1949: LSD is introduced for the first time in the United States at the Boston Psychopathic Hospital (now the Massachusetts Mental Health Center), and research on its psychotomimetic properties begins.
1950: Busch and Johnson publish first recommendation of LSD as an adjunct to psychotherapy.
1951: Humphry Osmond begins work with mescaline and LSD at a Saskatchewan hospital.
1953: First clinic using LSD in psycholytic ("mind loosening'') therapy established at Powick Hospital in England by Sandison.
1953: Aldous Huxley writes to Humphry Osmond about one of his papers on mescaline; a correspondence follows, and Osmond administers mescaline to Huxley.
1953: William Burroughs in the Amazon taking yage; Wasson in Mexico in search of psychedelic mushrooms.
1954: Huxley publishes The Doors of Perception describing the mescaline effect and reflecting philosophically on it.
1954: Virola tree identified as source of Amazonian snuffs.
1955: Wasson takes teonanacatl in Oaxaca.
1955: Atlantic City meeting of the American Psychiatric Association includes symposium on psychedelic drugs addressed by Huxley; the book LSD and Mescaline in Experimental Psychiatry, edited by Louis O. Cholden, comes out of the conference.
1955: Peretz and others present first clinical report on TMA.
1956: Stanislav Grof begins his career of LSD research in Prague.
1956: Expedition to Oaxaca by Wasson and Heim; Psilocybe mexicanaidentified and the mushrooms sent to Hofmann.
1956: Stephen Szara presents first clinical report on DMT and DET.
1957: Article on magic mushrooms by the Wassons appears in Life.1957: The drug house Smith, Kline & French issues report on clinical trials of MDA since 1949.
1958: The theologian Alan Watts takes LSD for the first time.
1958: Hofmann reports isolation and synthesis of psilocin and psilocybin.
1959: Hofmann isolates Iysergic acid amides from ololiuquiseeds.
1959: First international conference devoted to LSD; from it comes the book, The Use of LSD in Psychotherapy, edited by Harold Abramson.
1959: Phencyclidine introduced.
1959: The novelist Ken Kesey takes LSD, peyote, phencyclidine, and other drugs as an experimental volunteer at Menlo Park Veteran's Hospital in California.
1960: Over 500 papers on LSD in print.
In 1955, Huxley spoke of "a nation's well-fed and metaphysically starving youth reaching out for beatific visions in the only way they know"—through drugs (Young and Hixson 1966, p. 48). In an article on mescaline in the Saturday Evening Post in 1958, he suggested that it might produce a revival of religion (Huxley 1977, pp. 146-156). The fulfillment of his prophecies began when college students yearning to free themselves from the stuffy complacency of the 1950s fell under the influence of academic and literary figures promoting psychedelic drugs as a means for the permanent transformation of consciousness. The fact that psychedelic visions could be hellish as well as beatific was another fascinating challenge to the user rather than an objection to this astounding new way of feeding metaphysical appetites. The psychedelic movement was a kind of crisis cult within Western industrial society, formed by children of affluence and leisure who were inadequately assimilated culturally and homeless psychologically. Their malaise was best described in Paul Goodman's Growing Up Absurd (1960). What had turned the Plains Indians to peyote in the 1870s turned some college-educated whites to LSD in the 1960s; their old cultural forms seemed meaningless, and they needed new symbols and rituals to shape beliefs and guide action. The hippies who fancied themselves as white Indians, successors to the hipsters described by Norman Mailer as white Negroes, may not have been so wrong; but they, resembled traditional Indians less than those other modern men, the adherents of the peyote religion (see Spindler 1952).
In the current hassle over psychedelic plants and drugs, you are witnessing a good-old-fashioned, traditional religious controversy. On the one side the psychedelic visionaries, somewhat uncertain about the validity of their revelations, embarrassedly speaking in new tongues (there never is, you know, the satisfaction of a sound, right academic language for the new vision of the Divine), harassed by the knowledge of their own human frailty, surrounded by the inevitable legion of eccentric would-be followers looking for a new panacea, always in grave doubt about their own motivation—(hero? martyr? crank? crackpot?)—always on the verge of losing their material achievements—(job, reputation, long-suffering wife, conventional friends, parental approval); always under the fire of the power-holders And on the other side the establishment (the administrators, the police, the fund-granting foundations, the job-givers) pronouncing their familiar lines in the drama ''Danger! Madness! Unsound! Intellectual corruption of youth! Irreparable damage! Cultism! (Leary 1968, pp. 56-57)
From the other side, a psychiatrist, Daniel X. Freedman, wrote that the psychedelic prophets were victims of a delusional autonomy and bland sense of superiority, protected themselves by using the ego defense known as denial, and had a need to proselytize in order to allay their own doubts: "It is interesting that classifications of pathological outcomes of conversion (including irresponsibility and omniscience) startlingly resemble patterns we see with LSD.... Implied are unsolved problems with authority figures. Salvation often involves renunciation of previous ties; those who are saved must repetitively convince others in order to diminish their own doubt, isolation, and guilt" (Freedman 1968, p. 338).
The power of psychedelic drugs to produce at least temporary adherence to a new conception of oneself and a new way of life can be regarded with an admiring eye, like Leary's, or a dubious eye, like Freedman's; in any case, the power was at its height when the drugs were a novelty. This "cultogenic" property, as it has been awkwardly called, is embodied innocently in the Huichol ceremonial, the peyote religion, and some of the psychedelic churches that sprang up in the early sixties, as well as corruptly and satanically in the Charles Manson family. It was well described by Wolfe in his intimate account of Kesey's Merry Pranksters. Kesey s Acid Test parties were a kind of religious rite with their own religious art:
The Acid Tests were one of those outrages, one of those scandals[the reference is to St. Paul's description of Christianity] that create a new style or a new world view. Everyone clucks, fumes, grinds their teeth over the bad taste, the bad morals, the insolence, the vulgarity, the childishness, the lunacy, the cruelty, the irresponsibility, the fraudulence... The Acid Tests were the epoch of the psychedelic style and practically everything that has gone into it... Even details like psychedelic poster art, the quasi-art nouveau swirls of lettering, design, and vibrating colors, electro pastels and spectral Day-Glo, came out of the Acid Tests Later other impresarios and performers would recreate the Prankster styles with a sophistication the Pranksters never dreamed of Art is not eternal, boys. The posters became works of art in the accepted cultural tradition.... Others would do the mixed-media thing until it was pure ambrosial candy for the brain with creamy filling every time To which Kesey would say ''They know where it is, but they don't knowwhat it is." (Wolfe 1969 , pp. 223-224)
Leary called himself a "high priest" and flattered drug chemists and drug dealers by describing them as successors to the medieval alchemists. Another term borrowed by the heresiarchs of the psychedelic sects and also used scornfully by their enemies was the Hindi guru, meaning spiritual teacher, a figure with elements of priest, psychotherapist, and trip guide.
