The compliance of science: the depoliticisation of psychedelics in mainstream culture


tacitusScientific materialism is the driving force of corporate capitalism and neocolonialism. Psychedelic political and spiritual culture stands opposed to this and by its nature is a challenge to this destructive ideology

Scientific materialism is the dominant philosophy of the modern age, and has been for over a century. The combination of science and technology as a tool, and capitalism and colonialism as the ideology driving its progress, has led to a widespread transformation of habitat and global indigenous communities. Alongside this essentially atheistic materialism, liberal secularism, originally a religiously motivated ideology that came out of the European Enlightenment, attempted to mitigate the destructive aspects of this transformation, but time and again has been cast aside, as corporate profit and nationalism remain a brutal mental and emotional driving force that has been effective in redirecting popular dissent at confrontation and crisis points, preserving the authority of establishment elites and institutions.

In the midst of these dominant ideologies, much progress has been made on a surface level, in saving and prolonging life, engineering fuel and communication pathways, journeying to other planets, a deeper understanding of the composition of the natural world, and deeper still into the very substance of matter.

Liberal secularism has also broken ties with church and state and allowed human autonomy in specific areas of life. But as ecological and social breakdown rises, and the limits of corporate capitalism are exposed, racism, sexism and bigotry have intensified. Psychological anxieties seem also to be on the increase, and extreme militant religious fundamentalism has become the focal resistance to corporate capitalism and materialism in its willingness to use violence as a reaction to the violence inherent in the system. The fundamental nature of being remains elusive for the materialists and the venom with which they attack competing ideological worldviews, particularly those of a religious or spiritual nature, is very likely to be psychologically connected to this frustration at the limits of physicalism to understand the nature of consciousness and a denial of the connection between reductionism and globalisation.

The development of psychedelics over the past 50 years offered a bridge between the physical and idealistic perception of reality, between science and religion itself, and it seemed for a time that ideas and philosophies were converging, and a political revolution was somehow linked to this, nowhere more evident than in the late-1960s and again in the late-1980s where alternative communities challenged the dominant modes of thought. But the political establishment, a mixture of traditional religious and atheistic worldviews, joined forces each time against a set of ideas that demonstrated nonconformist even revolutionary attitudes, threatening those who sought to retain control of the narrative, of the ultimate power to define reality. So laws were tightened, rebellious individuals and groups were militantly policed and imprisoned, and idealistic political resistance was attacked by all means deemed necessary.

But a new development began to take shape in the 1990s, as scientists consciously distanced themselves from the political elements connected to psychedelics and began to focus on neurochemistry and developing brain-imaging technology, which demonstrated the positive benefits of certain psychedelic substances to treat a variety of physical and psychological conditions causing distress in individuals. While alternative and more psychospiritual treatments continued, the dominant worldview found it much easier to accept this less political, more physicalist model, and the scientists focusing on this aspect seem to have become the spokespeople for the resurgence of psychedelics in the mainstream media with calls for medical licensing rather than an outright end to prohibition. Now it seems that the very notions of spirituality, religion, shamanism, even spiritual political views once intimately bound with psychedelic use, are being marginalised in favour of this sanitised, corporate friendly model of psychedelic health.

The risks with taking the reductionist, scientific approach is that at the very moment when a libertarian culture, with its open-hearted view of spirituality, sexuality and multiculturalism, is being attacked in quite vicious ways by the ascendancy of post-fascist ideology, psychedelic science is playing handmaiden to these forces by remaining apolitical and hoping these repressive forces will grant some licensing to allow the doctors to prescribe psychedelics as medical treatment, while researching the effects of these substances on brain chemistry. The possibility that these substances could provide the revolutionary perspective that might challenge the evidently repressive forces, perhaps even offer insight that might aid activists and campaigners in looking for alternative methods of challenging these tyrannical structures, is being pushed aside for a different kind of political expediency, one that is compliant to the forces of repression.

Can psychedelic, political and spiritual activists who want a complete end to prohibition find common ground with scientists and politicians? Can an integrated worldview to face the ecological and social challenges of the 21st century be created? Or is it time to recognise that legalisation of psychedelic substances will never be granted in this present system and to recognise the nature of the challenge and to find common cause with activists rather than government-approved scientists? The cognitive freedom to explore consciousness and create spontaneous recreational spaces, including non-materialist, non-rational, even post-factual perspectives, must be fearlessly expressed, not only in the face of the political establishment, but also the scientific establishment, and the reductionist ideology which has become prominent in the field of psychedelic research must be challenged. The transformation of the social and political order, which is visibly sinking into totalitarianism as it destroys the planet and any semblance of civilisation and humanity, no longer allows for politeness in these matters.

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Stuck inside of Glastonbury with the Facebook blues again

TypewriterI was up all night trying to find a way to explain what I’m feeling, to try to find a way to salve my conscience, to make sense of the images that keep flashing before me on the radiating screen so many of us have become so accustomed to feeding on, images of death and destruction, of fear and frustration, of warring factions and intractable discussions that seem to lead nowhere. But my sense of self-preservation is trying just as hard to prevent me from speaking these words, which seem to form deep in the back of my brain, screaming for their moment in the limelight, for just one chance to set the record straight and call this foolishness out. Because I don’t want to be the one to face the fire. I don’t want to be the one to take the blame. I’d rather some hack who gets paid to work this shit out could take up the slack, to break the chain of conformity that keeps us held back in this blind game we all play. Yet I can’t hold back forever. I can’t let these emotions stagnate and fester within me. I’ve got to get some peace of mind, so I’m spilling the words out onto the page, just to get it out there so that maybe someone else might be able to relate.

