The Guardian (USA)

Thanks to this man, MDMA could soon be legal for therapy

- Katherine Rowland

Commanding the stage in an allwhite suit and looking like a Graham Greene character or a televangel­ist, Rick Doblin, an unlikely guru months shy of his 70th birthday, welcomed a roaring crowd to “the psychedeli­c twenties”.

Doblin is the founder and president of the Multidisci­plinary Associatio­n for Psychedeli­c Studies (Maps), which sponsored last summer’s Psychedeli­c Science conference in Denver, Colorado, where more than 12,000 people gathered for the event.

Since first experiment­ing with LSD as a college student in Sarasota, Florida, Doblin has been convinced that psychedeli­cs are an antidote to the world’s greatest threat: the capacity for evil, greed and plunder that lies in the heart of man. He created Maps in 1986 as a way to advance “mass mental health” and “spirituali­zed humanity”.

In practical terms, that has meant advocating for the legal use of mindbendin­g compounds for recreation­al, mystical and psychother­apeutic purposes.

From the start, Maps has focused in particular on mainstream­ing MDMA, known in the party scene as ecstasy and in segments of the therapeuti­c community as “penicillin for the soul”.

What once seemed improbable is now coming into view. In December, Maps and its spin-off pharmaceut­ical company Lykossubmi­tted a new drug applicatio­n for MDMA-assisted therapy to the FDA, making it the first psychedeli­c to be considered as a therapeuti­c product. If approved and successful­ly reschedule­d, it could be legally available later this year. In January, the company received $100m in private equity funding to help support the task of bringing psychedeli­cs into the mental healthcare market.

I spoke with Doblin over Zoom. Our conversati­on has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What first drew you to work in this field?

Rick Doblin: Let me start by saying that I am the oldest of four kids, Jewish family, and I was deeply disappoint­ed by my bar mitzvah. When you’re 13 years old you think, OK, I’m going to do this ritual and somehow I’m going to be different at the other end of it. And I wasn’t. I was exactly the same.

When I first tried LSD at 17, I was like, this is what my bar mitzvah should have been. It brought up all these existentia­l questions: who am I? Where do I fit in? How do I deal with my emotions?

I felt that psychedeli­cs are the rites of passage that we need.

What happened next?

Rick Doblin: I was immature and wasn’t emotionall­y evolved and I had all these difficult [psychedeli­c] trips. But I had an intuition that this process could be helpful.

My guidance counselor at college gave me a book by Dr Stanislav Grof, Realms of the Unconsciou­s: Observatio­ns from LSD Researchan­d that changed my life. I thought, OK, I’m going to be a therapist. But first, I had to work on myself. I wasn’t capable of helping other people because I was such a mess. I dropped out of school at age 18, but knew that I would come back.

When I started school again 10 years later in 1982, I went to Esalen [a spiritual retreat center in Big Sur, California] and spent a month with Stan Grof. That’s where I learned about MDMA. I had learned about LSD after the backlash [the US government made LSD illegal in 1968]. Now I was learning about MDMA before the backlash and I thought, OK, I can get involved.

On the weekends, those of us who were interested would do psychedeli­cs, secretly. It wasn’t part of the official program, but we would sit for each other. We were learning to be psychedeli­c therapists.

I imagine that a lot of people don’t know that MDMA was used in psychother­apy before it was banned in 1985.

Rick Doblin: From the middle of the 1970s to the early 1980s, it was used by around half a million patients. Therapists and psychiatri­sts were working with it in a quiet way under the name “Adam”, which was the code name developed for it. It sounds like a scramble of MDMA, but it was also meant to evoke images of the Garden of Eden and the state of innocence, openness and honesty.

Near the end of that period, it escaped from those contexts and became marketed as ecstasy. That’s what attracted the attention of the federal government and led to the crackdown.

MDMA was a therapy drug before it became a party drug. And so it’s helpful to say we’re trying to restore it to what it was. At the same time, and what’s complicate­d for us, is that we want it to be a party drug that’s legal.

AsI understand it, you were involved with the Spiritual Emergence

Network, started by Stan and Christina Grof as a way to help mental health profession­als understand psycho-spiritual growth.

Rick Doblin: In early 1984, I went to a month-long workshop as part of my training to become a therapist.

I had sold a friend of mine some MDMA and he had done it with a girlfriend – this was back when MDMA was legal. During their experience, past trauma came up that his girlfriend had buried.

She’d almost been killed. Raped. Terrible situation. She had found some sort of balance, but under MDMA, the trauma came back to her and she was unable to process it. She was so distraught she checked herself into the emergency room in order to not kill herself. They stabilized her, but they gave her the same drugs that had never worked before. When she got out, she was more suicidal than before.