One formulation of the issue was Youth versus Age; most of the drug users were young, and a Flower Child had to be, at least in spirit. Leary flattered his followers this way: "The present generation under the age of 25 is the wisest and holiest generation that the human race has ever seen" (Leary 1968a, p. 46). He wrote an essay with the title, "Hormonal Politics," proposing the unusual idea that the basic question in politics was how much time you spent making love last week (Leary 1968 b, p. 168). In a cheerful short essay called "Start Your Own Religion" (ibid., pp. 223-236), he adjured the user of psychedelic drugs to consider himself a spiritual voyager and not a naughty boy, but often it seemed that he meant to obscure the distinction. He spoke of good vs. evil, underground vs. above ground, and the free, ecstatic, moist, sensual, and funny life forces vs. the dry, humorless, destructive antilife forces. He wrote of the "evolutionary leap" the young had taken by fruitful derangement of their nervous systems. They had experienced more than the Buddha and Einstein, they were ambassadors from the future, they had ended the 400-year bad trip that began with the scientific revolution and the rise of industrial society (Leary ;968 a, pp. 161-162), and so on in that extravagant style. He replied to the criticism that LSD was used indiscriminately and for kicks by writing that it should be indiscriminate and for kicks, like life itself (Leary 1968 a, p. 14).
The hippie movement constituted the mass following of the psychedelic ideology. It began to gather force around ].965 and reached its height between 1967 and 1969. Although the matter was often obscured for tactical reasons, there is no doubt that the initiating element, the sacrament, the symbolic center, the source of group identity in hippie lives was the psychedelic drug trip. To drop out, you had to turn on. It was not a question of how often the drugs were used; sometimes once was enough, and many people experienced a kind of cultural contact high without taking drugs at all. Earlier bohemians had their unconventional dress, sexual and work habits, hairstyles and political attitudes; what distinguished hippiedom and expanded its population far beyond that of genuine literary and artistic bohemias was simply the extra ingredient of LSD. By democratizing visionary experiences, LSD made a mass phenomenon of attitudes and ideas that had been, the property of solitary mystics, esoteric religions, eccentric cults, or literary cliques. Every teenager who had taken 500 micrograms of LSD could convince himself, with the help of teachers like Leary, that he was in some sense an equal of the Buddha or Einstein.
The hippie movement in its visions combined a theoretical benevolence and gentleness with an interest in communitarian experiments, the occult, magic, exotic ritual, and mysticism. It borrowed its crazy-quilt of ideas from depth psychology, oriental religion, anarchism, American Indian lore, and the Romantic and Beat literary current of inspired spontaneity. I9liddle-class young people, provided with a childhood free of the most obvious forms of coercion and made self-conscious by the adolescent subculture and the youth consumer market that supplied it, were unwilling to submit to what they saw as the hypocrisies and rigidities demanded by adult jobs and roles, the unfreedom of adult life; a society worried about unemployment was willing to delay their entry into the job market and prolong their adolescence. The implicit purpose of the hippie style was to prolong the freedom and playfulness of childhood as far as possible into adulthood: to make the culture a youth culture. They rejected the accepted social definitions of reason, progress, knowledge, and even reality; they proclaimed their abandonment of the egocentrism and compulsiveness of the technological world view. American society was seen as a dehumanizing, commercialized air-conditioned nightmare, meanly conformist in its manners and morals, hypocritical in its religion, murderous and repressive in its politics; it outlawed the liberating psychedelic drugs and approved of enslaving alcohol and nicotine. A transformed way of life would be built on the intimations provided by LSD, the "mind detergent" that purged the psyche and midwifed a personal rebirth as the first step toward a new form of community.
The formula included self-realization, freedom from inhibition, communal ecstasy, expanded awareness, cleansed perception, essential rather than superficial religion, and a new spiritual order in which Blake's "mind-forged manacles" would be broken and our oneness with the universe recognized Hippies were expected to withdraw from the economy of conspicuous consumption and competitive emulation to live in holy poverty, scorning money, property, and upward mobility. Like the Huichols, they would return through psychedelic drugs to a lost state of innocence, a time before time began when the creation was fresh and the earth a paradise. They would turn away from the empty democratic political forms of industrial society and organize themselves into "tribes," imitating the organic community of preliterate hunters and gatherers. On the one hand they were young men and ladies of leisure, scornful aristocrats rejecting the vulgarity and hypocrisy of mass culture; on the other, they were self-made noble savages, or serene and compassionate yogis. Their festivals, and indeed their lives, were supposed to combine play and prayer and make the two indistinguishable. The hairstyles, dress, manners, and language were partly a mark of indifference to the established conventions, partly a deliberate mockery and challenge. Instead of measuring out their lives with coffee spoons, they proposed self-abandonment and sensual indulgence; in place of secular humanism and political rationalism (revolutionary or conservative), they preferred a farrago of mystical and prophetic apolitical religions—Zen, Sufism, yoga, Tantra, shamanism, Gnosticism.
Hippies and their critics searched for historical analogies to validate or invalidate this peculiar mixture of Asian notions of serenity and passivity with American optimism and emphasis on youth, which had its first incarnation in the Americanized Zen Buddhism of the marihuana-smoking Beat Generation. Hippies were proclaimed the successors of the Cynics, the early Christians or Buddhists, Thoreau, St. Francis, antinomian religious sects, the youth movements of German Romanticism, the literary bohemians of the 1840s or the 1920s, or the mystery cults of the ancients; they were said to have inherited the dream of the Land of Cockaigne or Arcadia, or the tradition of American experiments in community anarchy. "Hippie" itself was originally an outsider's term, invented by journalists; insiders sometimes regarded it as at best sympathetically condescending in the style of the mass media, at the worst uncomprehendingly scornful. They often preferred to call themselves "heads," implying superior awareness, or even "freaks," with the implication that they were mutants, hopeful monsters who represented the next stage in cultural evolution. Some intelligent observers in fact agreed that here was "a significant new culture aborning." (Roszak 1969, p. 38). That, of course, was only the vision; the reality, as always, was something else. In any case, what looks like a desirable mutant from one point of view is simply a monstrosity from another. So some sensitive outsiders, like cultivated Romans contemplating a Hellenistic sect, regarded the whole phenomenon, even in its most exalted and philosophical aspects, as a form of barbaric enmity to reason and civilization, a sometimes sadly naive and confused, sometimes aggressively coarse and brutal mixture of fraud and folly, a compound of collective eccentricity and personal aberration that could only be destructive.
