into the brain by reducing default mode network activity, fostering novel connections and neuroplastic change. He notes that psychedelic treatment may particularly benefit individuals with rigid thinking patterns, like those suffering from long-term depression or OCD, while potentially being contraindicated for those experiencing too little cognitive order, such as individuals with psychotic disorders.

I am aware of a case where psychedelic treatment did not yield positive results. An acquaintance with chronic clinical depression underwent supervised MDMA and psilocybin sessions. Impressed by the outcomes, she pursued training as a psychedelic therapist, which included supervised ketamine sessions. Unfortunately, one poorly facilitated session resulted in a severe anxiety attack that persisted, triggering another depressive episode. She then attempted to self-medicate with MDMA, leading to further complications.

This cautionary tale highlights the risks associated with uncontrolled substance use, as well as the current predicament where the benefits of psychedelics are recognized, yet legal treatment remains elusive, resulting in a rise in underground therapy often lacking skilled supervision.

I express this ambivalence because I support the decriminalization of most psychedelics. I do not want to see them entirely regulated by a psychiatric framework that views their effects solely through a neurophysiological lens, neglecting their experiential significance. How would a conventional psychiatrist interpret my “ship of stars” or a four-hour orgasm? Such experiences are unlikely to be addressed in psychiatry textbooks! A misguided psychiatrist attempting to reduce my trip to mere physiological terms or dismiss my experiences would have detracted from their value. Treatment with these substances must be conducted by specialists who comprehend when their use is appropriate and who are well-versed in the phenomenological aspects of psychedelic experiences.

Psychedelics find themselves at a critical juncture once more. Many informal seekers and explorers in the West have understood their philosophical and spiritual significance since the 1960s, rediscovering what indigenous cultures have known for generations. Science has finally caught up, and their potential clinical value is now undeniable. Yet, the recent FDA decision on MDMA illustrates that we still have a considerable journey ahead. There exists an intrinsic tension between the visions induced by psychedelics and the disconnected nature of contemporary society. This tension was underscored by the social upheaval of the 1960s and early 1970s, partially fueled by widespread LSD use. These substances have the power to change lives—and even the world. Whether we are prepared for them this time remains to be seen.