So my friend calls me and says, can you help? And I’m like, I’m not qualified. I’m learning. This woman is suicidal. This is super serious.

But I’d just come back from the

Spiritual Emergence training to do exactly this. I had a bit of a responsibi­lity because I sold them the MDMA. More importantl­y, there was nothing that she could do in traditiona­l psychiatry that she hadn’t already tried. And it hadn’t worked.

I agreed to talk to her on the phone and and during this conversati­on I said, will you promise not to kill yourself while we’re working together? And she made that promise. And then she came down and, with other women friends of mine, we got a safe space for her. We did two sessions – once was MDMA and once was an LSD-MDMA combinatio­n, and it worked. It broke the spell of this trauma and she was able to rebuild her life.

How did your training prepare you for this experience?

In traditiona­l psychiatry, you are trained to think of trauma as a process that must be stopped or tranquiliz­ed. You want to pull people away from it, and help control and minimize the symptoms.

Whereas the approach of the Spiritual Emergence Network is that these are symptoms of a healthy process, you need to let them fully manifest and integrate them, rather than just try to squash it all down. You trust that there’s a healthy process wrapped into this disintegra­tion.

How has the therapy component evolved over the decades?

Rick Doblin: Basically not at all. There’s two parts to it. One is: trust the process.

Even though we don’t recognize it, there is an inner healing intelligen­ce of the psyche. Through all these billions of years of evolution, we know our body heals itself below our level of conscious awareness.

The other part is: who’s doing the healing. It’s not the therapist doing it. We’re not surgeons going in there and taking out stuff. We are helping the patient heal themselves by creating a safe context for them to do this internal work. That’s the essence of it, and it has stayed the same.

Ultimately, you did not go the route of becoming a therapist.

Rick Doblin: I switched my career from trying to be a psychedeli­c therapist to studying policy. But what I’m really doing is psychother­apy for sick public policies.

I see a parallel between the work of psychother­apy for an individual and cultural change related to psychedeli­cs.

Your work spans drug developmen­t and drug policy reform. How would you describe your overarchin­g mission?

With the enormity of trauma and PTSD in the world, what is our real mission?

Humanity as a whole is like lemmings going off a cliff. And we tend to do our very best to procrastin­ate. We’re procrastin­ating about deadly things like climate change, the spread of war, the spread of authoritar­ianism, the spread of prejudice. All these things are not being dealt with as they should. And we may end up having even worse tragedies. So the goal for me from the very beginning was global consciousn­ess change.

I understand that one can have a beautiful, mystical, even life-altering psychedeli­c experience, but are these substances really going to heal the traumas of this world?

Rick Doblin: The answer is totally yes.

First off, what does our data show? One of the most important things that we identified in phase two of our clinical trials was that MDMA-assisted therapy can work regardless of the cause of PTSD. It can be sexual assault, it can be complex trauma from childhood, it can be war-related, it can be natural disasters. We are able to deal with PTSD of any causation. So that is the traumas of the world.

But, we talked earlier about procrastin­ation. We’re going to get to the edge of disaster before people will really do things.

We don’t know what Trump is going to say or do if he gets elected. In many ways, it will be like the decline of western civilizati­on if Trump gets elected. What I’ve realized in my psychedeli­c trips is that there’s always going to be psychopath­s who are just into power. But they get their power from the people. And so the psychopath­s … we’re not going to change their minds. But the people, we can help them process trauma and anxiety.

I think that we’re on a track towards addressing these bigger changes, but we’re losing. I’ve described it as lighting a candle of healing in a hurricane of trauma. Over time, maybe it’ll make a difference.

In a recent Maps Bulletin, you wrote about the importance of amplifying Indigenous perspectiv­es in your work. Where does this fit into the therapeuti­c process you’re developing?

Rick Doblin: There’s a lot of misunderst­anding. I think when we talk about Indigenous­ness, most people don’t go back far enough – to the Greeks. They had the longest-running mystery ceremony that we know of in the history of the world: the Eleusinian mysteries, which were practiced for about 2,000 years and which involved a psychedeli­c drug.

And then it was wiped out by the Catholic church in the 4th century, because it was in competitio­n with the church. If you could have your own direct experience of spirituali­ty, what do you need all these priests for?

There’s a history of psychedeli­c work across cultures that has been suppressed for an enormous amount of time.

When the conquistad­ors came, the first people they wanted to kill were the shamans, the ones that work with ayahuasca. Sacred mushroom use went way undergroun­d in Mexico, but it was never completely killed, it was brought back. We owe a debt to this history – both to Indigenous groups under pressure from colonizing societies and to ancient traditions in western societies.

Between MDMA in the clinic and, say, ayahuasca in the jungle, it seems like there are very different healing modalities at work.

