Magic mushroom psilocybin legalization playboy

The Future of Magic Mushrooms

The psilocybin compound is proving its benefits, but can legalization gain momentum?

Timothy Dykes

The year 2019 is the year of magic mushrooms’ resurgence. The conversation, specifically around its psilocybin compound, is growing louder—and not because people are simply looking for a reprieve from ongoing political unrest and clear signs of climate change.

Last October, John Hopkins University began clinical trials on the potential positive effects of the drug when it comes to aiding treatment-averse depression, addiction and anxiety. The results were so promising that the institution published an article arguing that psilocybin should be considered a Schedule 5 drug—as opposed to the Federal Drug Administration's current Schedule I designation—along with other low-harm drugs that are primarily used for medicine. Residents of Denver, Colorado felt so passionately about the issue that on May 7, they voted to decriminalize the drug. Less than a month later, Oakland, California’s city council unanimously concluded that consuming numerous psychedelic plants, mushrooms included, should not be deemed criminal any longer. 

But this isn’t the first time that interest surrounding psychedelics has peaked. The question is, is it realistic to predict that mushroom legalization is on the same trajectory as cannabis? Similar to cannabis, it is overcoming stigma to go from taboo to a medical alternative to now, a cash crop. The stigma is built on a history that is dense, but far more...colored. In 1955, for instance, Mycologist and Banker Robert Gordon Wasson published his article “Seeking the Magic Mushroom” in (the now defunct) Life magazine detailing his journey trying mushrooms during a religious ceremony in Oaxaca, Mexico. According to Wasson, the “divine mushrooms” made him see “the archetypes, the platonic ideals, that underlie the imperfect images of everyday life.” From its initial introduction to Western culture, the substance was understood as something more spiritually elevated than simply getting stoned. 

Although research into the drug was conducted during the 1950s and 1960s, the government discouraged scientific efforts in the 1970s as part of a backlash against substance abuse. As a Schedule I drug, psilocybin mushrooms were rendered the same category as heroin. However, psilocybin lacks any addictive attributes. Though there’s no universal experience and it ultimately depends on dosage, taking the drug can elevate one’s mood, cause mild hallucinations, and conjure introspection leading to epiphanies. Within the context of treatment, these epiphanies are meant to foster personal growth.
The benefits for me are simple: I feel present and less anxious.
Prior to rising to prominence along with LSD in the 1960s, the substance had a rich history dating back thousands of years and spanning numerous indigenous cultures. When speaking to decriminalization activists, dealers, researchers, and users, there’s a sense of humility of how they approach the drug. Charles S. Grob, a professor of Psychiatry & Biobehavioral Sciences and Pediatrics at University of California Los Angeles, conducted research into the potential benefits of psilocybin in helping cancer patients’ mental health from 2004 to 2008. In regards to the successful decriminalization campaign in Denver, he says, “It’s a call for the people of Denver to handle this in a highly responsible matter as possible and to treat these compounds with the greatest respect.” 

Along with a team of researchers and therapists, Grob administered psilocybin to 12 advanced-stage cancer patients suffering from anxiety or stress due to their condition. The study concluded that, similar to previous studies from the late 1960s and 1970s using hallucinogens, psilocybin can potentially help terminally ill patients reduce their anxiety. At the same time, the research was sure to urge that Denver should proceed with caution because “there’s potential for positive outcomes for some individuals, but there’s also potential for individuals to get into a lot of trouble.” Grob said that it will be up to “public health” institutions to ensure users are consuming it safely.

Besides Grob and recent research at New York University and John Hopkins University, activists have been busy trying to overturn laws criminalizing the substance. For Kevin Matthews, campaign director of Decriminalize Denver, his activism is partially motivated by his own personal history. While attending West Point Military Academy in 2008, he received a medical discharge due to his depression. For a few years afterwards, his life was at a standstill. In 2011, he was introduced to psilocybin mushrooms through friends. This one experience with mushrooms lead to him finding a “sense of community” and subsequently “getting his shit together.” He became more proactive about tackling his depression and ventured into self-help and spirituality. When he moved to Denver in 2017, he got connected with the decriminalization activism there. Matthews says that a key component to his advocacy was educating people and undoing the “50 years of government misinformation and propaganda.” He argues that any public health or safety concerns are vastly exaggerated. Out of all of drug cases in Denver since 2011, a tiny fraction—only 1.3 percent—were related to psilocybin. Compared to alcohol, psilocybin’s negative impact on public health is negligible. While the movement seemingly has a lot of momentum, this wasn’t always the case. The Decriminalize Denver initiative had failed to be placed on the ballot twice, and their third attempt, Initiative 301, passed by merely 1,979 votes.
Matthews is optimistic about the future of the movement but for now is devoting his attention on turning Denver into a paradigm for national action. “Our work here [now] is to show how this can work in a metropolitan area,” he says. “What are the activities we are offering? What are the classes we are offering? How are we working directly with city government?” In addition to “winning campaigns,” his broader goal is to “normalize mushrooms.” Although political success tends to come with some compromise, the activist claimed that his campaign was extra cautious about being complicit in broader agendas. They only raised $46,000 in donations and were primarily supported by New Approach PAC—a 527 nonprofit organization that pushed for marijuana legalization in Oregon and California. Before accepting help from anyone, Matthews asks. “How much does this person and their organization align with the spirit of mushrooms?” He claims that fundamentally, “mushrooms are a decentralized network.”