The psychedelic culture had its characteristic public occasions and assemblies: celebrations of equinoxes and solstices, be-ins, rock concerts, and so on. Here, for example, is Wolfe's description of the Love Festival held in Golden Gate Park on October 7, 1966, the day the California law against LSD went into effect:
Thousands of heads piled in, in high costume, ringing bells, chanting, dancing ecstatically, blowing their minds one way and another and making their favorite satiric gesture to the cops, handing them flowers, burying the bastids [sic] in tender fruity petals of love. Oh Christ, Tom, the thing was fantastic, a freaking mind-blower, thousands of high-loving heads out there messing up the minds of the cops and everybody else in a fiesta of love and euphoria. (Wolfe 1969 [l968], p. 827)
At about the same time a white-robed Leary, playing the prophet game, presided over the founding rites of the League for Spiritual Discovery in New York. Other characteristic events were Kesey s Trips Festival in January of 1966, the Human Be-In in San Francisco in January 1967 (a gathering of the tribes" with 20,000 participants), and the Woodstock Rock Festival of the summer of 1969, with an audience of more than 300,000, almost all under twenty-five.
More permanent meeting places were the psychedelic dance halls and discotheques with their elaborate light and sound apparatus designed to make the most of the drugs' sensory effects. In their first year of operation the Fillmore Auditorium and Avalon Ballroom in San Francisco had about a million customers (Marshall and Taylor 1967, p. 106). In places like these, as well as music festivals and recording studios, the drug culture assimilated rock and roll. If drugs were its most important commodity and commercial enterprise, music was not far behind. The musicians and entrepreneurs of rock, along with drug dealers, were its financial aristocrats, and much of the rock music of the late sixties was inspired by psychedelic experiences or designed to be heard under the influence of the drugs. The surrealist imagery of song Iyrics and album covers showed the influence even more unequivocally. A musical style invented by a San Francisco group, the Grateful Dead, was called acid rock; but for a few years most rock music was in a broader sense acid rock, as is obvious from the titles and Iyrics of songs like the Byrds' "Eight Miles High," The Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit," Donovan's "Sunshine Superman, or the Beatles' "Magical Mystery Tour and Tomorrow Never Knows," with its borrowings from a psychedelic Bible, the Tibetan Book of the Dead:
Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.
Psychedelic mixed-media art imitated the synesthesia of the drug experience by means of stroboscopic lights, movies, slide projections, scents, shadows, and deafening music used to overwhelm the senses and derange habitual modes of perception. Psychedelic posters and paintings evoked drug visions with their garish colors, biomorphic forms, crowded detail, and surrealist mythological imagery—only the emotional intensity and the incessant movement and change could not be reproduced. Films like Easy Rider and the Beatles' animated cartoon Yellow Submarine were another kind of visual celebration of the drug experience. Rock music and other products with a hippie flavor entered the larger culture, often commercialized and trivialized in the form of imitation "psychedelic" T-shirts, pens, and so on. The drug culture developed a technical terminology and slang out of a mixture of black dialect, older street drug talk, Eastern religious language, and its own inventions. It gave currency to expressions like turned on, straight, freak, freaked out, stoned, tripping, tripped out, spaced out, far out, flower power, ego trip, hit, into, mike, plastic, going with the flow, laying one's trip on someone, game-playing, mind-blowing, mind games, bring-down, energy, centering, acid, acidhead, good trip, bum trip, horror show, drop a cap or tab, karma, samsara, mantra, groovy, rapping, crash, downer, flash, scene, vibes, great white light, doing your thing, going through changes, uptight, getting into spaces, wiped out, where it's at, high, ball, zap, rush, and so on. Many old terms like "travel agent" took on new meanings that were half in-jokes and half esoteric cult-signs.
The alleged enemy was conformist society, the straight world, adults, medical authorities, the government, the law, and so on—a situation well defined in the title of a book by Nicholas von Hoffman: We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us Against. But things were not so simple. America confronted the hippies with a mixture of attraction and revulsion summed up in the two public faces of the lazy, dirty, hedonistic, promiscuous, and parasitical dope fiend and the radiantly angelic product of the love generation. The hippies made conventional society anxious but also touched its imagination. After all, some of them were the sons and daughters of its pillars. Favorable and unfavorable publicity in the mass media were equally effective in spreading the use of psychedelic drugs. Paeans to the gentleness, peaceableness, and sexual openness of the flower children made recruits for the drug culture; reports of suicides, fatal falls, or psychotic reactions were discounted as establishment propaganda, and it was even said (especially by Leary) that scare publicity and medical mishandling causedmost bad drug reactions. Cops-and-robbers stories about drug arrests contributed to the exhilarating sense of forbidden adventure. Students surveyed at a high school in California in 1967, when asked whom they would trust as the narrator of an anti-LSD film, answered "no one" (Braden 1970, p. 413): a common effect of adverse drug publicity in the sixties on young people who understood how much hypocrisy, displacement, and projection went into adult condemnations. And yet it was partly the way some adults flattered them as spiritual and social innovators that made young drug users so confident of their judgment. Some professional people—sociologists, psychologists, journalists, clergymen—were so excited by the hippies' proclamations of messianic transcendence and social revolution that they abandoned their own judgment and invested disappointed hopes for drastic and immediate change in a movement that made promises far beyond its capacities.
