I get either depressed or angry (and often both) when focusing on the philosophical absurdity of substance prohibition, so I have decided to take a break from that irritating topic for a few minutes and to write a short essay instead on the philosophy of psychedelic drug effects. To be specific, I wish to address the question of why the world seems so new and surprising to those who are under the influence of such medicines. This has, I suggest, everything to do with Immanuel Kant 1 's categories and the forms of Socrates.
With apologies to John Locke, our minds are clearly not blank slates (tabla rasas) when we arrive in the world, or if they are, they do not remain so for long. Consider how the merest 2- or 3-year-old is aware that any dog is a dog -- despite the fact that dogs vary so wildly in attributes. In fact, a toddler will understand that a two-dimensional rendering of a dog is a dog. We clearly see the world via rule-based understandings, based on preexisting categories or forms. Otherwise, a child would have to have his or her concept of "dog" updated by adults time and time again after encountering diverse examples of the species. And so the parent has no need to say things like: "See, honey? That schnauzer is just as much a dog as that Great Dane!" Or, "See, honey? These lines on this paper are what we call a 2-D rendering of the dog that we can also see in real life!" The parents can save their breath. The kids already know that a dog is a dog is a dog. They know thanks to their possession of a built-in rule-book on this topic.
We can hypothesize then that at least some of the seemingly bizarre experiences of a psychedelic voyage result from the sudden abeyance of such rules. Under the influence of the drug, we are no longer constrained to see that pile of fur as a dog -- but rather as a carpet or as jungle foliage or as oscillating tendrils of some great sea monster. In short, we are constrained -- or rather freed -- to think creatively in our drugged state whereas we are constrained to think practically -- i.e., with a utilitarian 234 focus -- in a so-called "sober" state.
I'd like to become a guinea pig for researchers to test the ability of psychoactive drugs to make aging as psychologically healthy as possible. If such drugs cannot completely ward off decrepitude, they can surely make it more palatable. The catch? Researchers have to be free.
Outlawing drugs is outlawing obvious therapies for Alzheimer's and autism patients, therapies based on common sense and not on the passion-free behaviorism of modern scientists.
NIDA is just a propaganda arm of the U.S. government -- and will remain so until it recognizes the glaringly obvious benefits of drugs -- as well as the glaringly obvious downsides of prohibition. We need a National Institute on Drug Use, not a National Institute on Drug Abuse.
If NIDA covered all drugs (not just politically ostracized drugs), they'd produce articles like this: "Aspirin continues to kill hundreds." "Penicillin misuse approaching crisis levels." "More bad news about Tylenol and liver damage." "Study revives cancer fears from caffeine."
It is evil to give the depressed drugs to help them die while barring them from using drugs that could make them wish to live.
Scientists are censored as to what they can study thanks to drug law. Instead of protesting that outrage, they lend a false scientific veneer to those laws via their materialist obsession with reductionism, which blinds them to the obvious godsend effects of outlawed substances.
The media called out Trump for fearmongering about immigrants, but the media engages in fearmongering when it comes to drugs. The latest TV plot line: "white teenage girl forced to use fentanyl!" America loves to feel morally superior about "drugs."
"The Harrison [Narcotics] Act made the drug peddler, and the drug peddler makes drug addicts.” --Robert A. Schless, 1925.
Mariani Wine is the real McCoy, with Bolivian coca leaves (tho' not with cocaine, as Wikipedia says). I'll be writing more about my experience with it soon. I was impressed. It's the same drink "on which" HG Wells and Jules Verne wrote their stories.
Being less than a month away from an election that, in my view, could end American democracy, I don't like to credit Musk for much. But I absolutely love it every time he does or says something that pushes back against the drug-war narrative.
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