The Dark Side of the Psychedelic Renaissance

The psychedelic movement should be wary of the renaissance taking a turn for the worse. A bad trip, even. Medicalization efforts have stalled due to the FDA’s rejection of MDMA-assisted therapy and the hold-ups to late-stage psilocybin research, but the landscape is becoming increasingly permissible for the underground to promote ceremonies and retreats openly, whether in the US or abroad. A significant number of these establishments are run by dubious characters who really have no place leading organizations which facilitate potentially the most meaningful experience in their clients’ lives.

Back in 2021, I visited Tulum, Mexico, and reported on the Bufo Alvarius Sanctuary hotel in an article which we later turned into a short documentary. On one of the beach town’s main strips, people would see signs outside of Joe Rogan, Mike Tyson and Jim Carrey (only Tyson has admitted to smoking bufo, the highly potent psychedelic derived from secretions of the Sonoran desert toad) and walk in on a whim. Within an hour, they’d be ascending to another plain of consciousness. Shortly after, they’d be back in the wild hustle and bustle of Tulum. This practice is called speed toading. And it leaves many people destabilized, as they do not have the time and space necessary to integrate.

I kept in contact with a young Irish woman whose ceremony I’d observed, and she explained how she experienced severe paranoia in the days following – with delusions so intense that she thought she would never return to her normal self. I was recently informed that another establishment in the south-eastern Mexican paradise has now erected a giant motorway advert for bufo. “Suffering from addiction, depression, anxiety? Try Bufo Alvarius at the Bufo Healing Sanctuary,” it says. On a recent trip to the other side of Mexico, I was offered bufo on the beach by a man who was also selling beers and ceviche.

In Orlando, Florida, a new retreat center has emerged from the ashes of the disgraced Soul Quest Ayahuasca Church of Mother Earth, whose owner Chris Young would don Amazonian headdresses while living a lavish, jetset lifestyle with the proceeds from the organization, which was mostly staffed by volunteers. In the civil court case over the death of 22-year-old Brandon Begley at the center which concluded earlier this year with a $15 million judgment against Soul Quest and Young, murky details about life at the self-proclaimed church were bare for the whole world to see. (I have a forthcoming long article for VICE on all of this).

On Saturday, it was reported that a 54-year-old British woman, Maureen Rainford, died at an ayahuasca retreat center in Bolivia, after suffering from a heart attack without a doctor present. In Costa Rica, 40-year-old American Lauren Levis died after going into cardiac arrest in August after taking iboga. Her autopsy showed cannabis in her system, though it was unclear when she consumed it, but the retreat owners gave her family the run around and they found out about Levis’ death courtesy of the local police. It also emerged earlier this year that one of the top ibogaine clinics in the world had a death during their first month of opening.

All of this is to say that serious harms are being suffered in the psychedelic underground, and gray market, and that’s before talking about the more subtle issues people report from rogue shamans who are known to use the dark arts to cause ceremony participants harm. The absence of a psychedelic watchdog organization is becoming increasingly clear. It’s understandable that individuals, and others, who might consider blowing the whistle harbor fears of retaliatory lawsuits or becoming embroiled in public disputes, and therefore do not speak out. But as the psychedelic ecosystem grows, word of mouth, journalism, and the odd Twitter post do not seem fit for purpose in terms of effectively regulating a sprawling and often very messy underground.

Even where there are regulators, such as the Food and Drug Administration, they seem unable to properly regulate. Almost 160 people reportedly became sick this summer after eating dodgy psychedelic-infused chocolate bars that left dozens in hospital and potentially two dead.

With the number of people taking psychedelics – whether huge doses in ceremonies, or microdoses from chocolate bars – rising exponentially it is of course understandable that the rates of psychedelic-related harms will increase, as a likely far greater number of people experience life-changing benefits. But the current wild west situation – where suspect retreats can operate unhindered until there are well-documented deaths, or where psychedelic candy is sold in stores without any dosage information – is clearly detrimental to both the wider movement and to the public.

I recall other commentators making similar observations about so-called “ketamine bros”, with the gist of their argument being that people being high publicly on ketamine gave the psychedelic scene a bad name. But there is a difference between people enjoying themselves – albeit in a manner some find unbecoming – and actual, often avoidable harm. I certainly do not suggest that greater, or any, regulation from the FDA is the solution here. But to my mind, the current framework around underground and gray market access to psychedelics has proven largely incapable of policing its own. It’s time for a new system. What that could be, I do not know.