Amid the mixture of hostility and approbation that greeted the hippies and their drugs, the law hesitated for a while and then came down on the side of repression. In the early days psychedelic drugs were not treated with the peculiar moralistic severity reserved for substances classified as "narcotics" (including, ironically, the much milder marihuana). Until 1963 LSD, mescaline, and psilocybin were easy to obtain for clinical and experimental research; and until 1966 there were no state or federal criminal penalties for unauthorized possession, manufacture, and sale. Only after 1966, when Sandoz took its LSD off the market in response to the new laws and the new public atmosphere, was most of the LSD in circulation manufactured in illicit laboratories. Under the present comprehensive federal drug law, which was enacted in 1970, most "hallucinogens" including marihuana are classified as drugs with a high potential for abuse and no current medical use; possession for personal use is a misdemeanor, unauthorized manufacture or sale a felony. State laws are similar to the federal law.
One familiar effect of illegality is a decline in drug purity and quality. A common complaint, voiced by Kesey, Michael Hollingshead (the man who introduced LSD to Leary), and other connoisseurs, is that the illicit drug available after 1966 was not the same as pure Sandoz LSD: the trip provided by illicit LSD was a chaotic, mind-shattering, physically and emotionally exhausting roller coaster ride instead of a serene cruise with a clear view of Reality. The decline of the psychedelic movement has even been attributed to the loss of its sacrament. The irony of this is that it implies the inferiority of the natural plant form, which always contains a mixture of alkaloids; it also makes the purity of an anti-technological religious vision dependent on precision technology. What does the evidence show?
According to data compiled by the PharmChem Research Foundation, a California organization, the only psychedelic drugs now generally available on the street are LSD, PCP, and to a lesser extent MDA. Almost no one takes the trouble to manufacture mescaline or psilocybin, because their effects resemble those of LSD and the much larger amounts required make the expense too great. Mescaline is available only in the form of peyote buttons and psilocybin only in the form of psychedelic mushrooms, which have been discovered growing all over the United States; they are increasingly sought after in the wild (see Pollock 1975 a; Weil 1977 a) and, with difficulty, can also be cultivated (see Oss and Oeric 1976). (Many "psilocybin mushrooms," incidentally, are just commercial mushrooms laced with LSD.) Anything labeled as pure or synthetic mescaline, psilocybin, or tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) is almost certainly either LSD or PCP, or else contains no drug. Some chemicals closely related to LSD have been synthesized to sidestep the law; the one most often available is the acetylated variant, ALD-52, which is almost as potent as LSD itself. As for the quality of illicit LSD, adulterants and substitutes must be distinguished from products of improper synthesis. Since the variable physical and psychological effects of LSD sometimes resemble those of strychnine, belladonna, or amphetamine, there are rumors that illicit LSD often contains these substances. But laboratory analysis, especially the work of the PharmChem Research Foundation, shows that illicit LSD rarely contains adulterants, although the advertised dose is usually two to five times the actual one. The major problem is impurities that are by-products of careless or inadequate synthesis.
In the manufacturing process, ergotamine or other ergot alkaloids are reduced to Iysergic acid (d-lysergic acid monohydrate), which is then converted to LSD. The whole procedure, and especially the last stage, in which LSD is separated from iso-LSD by chromatography, is rather delicate; it requires skill and good equipment. The government has tried to cut off the supply of chemical precursors; but illicit chemists are usually able to obtain enough, because several ergot derivatives are used as medicines and the quantities needed are small by one estimate, 70 kg of ergotamine tartrate is enough to supply the American LSD market for a year (McGlothlin 1974 b). The only impurity regularly found by the PharmChem Laboratory, aside from occasional traces of ergotamine, is iso-LSD: it is very similar to LSD in chemical structure (the same atoms in a slightly different arrangement) but pharmacologically inactive. It is rarely present in a proportion of more than 15 percent and appears to have no effect on the drug action. So street LSD seems to be reasonably pure.
This assumption has been challenged, however. According to the well-known drug chemist A. T. Shulgin, for example, the methods used by PharmChem cannot reveal certain ergot derivatives and other substances that may be pharmacologically active. Another problem is that LSD must be stored away from the influence of light and the oxygen in the air; the breakdown product of its exposure to light, lumi-LSD, is probably not distinguishable from active LSD by PharmChem's methods. But the significance of impurities is very questionable. No other drug is as potent as LSD, and it is hard to see how microgram quantities of much less powerful substances could modify its effect. A mere deterioration in potency would not affect the nature of the experience. The insistence that everything went bad when the Sandoz product was removed from the market probably reflects not a real pharmacological difference but the illusion that all trips should be good trips unless something is seriously wrong with either the drug or its user. By not admitting that the effects of LSD can sometimes be chaotic, painful, or terrifying, the disillusioned former user may justify his apostasy without impugning the magical virtue of the sacrament itself.
LSD is odorless, colorless, and tasteless, and the small amounts needed can be stored in any number of ways. For example, painting it onto the fingernails and impregnating the cloth of a man's suit have been used for smuggling. In the early sixties sugar cubes were soaked in LSD, but this practice no longer exists. The most common forms today are blotter (impregnated paper), microdot (dried droplets on paper), "windowpane" or "clear light" (gelatin sheets), powder, and tablets. Sometimes a chemist identifies his product by a trademark like a particular color or symbol: in the sixties there was Orange Sunshine, and later names include White Rabbit and Blue Comet. The wholesale price in 1972 was $500 to $800 a gram; in 1977 it was about $2500 a gram, or twenty-five cents for a 100-microgram dose. The retail price in 1977 was between one and three dollars for a dose containing from 50 to 200 micrograms. (The average dose is 75 micrograms.) Since LSD is not a drug of habit—few people use it even as often as once a month—the cost is usually no obstacle to anyone who wants it. In 1972 it was estimated that sales in the United States amounted to $9,000,000 at the bulk level and $245,000,000 at retail for a total of 15 kilograms or 35 pounds. Since prices have tripled or quadrupled, this figure is now probably higher; but the LSD traffic is still far less lucrative than the trade in heroin, cocaine, amphetamines, barbiturates, or marihuana.
How much LSD has been or is being used? Life magazine estimated in.1966 that a million people had taken mescaline, LSD, or psilocybin; the FDA seized a million illegal doses in 1967 (Geller and Boas 1969, p. 180); in December 1967, the legendary psychedelic chemist Owsley (Augustus Owsley Stanley, III), patron of Kesey and the Grateful Dead rock group, was arrested holding 200 grams of LSD, or a million 200-microgram doses, as well as a large quantity of DOM (STP); the estimated production capacity of illicit laboratories uncovered by the authorities in 1967 was 40,000,000 doses (Brecher 1972, p. S66); in 1971 it was estimated that 5,000,000 Americans had used LSD (McGlothlin 1975).