It gets stranger by the second, with every link to every news story, from any kind of website, whether respected or not, it almost doesn’t matter anymore what’s really true, as more and more it seems what’s true is what you believe to be true, facts and sources seem to no longer matter to the multitude, if they ever really did. We used to trust experts, at least they had earned that right. But many experts betrayed that trust, so now many ignore them, and place their faith on people with no schooling, who would betray us just as readily, but don’t even have the skills to check their sources. I never reckoned on it getting this confusing, and I’m further than ever from a solution. Thoughts and connections arise inside of me, but from the spark in my brain to the tip of the tongue, something seems to get lost in that gap between inspiration and realisation. And I’m at a loss what to do next. I need to find a way to get through this sense of doubt. I need to find a resolution, to the endless recording playing out inside of me, to tell a story that makes sense to me.

But the more information that gets thrown at me, the more I willingly digest this diet of unchecked facts vomiting out of social media every day, the less the world makes sense to me. In this state of confusion, with the knowledge that terrible things go on in the world, that the modern world’s wealth was made at the expense of many other civilisations, this terrible knowledge breeds like weeds strangling my identity, smothering my sense of self. Webs of deceit wrap around me, and I feel false in saying anything with any certainty. Who am I to hold a point of view? What do I know? So I hold my tongue for fear of shame, too afraid to speak, lest I make a statement or give an opinion which ends up proving itself wrong at some future date, which could be near or far but would hang around me like a noose. I thought I had it clear, how it all works, but I can’t see the pattern anymore. It all seems random with no discernable design. I feel like a pawn in someone else’s game, sacrificed for someone else’s greater good. But sacrificed by whom and for what purpose?

This cave I live in is the only concrete thing that I’ve got right now. It’s where I hide from the world outside to get some peace of mind. Is it cowardice to remain so stuck in this protective shell? Maybe it’s a blessing to be in this position, but it’s also a drag in some way, to feel so isolated for most of the day from the throng of activity, while I ponder these thoughts about the state of the world. I’d rather express positive thoughts, but the words that want to come out are like the distant cries of a lost soul, and quickly provoked they can sound like incoherent rage. So I shut them inside and these thoughts begin to take their toll on me. It feels like I’m suppressing my rage for the common good, that the world will go on any way whether I speak or not. It seems pointless taking sides when all sides seem the same viewed from different angles. Is it cynical? I never thought I’d be this down on humanity. I still experience the beauty and the joy. But it gets harder to reach with every bit of bullshit news. It’s the bullshit that’s the problem, and how it makes me feel.

But there is real news, I don’t doubt that the world’s on the brink of some societal calamity unless we get our collective shit together. Our habitat is in a state of imminent collapse because of our actions and inactions and the brutal wars are incessant. The fears are not doom-laden prophecies, they’re demonstrable facts. But I still don’t know how I’m supposed to react to the information presented to me. So I often ponder in silence, in doubt, in hesitation, and I seem to slink further and further away from the edge of normality and risk alienation with each passing day in my comfortable cave. I don’t want that to be the all of me, so I am bound to resist and the only way I know how right now is to speak words, however broken and bruised and twisted they seem. I may be deemed a waste of space by those numbed enough not to feel affected by the violence and terror out there. But in spite of the opinion of others, as sure as I can be, all I can do with certainty is to voice what feels true to me, and try to express what I’m feeling, so that maybe others who feel the same way can find connection, to voice their own truth in any way they know how. This is how resistance to mind-numbing conformity gains strength and meaning.

Every time I get the chance, no matter how unschooled and uncouth I might sound, I must speak; every time I almost succumb to the trance of being fed information without connection, I must speak; every day I witness a violation of what we profess to hold sacred, I must speak; every day I experience another ideal scarred and punctured, I must speak. I must speak. I must speak. The very act of voicing the emotions that are stirring inside me, is not to establish anything other than the right to express how I am feeling right now, which helps to remind me that I am real, that in expressing I can begin the process of reconnection even from the cave. Because connection does not only happen in real time, ironically it can also happen with words read by someone in another space. Emotions are the avenue to meaning and connection, they cannot be allowed to rest inside a shell.

The dream of peace we once nurtured together lies shattered, with no how, no why, just endless repeating of disconnected signals on the wifi. We have to take up the slack, find the thread, make the connections, fight back. Horrific missives so insistent they become numbing to receive, cannot force us to become zoned out as we feed on the daily propaganda news and believe what we are told to believe. I thought I understood, but I must not be afraid to say that I’m at a dead end right now and I need a leap of faith. I really need to find the courage somewhere inside, but I need first to get the festering thoughts out and to boldly share them with the world for my own peace of mind. I’m older now and I’m supposed to have a better idea of the story, but the story I knew no longer makes sense to me, so it seems I need to first clear out the dusty pages in the back of my mind.

