From the Field: Lessons from psychedelic practices in the Netherlands is a blog series based on my qualitative research at the Rijksuniversiteit Groningen in collaboration with the OPEN Foundation. The study focused on the conception and practice of safe and beneficial use of psychedelics in group settings in the Netherlands: more specifically in counterculture, ayahuasca ceremonies and truffle retreat centers. Based on interviews with experienced practitioners, the series highlights and connects diverse aspects of psychedelic practices, from cultural influences through ethics to sensory stimuli.
Part 1: Lessons on Psychedelic Harm Reduction with PsyCare NL – From the field
Part 2: Dutch Psychedelic Practices Shaped by Culture and Law (current post)
As I delved into psychedelic research, it surprised me how few studies paid attention to experienced practitioners and the established practices they follow. To date, most research is concerned with future clinical therapeutic applications. In fact, the image of psychedelics as medication for mental health issues has by now become so prevalent, that the faculty did not see how psychedelics could be relevant for a thesis in Cultural Leadership. While psychedelics may become prescribed medications in the future, they have a rich cultural past and present. They stand at the heart of multiple indigenous cultures, the counterculture of the 1960’s and contemporary events like Burning Man; they were inspirational to the creation of numerous artworks in all artistic genres. And they are central to the lives of certain individuals and communities, here in the Netherlands too.
Pairing with OPEN, we wanted to get an idea of how the current Dutch scenery looks like. As the field grows and more practices appear, we were wondering which existing group practices around the use of psychedelics are facilitated in the Netherlands (Q1). In addition to this bird’s-eye view, we dived deeply into the details of psychedelic practices with the help of well-known and esteemed practitioners. Our focus was on how facilitators envision and practice safe and beneficial use of psychedelics (Q2). To answer the first question, a survey was sent to the members of OPEN (n=112), inquiring about the practices they know and how they can be classified. For the second question, 60-90 minute interviews were conducted with facilitators. This article reviews the study itself, its main theoretical framework, set and setting, and the general Dutch context – the setting in which the practices and the study take place.
Academic approaches and muddy realities of psychedelic practices
In the academy, we strive to be exact: research questions need to be specific, categories methodically outlined, concepts accurately defined. To me, one of the fascinating things about psychedelics is that they do not fit neatly into any ontological box. They stand at various conceptual intersections, like body and mind, science and spirituality, individual and community, and highlight the boxes themselves. What we see is a reflection of our own thinking patterns in our striving to make sense of the world. In other words, we are constantly reminded that the map is not the territory.
Being aware of this tension, my questions related to a psychedelic ‘practice’, in its simplest definition – the usual way of doing something. Instead of using ontological labels, like ‘recreational’, ‘therapeutic’ and ‘spiritual’ use in the survey, I opted for real-life vocabulary: psychedelic parties and events, retreat centers and ceremonial settings. The survey results confirmed my hypothesis that these were the three most prevalent ones in the Netherlands. Subsequently, interviews were conducted with eight experienced facilitators: three ayahuasca ceremony leaders, two retreat guides and three prominent figures in a psychedelic countercultural institution. Albeit my efforts to avoid definitions, I still had three supposedly distinct categories in my head.
As the interviews unfolded, the outlines of these categories started getting blurry. For example, practices employed by the ayahuasca practitioners proved to be very different from one another, ranging from shamanic traditions to Western psychology frameworks. So the joint label ‘ayahuasca ceremony’ seemed to convey very little information beyond the drinking of ayahuasca. Some ceremonies shared more elements with retreat centers’ practices than with each other. So how can practices be distinguished from one another? What are the most important elements? This was the focus of one question in the survey. Respondents were given options like ‘the type of substance’, ‘the philosophy behind the practice’, ‘the setting’, and had to rate their significance to classification. So, for example, if ‘the type of substance’ was rated as the highest, it would make sense to have ‘ayahuasca ceremony’ as a separate category. However, the results only made things more complex: all suggested options were rated as almost identically important for the definition of practices and their classification.
The more I learned, the less sense it made to try and define the practices, certainly by relating to their differences. In addition to diversity between facilitators, many of them talked about changes within their own practice over time, so even the best of classifications was bound to lose its accuracy shortly in this vibrant and newly-awakened field. ‘Take your eyes off the map!’ I had to remind myself, ‘how does the territory look like?’ Then something appeared: some elements were brought up by all (or most) interviewees. So I chose to focus on the commonalities between practices, in a unifying rather than separative approach. Which elements are shared by all practices? What makes them so special that they were highlighted by all facilitators, and how do they contribute to safe and beneficial use of psychedelics?
The Dutch psychedelic Context: Sociocultural Set and Setting
Before taking that trip, let us pause to observe the context of the practices and the study. According to the theory of set and setting, psychedelic experiences are shaped by the setting in which they take place: the physical environment with all its components, and by the mindset of the person taking them, including their intentions, personality traits, etc. This is also true for ordinary human experience, since as Gregory Bateson noted, the phenomena of context and meaning are closely related. But during psychedelic experiences, these connections are enhanced. While many think of set and setting as immediate parameters confined in space and time, the concept has been broadened to include one’s sociocultural context and even the collective one. They can be thought of as different scales of influence on one’s experience. Taking the ayahuasca ceremony example, the ceremony itself would be part of the immediate set and setting, as well as where it is held, the other participants, my intentions and my mood on that day. On another scale, my cultural background plays a tremendous part: am I Dutch? Indigenous? How does my culture frame hallucinations? When I go back home after the ceremony, can I discuss my experience with family and friends? What language would be used to describe it? How does my culture conceive of reality?