There is a widespread impression that all of this is past, that in the late sixties everyone was taking psychedelic drugs and by the late seventies no one was. As early as 1971, Hunter Thompson wrote, They are still burning the taxpayers for thousands of dollars to make films about 'the dangers of LSD,' at a time when acid is widely known—to everybody but the cops—to be the Studebaker of the drug market; the popularity of psychedelics has fallen off so drastically that most volume dealers no longer even handle quality acid or mescaline except as a favor to special customers: Mainly jaded, over-thirty drug dilettantes—like me, and my attorney" (Thompson 1971, p. 201). But if the estimate of a total production of 15 kilograms is accepted, in 1972 150,000,000 hundred-microgram doses were sold—certainly not as much of a decline as Thompson implies. Actually, it appears that almost as many people are experimenting with psychedelic drugs now as in the late sixties, but fewer are taking them habitually, trying to build a vision of the universe and a way of life on them, or suffering unexpected disastrous reactions. The novelty is gone, their limitations and dangers are better understood and their virtues easier to put into perspective; as often happens after a new drug has been on the scene awhile, epidemic abuse has stopped. Culturally, LSD is not now a major signal of rebellion or cause for alarm any more than long hair on men.
Some statistics are appropriate here. Since 1968, surveys of LSD use have been conducted among high school seniors in San Mateo County, California, which is in the San Francisco Bay area, a center of the drug culture. On a questionnaire asking how often they had taken LSD in the last twelve months, students gave about the same answers in 1974 as they gave in 1968 when publicity about LSD was at its height. In 1968, 18 percent had used LSD at least once, and 8 percent had used it ten or more times; in 1974 these figures were 23 percent and 9 percent. The high point was 1972, when the answers were 25 percent and 11 percent (McGlothlin 1975). At the Haight-Ashbury Free Medical Clinic, in September 1967, 85 percent of the patients had used LSD at least once, and 67 percent had used it in the previous month; in September 1972, 84 percent had used it at least once, but only 30 percent in the previous month (Eagle 1975). Fifteen to 20 percent of the undergraduates in the class of 1969 at "an Eastern university, apparently Harvard, had taken LSD (Pope 1971, p. 7). A 1970 study of 5,482 Army enlisted men showed that 7 percent had used LSD (Black et al. 1970).
A study by the National Institute on Drug Abuse based on information collected from October 1974 to May 1975 from a sample of 2,500 men in their twenties shows the following: Twenty-two percent of them had used psychedelic drugs; 10 percent had used them ten or more times; only 23 percent of those who had used them had done so in the previous year, and only 8 percent in the previous month. Seven percent of the sample, or 34 percent of those who had ever used psychedelic drugs, used them between 1974 and 1975 and therefore were "current users"; by extrapolation, 1,370,000 men in their twenties qualified for this designation. The prevalence of use reached a high of 10 percent in 1972 and declined to 6 percent by 1974; psychedelics were the only drugs showing such a decline. Men born between 1952 and 1954, the youngest in the sample, had the highest rate of use—about 30 percent; of men born in 1944, only 6 percent had ever taken the drugs. Thirty-two percent of the sample said psychedelic drugs were easy to obtain, and 38 percent said it was difficult but possible. Twenty percent of the users reported some ill effects; 35 percent of all users and 48 percent of those who used the drugs ten or more times thought the overall effect good; 1.3 percent of all users—seven men in the sample—had been treated for problems arising from psychedelic drugs. (The term "psychedelic drugs' was not defined, and to some people it may have meant PCP as well as LSD.) (O Donnell et al. 1976.)
The impression of a continuing decline in use is confirmed by other studies. A Drug Abuse Warning Network (DAWN) survey indicated that 4.3 percent of youths aged between 12 and 17 in 1974, and 2.8 percent of youths in that age group in 1975 had taken psychedelic drugs; for adults, the figures were 1.5 percent and 1.1 percent (Strategy Council 1976, p. 15). The National Survey on Drug Abuse: 1977, published by the National Institute on Drug Abuse and based on a sample of 4,594 subjects, shows that 6 percent of the total population of the United States over the age of twelve, about 10,000,000 people, have used hallucinogenic drugs; about 0.7 percent (1,140,000) are current users. In the 18 to 25 age group, 20 percent have used hallucinogens and 2 percent are current users (National Survey 1977).
There is now a stable pattern: a small but not negligible minority of young people in their teens and early twenties, including a relatively large proportion of the undergraduates at academically selective colleges, take LSD several times over a period of a year or two and then stop. Very few use it continually or go on using it for long. (Thompson is wrong in supposing that most users are "jaded, over-thirty drug dilettantes'-trying to recapture the excitement of the mid-1960s.) The only psychedelic drugs still rising in popularity (if PCP is not considered a true psychedelic) are MDA and psilocybin mushrooms, both prized for gentleness.
Psychedelic drugs, then, are still with us, but the psychedelic movement has disappeared. Its unity proved to be spurious, its staying power a false hope. As Thompson regretfully observes,
This was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling consciousness expansion without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him too seriously... Not that they didn't deserve it No doubt they all Got What was coming To Them All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create ... a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture the desperate assumption that somebody—or at least someforce—is tending that Light at the end of the tunnel. " (Thompson 1971, pp. 78-179)
Psychedelic drugs could sustain cults but not a culture; the hippies could not live up to their own hopes any more than they could justify the fears of their enemies. From the start the movement was amorphous, muddled, with great variations in participation and commitment. Occasional masters or gurus, often older men, provided philosophical justifications and political guidance; a few hippies were organized into communes and tribes and manned the institutions of the culture; but many were dropouts, some of them runaways, who drifted into the life with no clear conception of what they wanted or were rejecting and drifted out again in a few years after succeeding or failing in the transition to adulthood; and an even larger number were never more than "weekend" or "plastic" hippies, tourists wearing native garb whose idea of the scene was derived from psychedelic travel posters. Most of the young people who might once have been called hippies by the mass media or even described themselves that way never grasped much more than an opportunity to find drugs, sex, excitement, freedom from rules and restrictions, or, most touchingly, a home and family away from their homes and families. They were "the simple hippies, the stray teeny-boppers, the runaways, the summer dropouts—the micro-organisms without power of locomotion that hung in the heavy water pool of Haight-Ashbury waiting for the more complex creatures to inhale them into their mouths and ingest them into their bellies where they could be food'-(von Hoffman 1968, p. 193)—and, if they did not find their way out, potential victims for a man like Charles Manson.