I do not want to become hardened and rigid to the changing times. It saddens me this tribalism of left and right that seems to be growing incessant with each passing day. This extremity of thought, with people itching to take sides and to hate the other and to feel justified in doing so. These bubbles we live in just to make us feel righteous are prisons of illusion, doesn’t anyone see? They are not representative of reality. Back scratching only gets you so far. We need more than this to move us through hard times. We might not want to feel the pain of the other side, but unless we learn to see beyond the comforting lies we tell each other, we’ll be left unable to rise to meet the tide as it washes away what’s left of what we used to hold dear. There are hard words to say, which might make the difference when push comes to shove. Revolutions do not come to pass without resistance, but it’s evolution, a paradigm shift that is desperately needed and must arise from all of this repetition. Maybe these words that I speak can find meaning, jolt me out of this cave and into connection, and a way to break this spell of illusion. Some clarity at least, to find some common truth along the way, and to hope I might inspire others trapped in their own mind prisons to find their own way of expressing what is real inside of them.

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Acid Drops: Andy Roberts – A Review

Acid DropsAndy Roberts already has a definitive place in the recent resurgence of interest and research into psychedelic substances, having penned a well-received historical account of LSD in his 2012 book Albion Dreaming. Subtitled, A Popular History of LSD in Britain, it recounts the history of LSD from its synthesis in the laboratory of Albert Hoffman, to the British intelligence experimentations as a tool of the military, early research and use by psychiatrists on their patients, right through to the banning of the substance and the subsequent explosion of interest in the 1960s that led to the “hippie” counterculture. It is more or less a chronological account, and it is never more interesting than when recounting the continuing development of the psychedelic scene in the 1970s. It is here where Roberts’s own experiences give the historical analysis a personal confirmation. This is necessary because the propaganda and policing of this most wondrous of substances has distorted the accounts of the names and the places, so correcting many misconceptions and false accusations concocted by media, police and politicians becomes essential. In Albion Dreaming, Roberts mentions familiar names and places to anyone with a passing interest in the history of LSD. Operation Julie, the police operation that broke the huge production of LSD in the UK in the 1970s is detailed, as is the UK visit of the acclaimed Beat poet Allen Ginsberg in 1967, where he wrote his epic LSD poem, Wales Visitation.

In Acid Drops, many of the historical characters and episodes contained in Albion Dreaming are naturally present. But what Andy does in Acid Drops feels like the metaphorical mirror of an acid trip itself. The linear, sober analysis of Albion Dreaming is replaced by a looser and deeper, more malleable account of the history and the effect of Hoffman’s so-called “problem child”. Dr Ben Sessa, one of the pioneers of the modern resurgence of interest in LSD, gives a foreward and he speaks of the unexpected benefit of the enforced break that prohibition and policing created in the 80s and 90s, from the heady and wacked out days of the 60s and 70s, with its sprawling and defiant trip literature, UFO sightings, free festivals and all, to the modern incarnation, which is to investigate the effects of these drugs from a scientific perspective. There is the natural reticence of the scientist to go too far into the crazy detail of the subjective psychedelic experience, or of what less skilled minds might uncover within. But Andy, being someone who was steeped in that earlier history, has no fear to tread or re-tread there, and it is a testament to his own level-headedness and willingness to question what he finds without completely relinquishing the weirdness, which gains both the respect of Sessa and simultaneously keeps hold of the thread of the counterculture and the very strangeness of the experience, giving it a relevance to the present popularity of psychedelic research within academia and in the general public. And how apt that the book is given an afterward by the occultist, chaos magician and well-respected psychedelic explorer Julian Vayne, who also reminds us of the importance of anchoring the transcendent experience into the everyday reality, to ground some of the luminosity, inspiration and all-out weirdness into a constructive use and as an approach to one’s everyday life.

There are many highlights in this book and the names and places read like a glossary of UK psychedelia, which will either be familiar or instructive to anyone who wishes to understand the history of the UK psychedelic scene of the time. For me the in-depth account of the creation of Allen Ginsberg’s poem, Wales Visitation, from his ingestion of LSD, to the initial sketches while tripping and finally into the completion of the poem itself, gives a unique account of the creative process, not only of one of the greatest poets of the 20th century, but also as an example of someone who was able to artfully and confidently bridge the stream-of-consciousness and mystical states of the psychedelic experience with the conventional world and its often resistant and jaundiced view of the acid head. Never is this more obvious than when Ginsberg reads out the poem on the Conservative American polemicist William F Buckley’s TV talk show, which is available for all to see on YouTube. Buckley finds he cannot overtly mock its poetic brilliance and so ends with the faint praise “I kinda liked that”.

But it’s not all sweetness and light. The infamous acid casualties are not as rare as some aficionados would like to believe and drop outs, people who could not let go of the dreams and visions and were stranded in the psychedelic liminal space, of illusions and delusions, can also be used, and have been used, as an excuse to condemn not only the individuals and the drug, but also the necessity of the irrational non-ordinary states to our creativity. Roberts himself is no stranger to the dark side of the psychedelic experience. He begins the book with an account of his first LSD trip, which became a terrifying ordeal and it is this perhaps which gives the book and his subsequent experiences such grounding. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger they say. I would say those who are damaged by the negative experiences can become dead to the world in some way, whereas to survive such experiences with rational mind intact with an ability to communicate the experience gives one an insight and empathy that can come in handy not only in negotiating other psychedelic experiences, but also in relating with others who have confusing, outright delusional and frightening experiences. It is Andy’s sober, unsentimental compassion that shines through the book and it is his own ability to communicate these experiences in a way that does not get lost in the strangeness that has made him such a popular feature of the biennial academic and scientific conference, Breaking Convention.

