The Psychedelics Grift in Big Tech | WIRED
But with all due respect to the concerned doctors, we have already crossed the Rubicon. The latest indication that psychedelics isn’t just medical was when Mark Haden of MAPS Canada appeared on Netflix’s the goop lab and nodded kindly as (now-former) chief content officer Elise Loehnen talked about goop staff picking mushrooms in Jamaica to “feel more creative” or “have a psycho-spiritual experience.” Doctors allow this mission to creep in every time they allow their COOs to serve as their spokespersons and explode corporate corruption for them.
Even their profit depends on convincing you that you need a professional — the professionals they hiring — so most entrepreneurs believe they’ve recovered without detailed and expensive protocols.
In interview after interview, the big people behind these clinics and research companies talk about taking psychedelics in non-medical settings and / or for reasons that involve personal growth — and they still reaping the benefits. Joe Green, an entrepreneur who helped raise $ 30 million for MAPS, told the The Wall Street Journal his experience with psychedelics helped him “rediscover wonder.” Dylan Beynon, who founded the ketamine clinic Mindbloom, said on the blog Walo Katulog that he became interested in psychedelic medicine after a friend recommended that he try MDMA. Similarly, an investors psilocybin was recommended to Lars Wilde, a serial entrepreneur who founded Compass Pathways with George Goldsmith. (Compass’s major funders include Peter Thiel and investor Christian Angermayer, whose first TRIPS with friends on a Caribbean beach.) Apparently, none of these investor friends shone on the moon as an MD.
So if these men are safely enjoying the benefits of psychedelics in the context of health, why continue the medical route? Why not go full goop? First, the underground psychedelic market already exists, and dye-in-the-feather spiritual seekers probably don’t care much if the FDA approves a drug, so they don’t represent a left available source of profit. But more importantly, it’s unlikely that everyone except a few states will legalize psychedelics for widespread consumption any hour soon, so using the drug as a back door allows companies to tech to take advantage of a growing market before anyone can.
By storing these medications behind gates where they hold the keys, they ensure that one type of clients is in the best position to enter — people with disposable income or very good insurance, because ketamine infusions plus medical administration and “processing” hours with a therapist cost more than a pill down the road — while populations that have historically had less access to well-being health care or unequally punished for drug use (i.e., the poor) will be locked out. In this way, they can judge potential customers who may be afraid of the risks, or who are associated with drug abuse and distrust, and whose skepticism is lessened by a medical imprimatur.
Sure, different parties make the occasional mention of the “democratization” of their services, but that’s part of their big utopian high con. In a given time, their monopolistic hunger will inevitably arise. For example, David Bronner, a supporter of Oregon bill to legalize psilocybin in therapeutic settings, recently accused Compass Pathways is trying to “mobilize the opposition” into legalization so that Compass has greater control of the market by becoming the only one offering the service. (The CEO of Compass told Vice that he “just wanted to talk” about the bill.)
And with all the groups to figure out mental health and tell you how to achieve it, you’ll have a hard time finding one that is worse than white tech dudes with money. Their obsession with global connectivity makes most of us more emotionally distant from each other (ironically convenient, as they can cite “disconnection” as a symptom of depression, making them the mental health equivalent of firefighter arsonists). The omnipresence of social media shows us the dark side of self-optimization, and how platforms treat individual users ’data. In the end, their prioritizing growth over stewardship means that companies are more likely to balloon before being hollowed out, leaving a trail of burns, undocumented employees and no ‘ y satisfied users, which is not good if you work with vulnerable populations. Many past mental health treatments have been damaged by scandal and ineffectiveness, by companies such as Talkspace accused of opacity and bad manners, and so on BetterHelp with the worse sin of over-commitment — an amazing therapist, on call 24/7! —and low-delivery by a bot that doesn’t always respond.
Psychedelics don’t get it our attention to brutal capitalist reason only. A lot of people suffer, and psychedelics potential radically shifted people’s minds and led to meaningful personal growth, sometimes only after one use — I consider myself with those who have had positive experiences. It’s important that we allow those who feel they can benefit from psychedelics have the option to try it out.
But instead of handing the reins to a group with a long track record of damaging our collective mental and spiritual health, what if we listened to those with experience using psychedelics to heal people? If we want to honor the way psychedelics has been thought of for thousands of years in Indigenous communities — with some trying to do, to be fair, but it’s always been a sign — then we’ll turn to psychedelic practitioners, doulas , and so on. guides, most of whom have been operating underground for many years for fear of prosecution.
Essentially, we will work to federally decriminalize, regulate, and legalize the recreational use of psychedelics to please people and educate individuals on how to position themselves to be safe. , fun travel. Making this kind of policy change is real revolution we need.