Since there was less than met the Day-Glo-bedazzled eye to start with, the inevitable decline should have been no surprise. But in fact it proved desperately and unreasonably disappointing. As Hunter Thompson testified, it left behind an inarticulate sense that some irrecoverable significance, some unique opportunity for transcendence and rebirth, had been lost; this was the social counterpart of the LSD user's emotions on returning from a psychedelic voyage. A participant wrote in the late 1960s that 'hate and love seem to be merging in a sense of cosmic failure, a pervasive feeling that everything is disintegrating, including the counter-culture itself, and that we really have nowhere to go." (Goldman 1971, p. 159). This feeling can only seem sentimental, far in excess of its object, without some knowledge of the transformations the mind undergoes through LSD.
As the disintegration proceeded, pieces picked themselves up and moved off in various directions, which can be represented symbolically by Methedrine, Marxism (or Maoism), Marihuana, and Meditation. Progressing from psychedelic drugs to intravenous injection of Methedrine (methamphetamine) and then addiction to depressants (alcohol, barbiturates, and heroin) was one form of the descent into despair and misery that revealed how much in the drug culture had always been pathological. The high language about love and community emanating from the few articulate leaders admired by sympathetic observers obscured a great deal of sordid reality. The hippie world's benign tolerance for eccentricity, its refusal to judge, make rules, or exclude, and its programmatic lack of discipline had attracted unstable persons who not only would not but could not make lives for themselves in straight society—from adolescents in turmoil to borderline psychotics like Charles Manson and antisocial characters like the Hell s Angels. The drug culture had no resources to protect itself against those who joined it to disguise, justify, or alleviate their disturbed conditions. For the same reasons it was easily corrupted by drug dealers' profiteering and co-opted by commercial exploitation of its superficial symbols; in part it was created by newspaper and television publicity, and its relationship with the mass media, both orthodox and "underground," was intimately symbiotic. Nicholas von Hoffman wrote in 1968:
The advertising campaign which sold acid has to be among the great feats of American merchandising.... The dope style is more than empty inventive facility—the creativity of the account executive. It carries meaning at many levels. The most obvious has been using it to connect the product, as do automobile manufacturers, with youth and modernity; but like Avis, except more successfully, the dope industry identifies its merchandise with the deeper emotions. Avis uses the underdog theme. The dope pushers connect their stuff with nothing less than God, infinity, eternal truth, morality, every soteriological value the society has.... The mass media ... are ill-adapted to picking up and describing complex social phenomena. This is one reason they become the unknowing means of dope advertising.... Dope was associated with ideas which have no necessary connection with the dope business the sharing, the search for community, the looking for an alternate way of life, the love and flower-power themes. (von Hoffman 1968, pp. 42-44)
Psychedelic ideology rejected the coercive mechanisms of society on principle; it permitted no systematic distinction between inspired originality, eccentricity, and madness, or between a capacity to transcend the demands of routine social adjustments and an inability to live up to them. The same improvisatory and happy-go-lucky attitudes that gave the drug culture its charm—its childlike or childish aspect—also meant disorganization and formlessness; the playful hippie ethic, which corresponded to Leary's ideas about the game-nature of ordinary life, could not sustain permanent institutions because it did not recognize steadfastness, discipline, and responsibility as autonomous virtues. Hippies could be endearing and sporadically inventive, but they often acted like spoiled children, and one of their defining characteristics was unreliability. Problems requiring concentration or sustained effort were often dismissed irritably with the word "hassle." Man cannot live by drugs alone, and except for the drug trade, economic dependence on the ostensibly scorned straight society was unavoidable; sometimes the munificent parent of one resident would be supporting a whole commune. The psychological community of a collective LSD trip was inadequate as a model for genuine communities; it suggested no working arrangements for ordinary life.
The drug culture's downward path is retraced in detail in Love Needs Care, David E. Smith's and John Luce's chronicle of the rise and decline of the Haight-Ashbury hippie community from 1965 to 1969. Haight-Ashbury became a center of the counterculture in 1965 with the opening of a psychedelic shop selling drug paraphernalia. It was enriched by an influx from the nearby North Beach area of Beat Generation fame, and attracted the attention of the mass media after the Be-In or Gathering of the Tribes in Golden Gate Park in January 1967. The press spread rumors that 100,000 migrants would be coming that summer. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy that attracted many young people to the dubiously named Summer of Love, sometimes regarded as the flood tide of the drug culture. If it was, the ebb began immediately and was precipitous; by January of 1968 most of the flower children had abandoned the scene and it was dominated by speed freaks, addicts, alcoholics, motorcycle hoodlums, and the teenage runaways and schizoid or inadequate personalities they preyed on. Hepatitis, bronchitis, venereal disease, decayed teeth, malnutrition, and untreated cuts and burns, always problems in urban hippie enclaves, had become pervasive (Smith and Luce 1971).
Haight Street served as a kind of laboratory that provided advance signals of the consequences of tendencies implicit in the movement from the start. The early rural communes, for example, unable to exclude or reject anyone and incapable of managing their affairs, tended to fall apart in chaos (see Yablonsky 1968). The Woodstock Rock Festival of 1969 and the talk of a Woodstock Nation for years afterward seemed to prove that the counterculture still had some life. But Woodstock was mainly a gathering of "plastic hippies": middle-class young people on vacation, many of whom lived with their parents or in college dormitories. The Altamont Rock Festival of 1970, with its murderous culmination, was sometimes proclaimed to be the counterculture's final self-inflicted blow. But the problems had been inherent from the start. Charles Manson had been taking LSD with his "family" in Haight-Ashbury during the Summer of Love, and the summer of Woodstock was also the summer of the Tate and LaBianca murders. Robert Stone s prizewinning novel Dog Soldiers (197S) conveys the atmosphere of desolation left in some regions by the death of the counterculture; the plot centers on heroin smuggling, the dream of psychedelic utopia is represented by a pathetic remnant in a New Mexico commune, and the only winners are coolly manipulative cynics with no cultural commitments at all. Everything about Manson, including the form his delusions took, was a perfect malicious caricature of hippie beliefs and the hippie way of life. The world of Dog Soldierswas the next stage.