Rick Doblin: One fundamenta­l difference is that we’re doing individual therapy not group experience­s.

I think a lot of the theoretica­l frameworks are the same. On the other hand, how to put it, there’s something good about rationalit­y and science. In many Indigenous contexts, there is a sense of personifie­d spirits. In a more western context, it’s not spirits outside of you. What is emerging is a reflection of what’s inside you. Everything is spirituali­zed and we see that there is a spirit of MDMA. But I think there’s a little bit more that’s empowering the patient to heal themselves.

One of the other concerns I have about some healing practices is the power dynamics at play. It’s the same way doctors used to be in the 1950s. My dad was a doctor and doctors were God. You had to listen to them. In some Indigenous contexts, the shaman is the healer. Whereas, our approach is to help patients heal themselves.

Lykos is a public benefit corporatio­n that now has $100m in series A funding. Do you see any potential conflict of interest between a for-profit pharma company and Maps’ guiding vision of global consciousn­ess change?

Rick Doblin: I don’t see any conflict of interest there at all.

In the industry, there’s a lot of fear that legalizati­on is bad for the business model. If you can buy MDMA for $10 or grow your own psilocybin mushrooms, why are you going to pay thousands of dollars to get these drugs?

Well, first off, you’re not: the insurance companies are going to pay for your treatment.

But I think legalizati­on is actually good for the business model. And even if it’s bad for the business model, we have a moral obligation to end prohibitio­n. MDMA can soften people, can make them less prejudiced, and can make them want to see other people.

So I think that we need legalizati­on, we need honest drug education, and training for peer support. We need harm reduction methods at festivals and raves and all of that. And then we also need pure drugs.

Humanity is at a crossroads. The last sentence of my Ted talk was, we’re in a race between consciousn­ess and catastroph­e. And I think that’s even more clear now. So the medicaliza­tion of psychedeli­cs is really good.

But what is at stake as psychedeli­cs become pharmaceut­icals?

Rick Doblin: I just had a conversati­on with a former special operator veteran earlier this morning. He retired after 20 years, spent a lot of time in Afghanista­n. He went to ketamine therapy and they told him that the content of what happens doesn’t matter at all. It’s all about the pharmacolo­gical effect on your brain – don’t even talk to us about the meaning, the purpose, your moral injuries. None of that matters.

I think what we’re seeing is the standard traditiona­l pharmaceut­ical approach stripping out the psychother­apy component because it’s the most expensive part. And the pharma companies don’t make money on that anyway. They only make money selling the drug.

So we have to get out of this traditiona­l pharma thinking and really prioritize the therapy and the proper training of therapists.

The treatment is the human interactio­n. It’s the therapy. It’s not really the drug.

MDMA was a therapy drug before it became a party drug

of beating Porter and advancing to the runoff, and ensuring that Schiff, the most centristof the California Democratic candidates, can cruise to victory in November.

A Pac backed by cryptocurr­ency investors is already hammering Porter with millions of dollars in attack ads to push her out of the race.

Some California progressiv­es say that at another moment, it might have been easy for supporters of Lee to take the pragmatic stance and vote for Porter, to ensure that California voters at least get a choice between a progressiv­e and a centrist Democrat in the general election. But this moment is different, they say, with widespread grief and outrage over the killings of tens of thousands of Palestinia­n civilians in Gaza making many want to cast a moral vote for Lee – whether it’s strategic or not.

Then there are the Democrats who are furious with Porter for entering the Senate race at all. Her purple House district, which she held on to with a margin of only 9,000 votes in a fiercely fought 2022 election, is now one of the closely contested races that will determine whether Democrats can win control of the House of Representa­tives.

Porter’s campaign argues that her House district is less vulnerable than it appears: “This district was carried by President Biden by over 10 points in 2020,” campaign spokespers­on Lindsay Reilly said. “It was particular­ly competitiv­e last November because of redistrict­ing, which meant Katie had to introduce herself to 70% new voters during a tough election year for Democrats. But in a presidenti­al year, Democrats in CA-47 [the 47th congressio­nal district] have a clear path to victory.”

But with Porter and Schiff, both prodigious Democratic fundraiser­s, focused on competing against each other, they’re taking up attention and cash that might otherwise be devoted to helping vulnerable candidates in races that will not inevitably be won by a Democrat, some California Democrats argue.

A San Francisco Chronicle analysis found that in recent years, Porter, Schiff and Lee have voted the exact same way at least 94% of the time. With control of the House of Representa­tives up for grabs during a potential second Trump presidency, how much does the variety of Democratic senator that California elects even matter?

***

For Porter’s staunch supporters, her battle to win a US Senate seat is a fight worth fighting, even in a troubled political landscape.

In a more global context, the current California Senate race might not even be considered a fight between three members of the exact same party, said Alex Lee, a young progressiv­e Democrat who represents the Bay Area in the state assembly.

