My concern with psychedelics
Writing for Psyche magazine in an article titled Psychedelics are philosophical tools for demolishing assumptions professor David J. Blacker makes a case in favour of psychedelic substances like LSD or psilocybin as conduits to wisdom. Here is a quote, with the text in square brackets coming from me:
Absent a friendly neighbourhood Socrates, how might one deliberately go about removing the constraining weight of those pre-existing conceits [of thinking you know more than you actually do]? There is a chemical aid for precisely that – one that can reliably induce a powerful sense of wonder that very often results in a questioning of received reality and conventional wisdom. I refer, of course, to the ‘classic psychedelics’, the most influential psychedelic compounds of the past century or so: most notably, LSD, psilocybin (mushrooms), mescaline and the different forms of DMT, such as ayahuasca. If the conditions are right, even a moderate dose of a classic psychedelic is perceptually and somatically jarring enough to make the mysteriousness of the world feel real and urgent.
David Blacker suggests that people can use psychedelics to broaden their horizons. They can be the impetus that puts one on the path to becoming more wise. It sounds plausible, though latent in this argument is the belief that psychedelics are a substitute for the hard work—indeed the rigorous lifestyle—of philosophy. One cannot be opportunistic. This is not some tourist destination or theme park that you escape to for a weekend, suspend your disbelief in the process, get impressed by the unfamiliar spectacles, and then return to your usual routines. No! It is a choice you make for life; a choice with far-reaching implications: to live in open-endedness and to embody your thoughts through your actions.
The professor spends a lot of words trying to draw tenuous parallels between some of the ancient Greek philosophers and the potential of psychedelics, yet forgets to mention perhaps the most important lesson for individuals that we have in the Greek culture at-large: virtue. Virtue is your quality as a person, which you attain through years of practice and which you have to continuously exhibit through your deeds (unlike virtue signalling, which you do on a whimsy and requires no commitment whatsoever).
I thus find it important to stress the difficulties involved and to instil in people a sense of responsibility for what lies ahead: are you prepared to give up the life you have to pursue philosophy? Not as an academic specialisation, but as a modus vivendi. Are you, for example, ready to forgo the conventional forms of success if that is what is required to preserve the integrity of your character? Can you remain tranquil in the face of uncertainty and do you have the honesty plus courage to give up on a certain point of view, no matter how attached you are to it, if faced with compelling reasons to do so?
This is not to deny the transformative potential of psychedelics, of which I remain dubitative, but to remind folks that magical solutions do not exist. We live in an era in which individuals seek and often think they find the easy way forward, the “life hack”, the shortcut to enlightenment, the opulent consumerist experience which somehow also retains all the qualities of frugality, and so on. Everything that involves longer-term commitment has a commodified counterpart which, essentially, promises something that is not viable. For example, one can pay attention to their nutrition and channel all their efforts to a ten-year plan of discipline or they can buy this vaunted pill that doctors have designed to (i) provide all the nutrients while (ii) allowing for “cheating days” of eating burgers and whatnot. In other words: the promise is that you do not go through any discomfort but still get maximal benefits out of it. This is all bullshit writ large, yet it sells and is prevalent.
Anything that requires a long-term outlook is not going to be easy. This is not limited to philosophy. It applies to every aspect of our lives. Think about competing in sport, making prudent financial choices, learning to elucidate your thoughts in a foreign tongue, becoming a skilled programmer, playing music at a concert, training your dog and taking care of it 7 days a week and 365 days a year for the entirety of its lifetime, and so on. None of this is done without considerable yet controlled discomfort.
Commitment is a matter of one’s attitude. If you are willing to make the choice, first understand what you are getting yourself into, and then affirm you are going to deal with the consequences. Do not act haphazardly and definitely do not do it just because you got hyped up. Be meticulous and assume the responsibility of dealing with the lasting effects of your actions. Then you have what it takes to become decent at the given task and thus to be a better version of yourself. Otherwise, no substance will do the trick. What will happen instead is that you will be a fool who, like friends and relatives of mine who are no longer around, opts for a certain product under the misguided belief that it cannot possibly be abused to ultimately mess you up.
Other than forgetting about virtue, my concern with proponents of psychedelics is that they do not tell us enough about how are those substances actually going to be used. They mention rituals from times of yore, such as the mysteries at ancient Eleusina, yet do not emphasise the fact that those were a likely once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage that was done within a strict framework of religious initiation and conduct, as well as communal solidarity. There was no LSD dealer around the corner that would sell you whatever you would ask for. It was a highly controlled environment, predicated on robust hierarchies (indeed “hierarchy” means “holy rule”).
I believe someone can be elevated spiritually from exposure to substances under the careful mentorship of a mystic. A mystic is someone who commits their life to the cause. But what about our modern world in which individuals are in the habit of consuming, or binging, all sorts of things without oversight from any such mystic? I remember those times when one of my relatives would take so-called “magic” mushrooms or the extract of cacti every single day. That was not pretty and there was nothing spiritual about such unbridled abuse. It was a mindless act of self-harm that exemplified the perversion of laziness as wisdom and of freedom as recklessness.
As with the convenient presentation of the Eleusinian mysteries, I am sceptical of allusions to those much-touted indigenous tribes and their rituals. I have a strong suspicion that within those cultures there are powerful checks and clear social structures that ensure responsible use of psychedelics. Taking the concoction out of the ancient culture’s milieu, decoupling it from its religious and social functions, all but guarantees it is turned into yet another product that is instrumentalised in the service of profiteering and unceremoniously peddled to gullible hipsters.
Does this mean that everybody who uses psychedelics is irresponsible? No, not at all. Though we must not forget what kind of world we live in and how we must act carefully when dealing with non-trivial matters.
Psychedelics are a potent tool, yet a tool nonetheless: they are a possible means to a certain end, be it spiritual awakening, communal belonging, or anything else. As with all tools, they can be put to good use or be misused to the detriment of their users. No tool is ever sufficient without the person’s willingness to do the work. It is this individual responsibility that makes the difference between benign and harmful results. And no tool is fully understood without its user manual or in the absence of clear demonstration, which in this case come from long-standing traditions and the conduct of tutelary figures therein.