His own psychedelic synchronicities are amusing and telling. Few who have any full-on psychedelic trip can escape those subjective feelings of fatedness or synchronicities that often seem to occur. Some get freaked out, some ignore them and cast them off as “mere” coincidence. Andy recounts his experiences with both a sense of reverence and objectivity, which is a fine balancing act. Embarking on various trips through the 70s with set intentions and discovering along the way some seeming result of the intention, is a feature of at least three experiences he recalls, such as when he recounts discovering rubber ducks on a beach after reading about a ship sinking with a cargo of rubber ducks in the Pacific, finding a Pink Floyd scrawled in pink on a piece of wood in the middle of a detour on a country road after listening to a Pink Floyd album, and witnessing the aftermath of a car crash after drawing the card of Death in a tarot reading, all after taking LSD.

Could these seemingly connected occurrences, so often intensified during the psychedelic experience (and in deep meditation and visualisation techniques) point to some kind of link between the fabric of reality and consciousness, or are they merely simultaneous arisings, the so-called synchronicity of Jungian psychology, rather than any evidence of cause and effect? Perhaps they are really nothing more than an erroneous sense of agency we feel, brushing up against the philosophical actuality of material determinism, which noted neuroscientists and philosophers such as Sam Harris and Daniel Dennett are so fond of discussing. There are no conclusive answers, but these are subjects we should not shy away from, and neither should scientists. It cannot be left to the naive, to the credulous or to the paranoid and Andy is brave enough to risk divulging. Healthy and light-hearted scepticism rather than cynicism is needed and a holistic understanding is preferable to conventional linear approaches, with a compassion for our natural curiosity, for our fragility as human beings, our vulnerability and our earnest desire to understand. All should be taken into account in these investigations, all should be understood in context of present knowledge and in the context of what is anecdotally suggested.

Another highlight for me (and there are many more names and events that I do not have the time and space to go into, but which make the book such an important anthology and testament to psychedelic history and the psychedelic experience), is the interview that Andy gives with the psychedelic author Liz Elliott and her account of her time in Algeria in the autumn of 1970 with Timothy Leary, who had fled the US authorities to seek sanctuary with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver. This is a fascinating, illuminating documentary of the time and of these characters with their charisma and imperfections laid bare, weaving the psychedelic and the political turbulence of the time into an adventure story that is the stuff of legend, giving insight into the gritty, drug-fuelled outlaw nature of those who stood up to the tyranny of authoritarianism. Another such account is with the former LSD chemist and psychedelic advocate Casey Hardison, whose account of his experiences having been arrested and sentenced to 20 years imprisonment for producing vast quantities of LSD to turn on minds and spread consciousness, and who catalogued a meticulous ideological defence, is also a vital part of the modern story of drug prohibition and the mindset of authoritarian western governments and law enforcement.

In posting his own creative prose and poetry, Andy Roberts is also bolder here in his second book on LSD. These creative interludes are important because of their familiarity. Their literary similarity to so much noted psychedelic literature published over the years is evident. Straight society might scoff at such surreal meanderings, but there is a syntax and imagery that, while it may jar with the more rational and ordered literary critic, will nevertheless be familiar to anyone who has taken psychedelics and may have sought to express the experiences creatively, rather than give a solely objective account. But even here Andy is sparse and succinct, one piece a short account of a particularly inspiring early LSD trip, the other a Kerouac-like travelogue, which still retains the dry wit and unique rhythms of contemporary English language mixed in with acid-tinged imagery. And finally, while musing on so many historical figures, Andy takes the opportunity to deconstruct a more recent myth, that of the co-discoverer of DNA, Francis Crick, taking LSD and discovering the double helix through visualising it in a trip. He does not dismiss the story entirely, but he meticulously investigates the journalist’s background and possible motives, the historical account from contemporaries of Crick, and he concludes that, though nothing can be stated as definitive, it is highly unlikely Crick would have taken LSD at the time he made the discovery. This is journalistic work of the highest standard, which is why Andy is held in such high regard, both by scientists and mystics.

Acid Drops is needed at this time. It is important that the resurgence of interest and research into psychedelics does not become defined solely by a reductionist, materialist, scientific approach, as important as that approach is to ground the experience in the language and understanding of the rational. The history and the cultural value of the experience is beyond that, in many ways it is beyond an ordered definition. It is by its nature resistant to order, the weirdness and radical nature of the characters and their experiences cannot be allowed to be categorised as separate and distant from our daily existence. It cannot be isolated from our present experience. Investigations into the nature of this substance and the messy, often discordant nature of humanity struggling against the strictures of an authoritarian society are often at odds with societal evolution. Disorder is as intrinsic to the creative human experience as order and we can only get a handle on the healthy societal use of these substances when we are able to bring the darkness of our unconscious mind to light and recognise also our shadows.