Legal entanglements
Where substances other than (psilocybin containing) truffles are concerned, illegality is part and parcel of the set and setting, influencing people’s experiences and the practice as a whole. This is why many retreat centers use truffles, offering both facilitators and participants a legal setting. When I was discussing challenging situations with a retreat guide, they shared a story about a participant who felt unsafe, as if held against their will. A worried friend and some misunderstandings ended in the police being called. When they arrived, it appeared that everyone was safe, the participant was free to leave, and no illegal activity was being committed. Had this happened during an ayahuasca ceremony, the exact same situation could have had significant consequences for the facilitators, the institution they represent and the hosting ground.
The legal situation has practical implications which go far beyond the rare ‘what if’ scenario. Operating in a legal environment, retreat centers often publish educational material on their websites, and their ‘about’ section can include the names, photos and bios of the team. With a few exceptions, facilitators of ayahuasca ceremonies typically work ‘underground’: the ayahuasca-related content is hidden on a password-protected part of their website, if they even have one. Some work with newsletters, carefully distributed among trusted individuals. General non-drug-related descriptions have to be used for payments; finding locations can be tricky. Above ground, producers of countercultural events often relate to drugs as the three wise monkeys: “see not, hear not, speak not”; the mushrooms on the invitation are only decorative.
Prohibition has consequences for participants’ safety as well. In counterculture, it concerns the limitation of prevention and harm-reduction practices. Some festivals, like Boom in Portugal, offer participants drug-testing services. This is because drugs may be cut using other, sometimes dangerous chemicals. If a pattern is discovered, all festival participants receive a message to their phone, alerting them of potential harmful drugs on the terrain. While drug-test services are available for the public all over the Netherlands, they are prohibited on festival grounds. The recently founded PsyCare NL is a new development in the field. Based entirely on volunteer work, the bottom-up harm reduction initiative supplies a safe haven for festival-goers in need.
Participants’ safety in the ceremonial setting benefits from well-informed facilitators and ethical practices. In an unregulated sea, where every facilitator is an island, this becomes difficult even for the best-intentioned practitioners. Here as well, it is mitigated by a bottom-up Dutch initiative. Liaan makes place for ayahuasca ceremony leaders to meet, share their experience, raise questions and doubts, and learn from each other. In the absence of formal guidelines, the network allows them to create professional standards inside the community.
Let’s talk about [beep]: conducting ethical research
Legal entanglements have consequences for research and education as well. To abide by the EU GDPR, survey respondents were asked not to include names or other personal information of practitioners and institutions involved with psychedelics. Only publicly available information, like websites, was allowed. This obviously had an effect on our ability to answer question 1, which existing group practices around the use of psychedelics are facilitated in the Netherlands, for any underground practice had to remain underground.
Most interviewees – facilitators with years, often decades of experience – preferred to preserve their and their institutions’ anonymity. Ultimately, the university’s Ethics Committee required that anonymity be granted to all interviewees without exception. My initial intention to present and discuss the research results with some of the interviewees in an OPEN online event proved unrealistic for that same reason. Instead, I am writing this series, in which my voice is the only one heard.
Culture is not your friend: The works of public image
During preparatory conversations with interviewees, it became clear that none of them were afraid of criminal consequences. Dutch drug policy and law enforcement are considered relatively tolerant. Festivals even work collaboratively with the police, with a mutual understanding that psychedelic drugs do not pose a threat to the safety of visitors. But practitioners know that cultural bias can be stronger than both science and the law. Alcohol is probably the best drug to demonstrate that. The WHO recently published that “2.6 million deaths per year were attributable to alcohol consumption, accounting for 4.7% of all deaths”, and yet not only is alcohol legal, it is completely socially-accepted, it is the norm.
During my PsyCare training last summer, the head of the First Aid services explained that they consider the festival a low profile event. Typically, his team might have to treat two serious medical cases during a five-day long festival, whereas at an average city marathon some 50 people might be rushed to a hospital. Comparing this statement against the public image of psychedelic festivals and that of sport events organized by municipalities, blew me away. But what hit me even harder was my colleagues’ and my own surprise at this, which demonstrated just how powerful public images can be; and that being knowledgeable and even working in the field does not spare you their effect. In a recent episode of Psychedelics Today, Rick Doblin talks about why he thinks Lykos and MAPS failed to get FDA approval for MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD. A big part of it was their assumption that science was more important than culture, underestimating the impact of media and public opinion on the FDA.
Regulation is also conducted by civil bodies deterred by the stigma around drugs. Among the interviewees, one institution was afraid of losing its permit if the municipality associated it with drugs. Another had already lost its bank account due to the same reasons, and feared losing their new one, or worse, being blacklisted by all banks in the Netherlands. At the same time, the Dutch government is making impressive steps towards regulating therapeutic use of MDMA, and perhaps other psychedelics in the future. If psychedelic-assisted therapies become legal, it will surely help in changing public opinions around these substances. However, if they are prescribed as medications and boxed in a clinical setting, most of the study participants might remain in illegal territory rather than becoming the leading voices of this change.
These trends do not exist in a vacuum. They are part of even larger cultural contexts: Dutch, European and Western culture(s), and ultimately the world in which we live in. Dutch practices are part of similar psychedelic practices taking place in other parts of the world and in other times in history. Currently, they are hosted against the backdrop of neoliberalism, capitalism, globalization, secularization, the climate crisis, technology and digital culture, the mental health crisis, and what John Vervaeke described more globally as the meaning crisis. Keeping this broad gaze in mind, the coming articles will zoom into the practices themselves. They will focus on the role of music, nature, sensory stimuli (or lack thereof), agency, care and community; the seemingly separate components shared by all the studied practices.