Chaos, crime, and addictive drugs were one way out; another direction was radical politics. Relations between cultural and political revolutionaries had always been strained. The general tendency of the hippie movement was apolitical or antipolitical: Leary's notion of neurological politics meant no politics at all in the conventional sense; if each person changed himself, the sum of all the individual conversions would somehow amount to a new social order. The protest implicit in being tuned-in and dropped-out was not easy to reconcile with ordinary political protest. Wolfe describes Kesey's attitude toward a demonstration against the Vietnam War: "Come rally against the war in Vietnam. From the cosmic vantage point the Pranksters had reached, there were so many reasons why this little charade was pathetic, they didn't know where to begin" (Wolfe 1969  p. 192). When the day came, Kesey's antics dampened the militant mood of the demonstrators. To many people psychedelic drugs seemed the most important thing that had ever happened to them, and political issues were no more significant to someone on an LSD trip than they are in dreams. The drug made political quarrels seem trivial and political action ephemeral and foolish; nothing that lay between the agonizingly personal and the grandly cosmic really mattered. Radicals naturally complained that retreat into a drugged dream-world was incompatible with any kind of politics, however broadly interpreted; and they took the hippies' intimate relationship with the mass media and technological capitalism as proof of how easily a merely cosmic revolution could be absorbed by the dominant social system.
But traditional affinities between bohemianism and dissenting political activism were also present. New Left philosophers like Herbert Marcuse promoted the notion of altering the cultural context of politics to overturn a form of domination that was not just externally oppressive but corrupting to the very heart and soul of its victims. The new radicals of the sixties also had in common with the hippies an interest in participatory democracy, and the political use of the idea of alienation was similar to the counterculture's critique of industrial society. Most important, there was (or seemed to be) a common enemy. The underground press was a mixture of rude radical politics and fantastic hippie nonpolitics, aimed at being as offensive as possible to the sensibilities of straight society. Hippies and radicals were expressing the same disgust in different ways. The convergence was closest from 1968 to 1971, at the height of campus rebellion and Vietnam War protest, as some of the undissipated rebellious energies of the disintegrating drug culture were diverted into politics. Abbie Hoffman and others founded the Youth International Party or Yippies in 1968 as a kind of politicized Merry Pranksters. During the conspiracy trial for the demonstration at the 1968 Democratic Convention, Hoffman and his fellow defendant Jerry Rubin, with the cooperation of the judge, aimed at undermining the decorum of the legal system to destroy its authority. But this hippie-radical alliance proved to be a temporary phase too. The underground newspapers became more respectable, or more straightforwardly political, or they disappeared; the Vietnam War ended, and mass demonstrations were no longer available to provide an opportunity for displays of New Left and hippie theatricality. The careers of Tim Leary and Eldridge Cleaver suggest how this whole constellation has disappeared: they started from separate points in drug proselytizing and political radicalism, became allies for a short time in the late sixties, and now, after imprisonment, exile, and further vicissitudes, have given up both drugs and radical politics.
Methedrine and Marxism indicate two directions; marihuana represents a third. Radical politics or addictive drugs absorbed only a few of the people who had temporarily assumed the habits and language of the counterculture; most of them returned to more or less conventional lives. As usual after a conversion, there was much backsliding. Even for those who did not abandon them, psychedelic drugs ceased to imply cultural radicalism. LSD was taken more casually, for pleasure, without apocalyptic expectations; often its more profound effects were deliberately suppressed:
There are like six people sitting in a room tripping, and grooving on the pretty colors, and suddenly Jane starts getting into something heavy. She begins to realize that acid is a bigger thing than just seeing colors, and she begins to get deep into it and get frightened. Then somebody looks over and grins and says, "Whassa matta, Jane, you freaking out?" And either she snaps back into seeing the colors thing or she gets real frightened and never takes acid again. (Pope 1971, p. 36)
But, as this quotation indicates, LSD was not a reliable pleasure drug: ecstasy is not fun. People who used psychedelic drugs mainly for what they defined as pleasure tended to stop sooner than those who had more serious and complex purposes. Illicit drug users looking for something that would not disrupt their normal routines returned to substances like marihuana and cocaine, which have reliably euphoric effects and do not alter consciousness too much. Both have become increasingly acceptable as everyday social drugs; they are used simply to feel good, and not as a source of cultural identity. The magazine High Times is the Playboy of these new drug users. Despite some halfhearted counterculture rhetoric, its casual tone is very different from the rage and exaltation of the drug-culture press of the 1960s, and its readers no more constitute a subculture than do readers of Gourmetor whiskey drinkers. Psychedelic drugs play a relatively small part in their lives.
Everything is back to normal, then; but normality itself is different, and not only in the increasing acceptability of marihuana as a pleasure drug. As the epithet "mind detergent" implies, in some circumstances LSD had a kind of brainwashing power; it could induce the feeling of having achieved a new identity through death and rebirth of the self. Even after this feeling faded, it often seemed that nothing would ever be quite the same again. The psychedelic voyage, like any adventure, changed the traveler. There were subtle differences in the sensibilities and interests of LSD users who turned off and dropped back in; they can be symbolized by Meditation, the fourth direction we have named for former followers of the psychedelic movement.
Transcendental Meditation is the simplest and most popular of the therapies and religious techniques sometimes described as transcendental or mystical. Most had existed long before psychedelic drugs became popular—some for thousands of years—but the residue of the psychedelic experience created an enormous new interest in them. Spokesmen for the drug culture very early began to refer to the danger of emphasizing LSD itself too much. Kesey was one of the first: "What I told the hippies was that LSD can be a door that one uses to open his mind to new realms of experience, but many hippies are using it just to keep going through the door over and over again, without trying to learn anything from it (Wolfe 1969 , p. 201). Ram Dass said in 1970, "I think LSD is making itself obsolete. All acid does is show you the possibility of another type of consciousness and give you hope. But your own impurities keep bringing you down.... After a while you dig that if you want to stay high, you have to work on yourself" (Playboy Panel 1970, p. 201). In a 1968 study of Berkeley and Haight-Ashbury LSD users, half of them said they would give up the drug on the advice of a trusted mystic (Cohen 1973). The most common reason why people stopped using LSD, more common than worry about mental and physical health and far more common than fear of legal penalties, was the belief that LSD itself had enabled them to go "beyond" it, by transcending the need for it.