Much can be learned from Acid Drops and from Andy Robert’s approach, his meticulousness, clarity and courage in cataloguing all aspects of the psychedelic experience, both historical and anecdotal, including his own; his affection for the times, the places and the people involved, both the celebrated and the often nameless and derided, and his willingness to both accept the mythology as a necessary part of the journey, without getting too lost in the absoluteness that others have often claimed for such experiences. This is a vital addition to the growing body of psychedelic literature and stands as an anthropological and sociological testament to the resilience and genius of this compound and its effect on humanity. I would recommend it to anyone who wishes to educate themselves in the history, experience and use of this most fascinating of substances, and who may wish to join in the campaign to end the blight of prohibition, which has destroyed so many lives and which has only temporarily halted the inevitability of human progress and the understanding gained from its use.

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Challenging media narratives in discussions of psychedelics

Medium is the Message

Marshall McLuhan, media and cultural theorist, who coined the term “The Medium is the Message”

One of the difficulties in writing about Breaking Convention, the biennial gathering of scientists, academics, shamans and psychedelic explorers researching the use of many psychoactive substances, is that of correctly placing it in the context of the present legal condition of drug prohibition, the moral climate of suspicion and my own experiences with various psychoactive substances over many years. What I have witnessed in the past 11 years, since attending my first psychedelic conference in the UK, the groundbreaking Exploring Consciousness held in Bath in 2004, is the growth of scientific study and historical and anthropological research on a wide variety of psychoactive substances that have been made illegal to use, and remain so despite growing evidence of their medical, psychological and social value. This work has often been initiated and continues in the US, but the UK has also nurtured and maintained a psychedelic culture, and has been blessed with talented and courageous scientists who have been able to translate that quest into solid scientific evidence that is of great value in opening official doors.

In the intervening years, I have seen organisations such as MAPS and Oxford’s Beckley Foundation amass a wealth of evidence for a scientific and legal case for ending prohibition, helped by campaigning groups such as Transform. But despite some media attention and a few positive articles, the overarching media narrative and political rhetoric remains resolutely prohibitionist. So we have this curious situation of scientists presenting research on the margins of legality, often with grudging government approval and often secretively it would seem, outside the legal framework. Along with those who take psychedelics for cognitive exploration, for recreation or as part of a religious ritual, many citizens are flouting the law, forming part of a growing and identifiable counterculture that has its roots in 1960s counterculture and presently existing with some rebelliousness outside the mainstream spotlight and in a sort of psychedelic netherworld, avoiding the intense public attention that might also attract visits from hysterical journalists and overzealous police officers, but which might also result in a fruitful dialogue were it ever allowed to take its place in mainstream media discussion.

It is this tacit acceptance of drug use that the much-derided Peter Hitchens is perhaps referring to when he says we already live in a decriminalised state. It is just that personal economic wealth more often than not protects one from the possibility of legal censure, while violence from the state is most likely to be specific to areas of poverty, with ethnic origin also being a determining factor in who is subject to that violence, which is also directed at political activists, who often forcefully challenge legality and legitimacy. Morally, the use of drugs deemed illegal or decriminalised, is seen de facto as causing harm, and perhaps those who feel this way also feel the same way about alcohol, as having the potential for deep destructiveness (which is scientifically one of the most destructive psychoactives), but which gets a pass simply because of its legal status, as the rights of an individual within the legal framework are protected to a certain extent.

The organisers of Breaking Convention, academics and scientists from respected universities, have done a marvellous and courageous job in bringing three conferences over six years to the UK, inviting speakers from around the world to discuss their latest research, whether it be the neurochemical pathways activated by DMT use, the indigenous methods and rituals in the use of ayahuasca or iboga, or the psychological benefits of counselling in the treatment of post-traumatic stress using MDMA. All have been and continue to be of great use in presenting an evidence-based case for an end to the war on drugs and halting the destructive effect of prohibition, which engenders in any person interested in these substances a sense of excitement both that this research exists and also that there exists a possibility of becoming personally involved in further research.

Of course there is also a growing sense of anticipation of the possibility that these substances may soon be treated as any pharmaceutical drug would, as legitimate pathways to health and wellbeing, in a world that has overcome its irrational fear of the harms that these substances can do if abused, and that a change in the law is imminent, or at least not too far in the distance. I have often thought the same myself, and the scientific evidence would seem to be definitive to me of their relative benefits and harms. The case for legalisation, or at the very least decriminalisation and medical licensing, may be strong from a scientific point of view, but the moral and ethical case is struggling to challenge prevailing assumptions of how a proper society should function.

I am not as hopeful as I’d like to be that these assumptions can be challenged without an overarching political narrative that highlights and critiques existing norms of behaviour and moral assumptions about cognitive liberty and mystical experience. The challenges must come in all fields, but in law, science, media and government (an extension of law) false moral assumptions are at their most acute, since this is where rules of behaviour are established and preserved. An analysis of systemic power and intransigent worldviews is necessary to explain the difficulties in these most human of motives to wish to explore altered states being prohibited within law and dismissed in mainstream media. A more radical political narrative in the general narrative of psychedelic discussions is needed to challenge assumptions and create better undertanding.