Matthews’ concerns speak to an emerging tension within the psilocybin community. While scientists like Grob are advocating for administering the drug in controlled environments, part of the alluring mystique of psilocybin is that it’s separate from medical institutions. Sandy*, a 44-year-old artist and college educator, has used psilocybin mushrooms as antidepressant. He micro-doses anywhere between 2 to 3 times every 10 days.“The benefits for me are simple: I feel present and less anxious,” the artist remarks. He initially was skeptical of the drug because of its stigma but after relocating to California, he met people who showed him the “other side of mushrooms.” Before starting to micro-dose, he spoke to his therapist and physician. In addition to making him more creatively perceptive, micro-dosing has allowed him to get through life events without feeling the numbness he experienced while taking traditional pharmaceuticals. He tells Playboy, “Micro-dosing helped me through the emotional horror film of divorce, while keeping me present to feel the feeling, gaining an understanding those pharmaceuticals could never offer.” 

Even if activists are highlighting how mushrooms can potentially be used as a psychological treatment, this is still very much a recreational drug. Claire*, a Los Angeles-based psilocybin mushroom dealer, says that the majority of her clients are taking magic mushrooms for standard, run-of-the-mill amusement purposes like tripping at Joshua Tree National Park. 

Just a year after being introduced to the business through her boyfriend Dave*, Claire counts a client base of 100 users. While her boyfriend has stopped dealing, she remains enthusiastic about the enterprise. “You wouldn’t really think mushrooms are illegal the way a lot customers carry on,” she laughs. In order the society to finally rid itself of the stigma, Claire believes drug consumers—like cannabis users before them—have to become more transparent about their habits. “Do shrooms with your parents,” her boyfriend suggests.
I feel like decriminalization is about freedom more or less, legalization is about capitalism.
Though the current dealer and the former dealer are supportive of decriminalization efforts, they are worried about commercialization. Smith has firsthand experience of being boxed out by larger businesses and government agencies; last year, his cannabis growhouse was shut down by the LAPD. He describes the fundamental difference between decriminalization and legalization. “Decriminalization essentially means that people aren’t risking their freedom for this, while legalization is taxed and regulated. I feel like decriminalization is about freedom more or less, legalization is about capitalism.”

And Dave’s fears aren’t unwarranted. In November, 2018, Quartz reported there was a growing backlash to Compass Pathways, a British company trying to turn psilocybin into a pharmaceutical product. Husband and wife George Goldsmith and Ekaterina Malievskaia initially created a non-profit C.O.M.P.A.S.S. in 2015. Two years later, the couple started a for-profit company called Compass Pathways and received millions to further their research into how the drug can treat depression. In a somewhat dystopian turn of events, they received financial backing from the right-wing Silicon Valley tech billionaire Peter Thiel. 

The company has patented the process of making synthetic psilocybin—a loophole of sorts because the drug itself can’t be patented since it is naturally created in nature. Even if the company plans on potentially helping people in need, their rise to prominence has simultaneously exposed how traditional business models aren’t compatible with the decentralized spirit of psychedelic culture. In December 2017, Bob Jesse, the founder of the Council on Spiritual Practices, wrote an open letter that demanded more transparency, “scientific integrity,” and for organizations not to withhold “materials or knowledge for commercial advantage.” The letter has been signed by over one hundred experts.
Bett Williams, the author of the psychedelic memoir The Wild Kindness, strongly opposes the drug being absorbed by capitalism and Western medicine. She questions whether if, when a psychedelic is taken in a clinical setting, it can still be considered a psychedelic experience. 

Williams views psychedelic experiences as a testament to freedom, and abides by her own mantra: “the mushroom is the doctor, the guide, and the nurse.” For her, taking the drug is meant for highly subjective, personal journeys that shouldn’t be influenced by cemented structures or institutions. She theorized that in a hypothetical world in which psilocybin treatment is widely available at clinics, patients “might be having an imprinted experience.” Despite supporting decriminalization, she refuses to be in the frontlines because she fears being used as “a rodeo clown” for something corporate, sinister, and fundamentally opposed to the drug’s cultural roots. Recently, she turned down an offer to speak at a queer psychedelics conference because she doesn’t care about making psilocybin more palatable for mainstream audiences. Based in the outskirts of Santa Fe, New Mexico, she says her practice is more focused on “indigenous sovereignty, land rights, and anti-racist tactics” that are part of a larger “process of decolonization.”

Meanwhile, some experts are urging caution for reasons that are more practical rather than ideological. In May, Michael Pollan published an Op-Ed in the New York Times titled, “Not So Fast On Magic Mushrooms” stressing that there needs to be more research before legalization. Dr. Diana Deister, a child psychiatrist at Adolescent Substance Use and Addictions Program (ASAP) at Boston Children’s Hospital, tells Playboy that there are “dozens of questions” that need to be answered: “Who will benefit the most? Who will have bad side effects? If depression improves with use, would bipolar depression also respond? What about patients who already have psychotic symptoms like delusions or hallucinations? How many treatments are needed?” 

These questions will surely be answered in the coming years through rigorous research. Regardless of what those studies will conclude, and the outcomes of 2020 ballot measures, what’s certain is that the culture revolving this ancient fungi is rapidly evolving into something entirely new.

*Names have been changed.

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