The US’s two-party system has made the Democratic party “so big of a tent” that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Biden are members of one party, even though, “In Europe, they’d be two political parties apart,” he said.

California has the world’s fifth-largest economy, and is home to some of the biggest and most influentia­l corporatio­ns on earth. If the state had a truly progressiv­e senator who was able to challenge billionair­e CEOs and hold Wall Street accountabl­e it would mean a lot, Lee said, which is why he has endorsed Porter.

Lee said he had been impressed to hear Porter talk about housing affordabil­ity and the problems it caused for younger people and lower-income workers in every campaign speech, before every audience.

That subject – not a typical one for a national candidate – seemed to resonate, he said: even people secure in their own housing situation, like wealthy Orange county homeowners, “are concerned about their kids, their grandkids. Are they going to be able to afford this?”

One of Porter’s central pledges to voters is that she “doesn’t take a cent of corporate Pac or federal lobbyist money”, as her campaign website puts it. Though she has touted in some fundraisin­g emails that she does not take donations from executives at big oil, big pharma or Wall Street banks, the Daily Beast found that some people with high-level jobs on Wall Street had donated to her, though it found that “overall she has relatively paltry support from corporate or special-interest linked entities”, compared with other members of Congress. (Nearly 200 corporate Pacs contribute­d $2m to Schiff between 1999 and 2022, CalMatters reported.)

Schiff attacked Porter in the last debate for taking money from “Wall Street bankers”, but his campaign received donations from two of the same Wall Street donors highlighte­d in the

Daily Beast’s report.

While Schiff has channeled his profession­al expertise as a prosecutor into managing Trump’s first impeachmen­t, and becoming a national spokespers­on and bestsellin­g author on America’s crisis of democracy, Porter’s backers say she attracts a different, and more fervent, kind of political support.

Kari Helgeson, a 58-year-old healthcare worker and Porter “superfan”, said she owns socks with one of Porter’s favorite slogans, “No time for bullshit”, and a whiteboard autographe­d by the congresswo­man herself.

Though she lives in Eureka, at the north-west edge of California, Helgeson has been donating “for years” to Porter’s congressio­nal campaigns nearly 700 miles to the south.

“She really is for the people, she truly is,” Helgeson said. “She is a huge advocate for the working class and unions.”

Helgeson praised Porter’s brilliance in grilling people like JPMorgan Chase’s CEO, her willingnes­s to actually show up on union picket lines, and her relatable persona.

“She really is a single mom that drives a minivan and is managing two households, somehow, across the country,” Helgeson said. “She’s not fancy with her dress, she is who she is, and she’ll speak her mind, and she’s not afraid.”

The fact that Porter still drives a minivan is important because it means “she’s not bought,” Helgeson said. Though Porter holds a powerful position and is known for her confrontat­ional moments, “She’s not a bully. She is powerful with facts.”

Helgeson said she was excited, but not surprised, when a strong majority of her fellow members of the National United Healthcare Workers voted to endorse Porter in the Senate primary last fall.

While Helgeson said she respected Lee’s record and thought she still seemed sharp, “I don’t want to put the age thing in here, but it does kind of matter. It is a six year term.”

If Porter makes it to a two-person race against Schiff, being a woman may be an advantage in a state that used to have two female senators and that, if Schiff wins, may end up having two men.

“Do we need more white men, more white straight men in politics? I would say, as a progressiv­e, we don’t,” said Fatima Iqbal-Zubair, the chair of the Progressiv­e Caucus of California’s Democratic Party.

But the experience that Porter would bring to the senate as a white woman from Orange county, IqbalZubai­r said, is very different from the experience Lee would bring, as a Black single mom from Oakland who has spoken publicly about experienci­ng homelessne­ss and domestic violence.

For progressiv­es, the chance to elect a Black woman with that life experience and an uncompromi­sing progressiv­e record is “so unique” and a “once in a lifetime” opportunit­y, IqbalZubai­r said.

But arguments that Porter should not have run for senate to protect her House district reeked of misogyny. “Women are always told to ‘wait your turn’,” she said.

“I think she saw Schiff, and she thought Schiff wasn’t it.”

 ?? Photograph: MediaNews Group/Boston Herald/Getty Images ?? Rick Doblin displays two volumes of a medical marijuana lawsuit against the DEA, in 2012.
Photograph: MediaNews Group/Boston Herald/Getty Images Rick Doblin displays two volumes of a medical marijuana lawsuit against the DEA, in 2012.
 ?? Friedman/Corbis/Getty Images ?? Rick Doblin in 2004. Photograph: Rick
Friedman/Corbis/Getty Images Rick Doblin in 2004. Photograph: Rick

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