In 2015, at Breaking Convention, I presented a talk that attempted to explain the resistance in political life and mainstream media, to the use of these substances in public life. It was the first talk I have delivered to the public on this matter in this form. I felt privileged to be part of the set-up, among so many distinguished scientific and academic voices, and perhaps this led to me being overawed by the occasion, so my presentation did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. I was speaking at the same time Professor David Nutt delivered a talk in the main auditorium, along with novelist Anna Hope’s equally popular talk on Radical Uncertainty in the other main hall, so I spoke to barely 20 people.

My general premise is that there are forces and trends at work which it is important for us to identify and challenge, that make the possibility of prohibition ending a more difficult prospect than simply making the science case for health and wellbeing. There are powerful self-interested parties at work, lobbyists in the House of Commons, House of Lords and other religious institutions that find the idea of drug liberalisation problematic at the very least, outright scandalous at worst. The issue has never solely been about science or rational argument, it has also been about the maintaining of a power structure that serves a narrow strata of society, and the irrational fears that those in positions of power instill in those who they have co-opted, wittingly or unwittingly, into maintaining the structure of “how things should be”. Psychedelics open us up to the myriad possibilities of interpreting the world in ways that exist outside the framework of the materialist corporate mindset, and since mainstream media is driven by the concerns and assumptions of corporate materialism, anything that challenges that does not rest easy on the page or in discussions.

But in order to successfully challenge these assumptions on evidence, perhaps a meticulous study of mainstream media stories on psychedelics is needed and a deeper psychological and sociological dissection of the language used and the type of media presented, as well as identifying the common concerns, fears and prejudices around the effects, both individual and communal, of the use of certain psychedelics. At present this cannot happen, or is not happening, in mainstream media and while such experiences are openly discussed at festivals and in general within music and art culture, there is perhaps need of an academic structure that can present these discussions on a more solid foundation, so that in any mainstream discussion of psychedelics, the cultural as well as scientific case can be made. The narrative cannot be determined solely by the corporate materialist mindset. It is this ideology more than anything, that needs to be challenged.

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Beyond good and evil: post-identity political and philosophical thoughts inspired by the words of Zen monk Ryōkan



Where beauty is, then there is ugliness;
where right is, also there is wrong.
Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent;
delusion and enlightenment condition each other.
Since olden times it has been so.
How could it be otherwise now?
Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other
is merely realising a scene of stupidity.
Even if you speak of the wonder of it all,
how do you deal with each thing changing?
Ryōkan (Zen monk, 1758–1831)

All the politics and analytic philosophy can be, for now it can just be. All the righteous anger and the hatred and division into us and them can be, all the love and peace and tranquility can be in the same space at the same time, no division except in our distorted minds, only if we choose to divide through words and try to define that which struggles to be defined, that maybe cannot be defined (yet still I try), trying to make sense of our trauma, our fearful lies, rising in intensity to the inevitable collision and calamity that awaits us liked a doomed and blighted destiny.

All the fear is in my mind, and my body feels raw sensations which I try and fail to interpret through my conditioning. But I have the fortune to know, however it came to me, that I am not only my body, or what the world conceives my body to be, I am not my mind, or what received wisdom conceives mind to be. The world of form, of judgment, of present day society’s conception of truth, is just a glitch in the fabric of reality.

Through shifting symbols and signs, in ever-greater complexity, competing definitions of good and evil become part of a twisted history. Such illusions cannot be challenged directly, to challenge directly and forcefully is to become enmeshed in the web, so if I leave it be and let it pass around and through me, it will not pull me under unnecessarily.

I cannot struggle to escape quicksand, ever more confused and distressed, sinking deeper and further away from the simplicity of isness, with a mind full of increasingly fraught complexity, foolishly choosing to believe what present day society tells me I am, what impolite society makes of me. I must instead learn to wade through resistance mindfully.

And what is this resistance but the projection of shadows I cast through my own inability to see what is intrinsically a broken part of me? I am not truly fashioned by this ramshackle construct of society unless I choose to be. It’s only a story that keeps on telling me, and as long as I keep telling myself this story it also defines me. Stuck in the middle, willingly, with all sides claiming a piece of me. And I react, offering broken pieces of myself scornfully in return.

Yet it can only be as it has to be. I cannot grasp the truth without grasping what lies close around it, cannot have friend without enemy. I do not need to live with a mind divided unless I choose to. Yet still I get caught intermittently in the rights and wrongs of the form I was given and took to, the race, class, creed, sex and gender identity foisted on me, which I clothe myself with and have pinned on me again and again, sometimes to suit other agendas unbeknownst to me, shifting from moment to moment by my own and others’ estimation of me based on illusory grasping of that which has no intrinsic existence, yet through which a kind of existence abides.

This so-called privilege, named by those who, wittingly or unwittingly, assume their own privilege, a power game played reactively, this attachment to signs and symbols is illusory, it thwarts us all from being the fullest expression of our collective isness, which is all we need to be to escape the delusion of history

Stranded in our unchosen realities, beyond superficial definitions, this privilege we all share, to exist, to know ourselves in this moment, from moment to moment, beyond language, opinion, discrimination and division, this true privilege to live cannot be reduced by pleasure or pain, by domination or submission, it is beyond explanation.

This power of subjective definition exists only in relation to itself, active or passive, it exerts a grip on its own reflection, subjective or objective, it is empty of content, fundamentally it only exists as a creation of the rational mind, which is itself a concept bound by time, a faltering construct of an I which has no intrinsic a priori existence despite Kantian claims to the contrary. And neither does that definition, ironically constructed with words fashioned in part subjectively and rationally and vaguely consciously.

