PSA's Sunday Morning Sound-Off: December 14th, 2025

I like writing about aspects of the psychedelic ecosystem as well as interviewing people that I find of interest. I don’t consider myself a journalist in the classic sense simply because I am not objective. I have too many opinions and frequently sprinkle them throughout my work.

I’ve become aware of a troubling trend in the rise of a new breed of content creators: psychedelic journalists who are not only reporting on psychedelic issues but are also rapidly becoming high-profile influencers.

Historically, journalism has served as a critical, objective lens through which the public understands complex issues. In the realm of psychedelics, the past decade has seen an explosion of reporting on clinical trials, personal narratives, retreat centers, and policy reform. The digital age has blurred the boundaries between journalism and social media influence. Some journalists are now building personal brands, amassing large followings, and being tempted to monetize their platforms and receive other benefits without transparency. This shift is particularly pronounced in the psychedelic sphere, where the line between reporting, advocacy, and self-promotion is increasingly indistinct.

Now don’t get me wrong, for I am not without sin. I would love to be offered a free 7-day ibogaine retreat or a comped berth on the recent 9-Day Wonder Cruise to Antarctica where I could rub elbows with the likes of Paul Stamets and Rick Doblin. After all, not having to pay a fee that went as high as $24,000 would be pretty tempting for any journalist. But it just might be crossing the line if anything I subsequently reported did not reveal that I was receiving a benefit and special treatment.

The influencer economy thrives on sensationalism and personal stories. In the context of psychedelics, this often translates into glowing testimonials, dramatic before and after accounts, and bold claims regarding healing or enlightenment. While personal narratives can be compelling and relatable, they are not a substitute for rigorous, evidence-based reporting.

Many individuals seeking information on psychedelics are vulnerable, grappling with treatment-resistant depression, PTSD, addiction, or existential distress. For these audiences, the difference between responsible journalism and influencer promotion is not merely academic, it can be a matter of safety. When journalists become influencers, their words carry added weight, and any misrepresentation or omission can have real-world consequences.

‘Shilling’ is defined as promotion without revealing the personal gain received. In the psychedelic world this most commonly occurs when a well-known figure succumbs to the temptation to report on some aspects of the ‘psychedelic renaissance.’ The danger to journalists is the loss of credibility. When bias, based upon a system of reward, creeps into the picture, the validity of that journalist is diminished. There is also danger that content, influenced by creators, is relied upon by the public who have no idea that there is an underlying spin, conscious or not, tainting the message.

As the psychedelic industry grows, attracting investment from pharmaceutical companies, retreat centers, and wellness brands, the potential for conflicts of interest escalates and the temptation grows. Journalists who are also influencers may be offered sponsorships, affiliate deals, or consulting opportunities. These relationships can create subtle (or overt) pressure to present psychedelics in a positive light, downplay risks, or ignore negative findings.

The commercialization of psychedelic journalism threatens to turn what should be a careful, critical exploration into a marketing exercise. Disclosure of financial relationships is not always clear, and audiences may not be aware of the commercial incentives shaping the content they consume. This lack of transparency erodes the ethical foundations of journalism and puts the public at risk.

For those reporting on the world of psychedelics, this can be a slippery slope in determining where to draw the line. From my side of the fence, I see no issue with receiving a media pass to attend a conference. I can’t blame retreat centers for offering free access to journalists, after all, it is up to them to spread the word about their offerings. It is up to those who are so invited to decide what they will do with the invitations. I personally think that if someone wants to report on a retreat center, or any other psychedelic related enterprise, you should think long and hard before accepting substantial freebies. If you do, there is a duty to report that ‘energy exchange’ (as one influencer put it) in whatever you push to the public.

The psychedelic renaissance holds tremendous promise for science, medicine, and culture. However, the rise of journalists as influencers introduces new dangers that must not be ignored. The blending of reporting, advocacy, and entrepreneurship risks undermining public trust, spreading misinformation, and exposing vulnerable individuals to harm.

The choice is clear. Do you want to have a credible voice with something to say or do you want to be an influencer?

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published by our friends at the Chronicles of Kykeon over on Substack - be sure to support and subscribe!

From our friends at Filter Magazine

In public drug policy conversations, decriminalization has too often been framed as a catch-all solution to drug-related issues, from overdose and stigma to health care access and public drug use. It’s easy to see why—especially in the heat of campaigns pushing for long-overdue reform—but overpromising can be dangerous.

While decriminalization is rightly celebrated as a progressive improvement to punitive drug laws, the global reality is messy: a patchwork of partial reforms, mixed results and models being measured against goals they were never designed to meet.

“We’ve developed this idea that decriminalization is some kind of magic bullet,” Professor Alison Ritter, AO, director of the Drug Policy Modelling Program at the University of New South Wales, told Filter. “It will reduce arrests—we can be confident about that. There is evidence to support it. But will it reduce overdose rates? Honestly, I don’t think it would.”

At the International Conference on Health and Hepatitis in Substance Users (INHSU) in October 2024, Ritter presented data from various decriminalization models, evaluating their impact across four areas: arrests, overdose, stigma and health care access.

Her conclusion: Decriminalization consistently reduces arrests and incarceration for people who use drugs, but its impact on other harms is less clear. Ritter’s message? It’s time to get real about what decrim can and can’t do.

It turns out, other advocates and experts are in agreement.

“We now have decriminalization in 59 jurisdictions in 39 countries, and the momentum is growing. But the actual policies vary a lot, with some much less effective and fair than others.”

Part of the problem lies in how the word “decriminalization” is used.

“In the US, a common misconception is confusing decriminalization with legalization,” Kellen Russoniello, director of public health at the Drug Policy Alliance (DPA), told Filter. “People think it means you can walk into a store and buy drugs without consequences. But decriminalization is about removing criminal penalties for possession—not creating a regulated market.”

That challenge isn’t US-specific. To add to the confusion, decrim means very different things in different places: the removal of criminal charges, or their mere reduction; administrative fines instead of criminal penalties; mandatory diversion programs; police discretion; possession thresholds at different levels.

Sometimes it only covers specific drugs, such as cannabis or psychedelics. Sometimes it includes significant health care and social provision, but often not. And only sometimes does it come alongside legalization.

“We now have drug decriminalization in 59 jurisdictions in 39 countries, and the momentum towards this approach is growing,” Jamie Bridge, deputy director of the International Drug Policy Consortium (IDPC), told Filter. “But the actual policies themselves vary a lot, with some much less effective and less fair than others.”

Read the full article here

Ready to reconnect with your psychedelic community?

Join us on December 18 for Writing the Psychedelic Future, a special edition of the Psychedelic Professionals Networking Club - powered by Psychedelic State(s) of America and the Psychedelic Writers Guild

Expect connection, inspiration, and high-vibe networking as we bring together leading voices in psychedelic writing with the professionals shaping our field.

Featuring Jack Gorsline (Founder of The PWG and PSA), Mary Carreon (Editor in Chief, DoubleBlind Magazine), and Psychedelic Journalist Noah Daly, in an evening guided by Carly Dutch-Greene (Studiodelic) focused on connection and the stories shaping today’s psychedelic landscape.

Format: Fireside Chat → Q&A → Networking Rooms (PPNC Style)

Topics: We will explore how psychedelic stories are created and shared, key media trends, responsible use of AI, and the simple path from idea to publication.

Not a writer? No problem! This gathering is for anyone curious about media, messaging, and the narratives driving the psychedelic movement. You will still get the ease and meaningful connection that define every PPNC event.

Thursday, December 18 @ 4pm PST / 7pm EST

Until next time,

The Psychedelic State(s) of America Team