Beyond confusion, I see that I am the nothing that has found itself becoming something, a living being expressing isness, yet yearning to be known and to know in a space beyond words, beyond symbols, beyond signs, a voiceless voice which embraces irony in the space that poetry provides, dancing on the demarcation points of history and the notion of essential identity. And in a moment, words spewing forth and liquid in their levity, I am at peace, embracing inevitable oblivion by being one who cannot properly define, yet who knows there is more to us than our identity and knowing that I must speak words, and make signs and define symbols as I am compelled, so isness can be realised.

On such ironies this essential truth I know resides.

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Green politics on the margins: revolution still needed

I grew up in a safe Labour seat in Islington, north London, considered by the righwing press to be one of the hotbeds of champagne socialism, but which was and still is in many parts a strong, working class and ethnically diverse area. Jeremy Corbyn has been the MP for Islington north for 22 years and was one of the most vocal opponents of the Iraq war. Even as I marched against the Afghanistan and Iraq wars, I knew that the seat would remain his and recognised that he, like Tony Benn, was prepared to stay in the party and fight for traditional Labour values, even in the face of the increasing shift to neoliberal policies. At the time I voted Green and though it made no difference in the national elections, we did manage to vote in a Green councillor.

Since then I have moved to Glastonbury, which is in the constituency of Wells, a traditional Conservative area, which has been held by the Lib Dem MP Tessa Munt on a slim margin of 800. In this election she risks losing her seat to the Conservative candidate James Heappey, and ex-soldier who has been part of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, a man who believes in the free market and that David Cameron is doing a good job in the country. The thought of this man becoming MP and adding to the possibility that Cameron can form a majority government, fills me with dread. Because I am so opposed to such a thing happening, I have considered voting tactically for Tessa, who seems a decent person, even though she represents another neoliberal party who I have absolutely no time for.

This is the problem both with the present first-past-the-post system and parliamentary politics in general, because there is no chance of the Green party candidate, Jon Cousins, getting in. Cousins and the Greens do have an alternative vision. It is incomplete and there are some aspects with which I disagree. But at least there is some humanity, absent in the other three, who play the poltical game and buy into the neoliberal outlook, the abeyance to the market above human and environmental needs, and who are supported by a compliant media dependent on the corporate advertising revenues that make the whole electoral game a self-referential system that excludes the real needs of the people.

Too many people are still in thrall to this corrupt system. Too many still believe that the unbearably slow and miniscule changes that Ed Miliband seems to believe are the only way that politics can proceed, will be enough to tackle the problems of the day. But they are not enough. Whether Tessa Munt or James Heappey gets in, there will be no change to the system that creates such damage to the world. There may be small significant changes to my life in Glastonbury, but surely that is not what national politics should be about. Where is the great vision, the radical change needed? Jon Cousins can at least see the fact that we need that change. We may not agree on some specific details, and we may disagree on whether the present voting system is adequate to effect that change, but at least I could imagine talking with him about these things and have done on a couple of occasions during the local hustings.

I feel that if I am going to vote, I could vote for Jon Cousins or for David Dobbs, the Birthday Party candidate, an old raver who spoke at an election hustings I attended last night, who spoke about the Criminal Justice Bill that shut down so many raves that had a deep effect on British culture before Thatcher put a stop to this, as she undermined the miners and unions. He spoke in a language I could understand. he sounded like a human being, not a politician. I’d like to see a world where a man (or woman) like that could speak on behalf of the people of this country. But you should have seen the faces of some of the gnarled old Tory voters who looked at him as if he were from another dimension.

He has no chance of getting in but, unfortunately, neither does Jon Cousins, even though he has been a Green councillor and is well known in the community. This just isn’t good enough given the problems we collectively face. I know we can do better than this and need to do better. The Green party has some good people working for them, and a vision of a better society. But it will take a whole lot more to attract the attention of people whose lives have been limited by the neoliberal agenda, which has nothing to do with being liberal, but is all about continuing in handing power over to fraudulent financial institutions. I’m looking forward to talking about these issues among permaculturists, social justice campaigners and everyday people at Passing Clouds on Tuesday May 5, where we’ll be showing clips and discussing Green politics and the need for revolution.

Permaculture Picturehouse @ Passing Clouds, Dalston presents:

Election special: Does democracy need a revolution? Hackney South and Shoreditch prospective Green MP Charlotte George will respond to local voter Russell Brand’s call for a spiritual revolution, and will explain why voting is vital to effective change, and how she would seek to engage dissenting voters who believe radical solutions are needed, but who have no faith in the electoral process.

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Without dialogue, revolution will be as tyrannical as democracy


Our political system is broken, but convincing others before the whole shithouse goes up in flames, seems to be a monumental task. It has been corrupted from outside and within. It is being falsely propped up by a compliant media, itself distorted beyond recognition by the influence of corporations, all underpinned by a debt-based banking system that is driving humanity to destroy the very habitat we all depend on for life. We are faced with an election to vote in MPs who so are limited in the scope of what they can achieve that they are reduced to tinkering around the edges, when what we need is a radical overhaul. But that radical overhaul has its own dangers. The fact remains that parliamentary politics for now remains the dominant ideology and dominant structure administering the lives of millions of people. What happens to it will directly affect the lives of millions of people. To ignore this is to bury one’s head in the sand and to wish reality were different.

What has developed as an alternative to the dominant ideology over the past 20 years is a counterculture that knows the problems we collectively face, itself originating in pioneering ecological and political structures developed in the 1960s in the US, UK and Europe. It has often called loudly and clearly for humanity to wake up and build alternatives outside the mainstream culture. These groups have been vibrant, revolutionary, often self-sustaining, and willing to risk life and limb to stop the use of fossil fuels, nuclear, GM and other damaging or reckless practices. Often they have achieved marginal success, but they have also brought with them their own problems of how to administer such pioneering ideas to the millions of people used to the present, corporate-based system we have.

The Occupy movements that sprang up in 2011 were merely the latest example of this problem of extending, often beautiful ideas from the local, to the global. Groups such as these have found it difficult to convince the majority of people that they are anything more than extreme ideologies. People have naturally decided to stick with what they know, however unsatisfactory and often damaging. And those who suffer most simply do not have the ability to effect change in their own lives while oppressed by this system, and often are passive recipients of the compassion and generosity of such revolutionaries and on a wider scale the public who remain within the system.

This has been a major stumbling block to reaching a wider audience, who are still in thrall to mainstream corporate culture, which seems to offer so much superficially. There is a duality, an “us and them”, which ironically ends up handing power back to the very people controlling the systems that are controlling society and maintaining the conditions that are destroying the biosphere to the point of collapse. The kind of idea that is so attractive, that says we don’t need “them”, “we” can build our own systems is built on the very duality it seeks to reach beyond. This has brought further divisions, which has led to internecine struggles, often vicious ideological disputes that have become personal, and it has weakened the movement’s ability to reach a wider audience. Without engagement with those we most find disagreement with, there can be no real progress. This is a psychological and spiritual truism that is often ignored.

So, in order to effect meaningful and constructive change throughout society, we are left with the having to interact and deal with the guardians of power, however abusive the administration of that power has become, with a parliamentary democracy that our ancestors fought and died for the right to engage with and to vote in, a right to vote that has become sacrosanct, even as it has increasingly lost its legitimacy, as politicians increasingly become bureaucrats unable to hold corporations to account, often acting on their behalf, while so many abstain from the political process entirely and insist that change has to come from people working together to make radical progress.

But how would that change look outside the system? If the banking system were to collapse, if the UK was to suffer a major calamity in the form of a terrorist attack or environmental catastrophe, if food or fuel suddenly became scarce, the idea that there would be some kind of velvet revolution may be appealing, but unlikely to happen so smoothly. In fact, it is likely to be calamitous. Many people will get hurt, many will suffer, good people who have not harmed anyone. That may be what some hope for, insisting that the poison has to be expunged and that, like chemotherapy, some good cells have to be destroyed in order to rid the body politic of the disease with which it is afflicted.

But this belief can be seen as glib and irresponsible, often mouthed by those who either live comfortable lives, or who have placed themselves out of the system entirely, a process which realistically only a few could do without causing greater harm. I have often found myself believing the very things I am questioning in this piece. But I can see also that unless we deal directly with the structure that presently holds power, we cannot hope to make the radical changes necessary to our political system and to the way we live. If the structure of society collapses it will be disastrous, many people will die, this is not hyperbole, it is the plain fact. It is not accidental that police are being increasingly militarised. They are indeed preparing for full-scale war against their own people.

But if we remain as we are, we are equally looking at societal and ecological disaster. So what can we do to avoid either fate? The only way around this ominous future must be an engagement in the political process, engagement with those who do hold power, even if that does not necessarily mean that we choose to vote, if we believe, as I do, that the democratic process is, in effect, rigged to maintain the status quo. How do we deal with abuse of power on an individual level? Communication before violence is the preferred method. So how can we engage with those who will enter that anachronistic chamber called the Houses of Parliament on May 8? It is only through communication with those who actually hold this power, however corrupted it is, that we can hope to implement the many evolutionary and pioneering ideas that the counterculture has developed, to re-order society in a way that benefits humanity and planet.

This is not a time for us to succumb to rose-tinted fantasies about a magical transformation of the people. This is not a time for us to look at the democratic process as irrelevant as the corrupt politicians, banks and corporations wish us to do (However boring politics seems, it has often been built that way to dissuade the ordinary person from engaging). Now is the time to engage directly with those who profess to represent us, even as we recognise that representative democracy is limited and that in an age of internet technology, participatory and representative forms of democracy can and must be implemented. We can do this by engaging with those who presently hold power, in doing so, we can wrest that power back into the hands of the people, where it belongs. This can and must happen in a civilised way. If we give up and refuse to engage, we are opening up to the possibility of chaos and calamity. So, whether you choose to vote or not, at the very least explain why to those who do choose to vote, those who do believe that an X on a piece of paper every five years is enough. We cannot pretend the world that presently exists is irrelevant. In order to truly change, we must fully engage with what exists. Ecological wisdom states that when something is broken, you do not throw it away. You fix it. Let us begin the long and arduous process of fixing the political system.

• To be part of the dialogue, come to the Permaculture Picturehouse politics special @Passing Clouds on May 5th

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