The psychedelic movement did not create the revolution it had promised, but it was more than a brief trip, a Ghost Dance for white middle-class youth. Many of the several million people who used LSD never abandoned the idea that in some sense they had achieved expanded awareness. They believed they had understood for the first time what the sages of prescientific and antiscientific traditions were talking about:
Many people in the acid world have taken up the occult sciences, I Ching, tarot cards, astrology, and numerology Their interest flows from their acid experiences which, they believe, have given them new sensitivities and glimpses of ways of knowing and feeling that the categorical rationalism of the west fails to pick up or even denies.... Larry [a former graduate student in mathematics] now views his academic studies as denatured—inhuman beside the important points of life. Acid set him to reading Eastern religion and put him in pursuit of cabbalistic learning. (von Hoffman 968, p. 188)
Psychedelic drugs opened to mass tourism mental territories previously explored only by small parties of particularly intrepid adventurers, mainly religious mystics. Most of the tourists simply returned with a memory of having seen something important but no idea how to interpret it or incorporate it into their lives. But some decided to make their own attempts at exploration without drugs, and they discovered that religious traditions had the best maps—especially the religions of India. The drugs whetted metaphysical appetites that Eastern religion promised to satisfy. This project had great advantages over the drug culture in seriousness and permanence. Eastern gurus were relatively immune to the curiosity of the mass media or condescending sociological expertise: they were neither sensational enough (since sex and drugs were not involved) nor easily subject to analysis on Western terms. Their rules, prohibitions, and insistence on arduous training were a relief to recruits weary of the drug culture's indiscipline and its anarchy of standards. Young people who had never learned self-discipline or even considered it important now discovered that it could order and enrich their lives; this may have mattered more than any of the specific spiritual techniques in maintaining a sense of community and psychological stability.
There were other factors as well. One perceptive observer has identified a common goal of detoxification on the journey to the East. To realize the ideals of simplicity and naturalness suggested but not achieved by the drug culture, it was necessary to get rid of technical aids that were seen as impure and ultimately in some sense poisonous. Many of those who turned to Eastern disciplines came to regard drugs as pollutants that overload the senses, distract the mind, and prevent the user from attaining the goals they allow him to glimpse. They were seen as dangerous and somehow fraudulent, artificial in a bad sense, like many other chemicals in the air of industrial society. People who now sought spontaneity and self-transcendence in all their experience could no longer tolerate confining them to unusual chemically induced states, especially ones that depended on drug technology. So doubts about Western science and industry already present in the drug culture, as well as the concern for purity and wholeness represented by the ecology movement, led to a rejection of psychedelic drugs (Pope 1974; see also Cox 1977).
The novelist and explorer Peter Matthiessen described his passage beyond LSD:
I never saw drugs as a path, far less as a way of life, but for the next ten years I used them regularly—mostly L8D but also mescaline and psilocybin. The journeys were all scaring, often beautiful, often grotesque, and here and there a blissful passage was attained that in my ignorance I took for religious experience....
Liberal capitalist industrial society has absorbed a cultural movement that implausibly promised to transform it out of recognition. This absorptive or adaptive capacity has been decried by philosophers like Marcuse who consider it a means of neutralizing all opposition and emptying it of meaning. But in fact society to some extent becomes what it consumes; the adaptation has not been all on one side, and the drug culture has modified habits and ways of thinking in more important matters than marihuana smoking or long hair. Forays across the border of ordinary waking awareness are no longer merely a hobby for cranks and fringe groups or spontaneous individual adventures without public status. Psychedelic drugs made common coin of the term 'altered states of consciousness" by greatly simplifying access to these states and therefore promoting their systematic exploration. As this exploration proceeds, with and without drugs, a certain limited degree of consensus is developing about the importance and the (in some yet to be determined sense) reality of the experiences that occur in such states, and more and more study is aimed at placing this new consensual reality in relation to religious and metaphysical traditions as well as the very different consensual realities of common sense and science.
This was undoubtedly the most important cultural change that psychedelic drugs produced. They released new forces into the consciousness of millions of people. These forces might be seen as good, evil, or morally ambiguous; they might be regarded as coming from within, as an upsurge from the unconscious mind, or from beyond, as a revelation from other planes of existence, or some way to reconcile these interpretations might be sought. In any case, they raised theoretical and practical issues that seemed to tax the combined resources of modern science and the more ancient branches of human wisdom. It was as though a country previously known to us only through occasional travelers' tales in which it was hard to separate reportage from imagination was now being visited not only by tourists but by geographers and anthropologists who could compare their observations, put them into a common language, and arrange them in a theoretical order. A mass of new experience was provided for the intellect to master or be mastered by. Furthermore, the implications for the conduct of life sometimes seemed literally tremendous (marvelous, terrible, capable of making one tremble). Only a few people allowed their lives to be totally changed by the psychedelic message (which was ambiguous anyway, like all the verdicts of oracles), but no one who received it was completely untouched. LSD is no longer held out as a way to transform the world, but many people retain a powerful sense of incompletely explored emotional and intellectual possibilities, of something felt as intensely real and not yet explained or explained away. To determine how much this is justified, we have to consider more closely the actual effects of psychedelic drugs and the questions they raise about the human mind and the universe.
Footnotes1. As we were going to press, a book on CIA mind control projects was published (Marks 1979). It relies on interviews and on documents obtained from the government through the Freedom of Information Act to expose CIA funding and encouragement of behavioral science research, including LSD and other psychedelic drug experiments, during the 1950s and early l9t;0s. To call inadequate the standards of consent and protection for human research subjects employed in some of this work would be an understatement; an example is the practice of administering LSD to people who were not told what drug they were taking or, in some cases, that they had taken a drug at all. Marks also shows once again that in Cold War days academics favored military and intelligence agencies with an attitude of casual acceptance derived from an almost unthinking patriotism that would be inconceivable today. However, it is impossible to take seriously Marks' suggestion that the needs of the CIA were a major source of academic interest in LSD and, by diffusion, of the drug culture. These phenomena had their own intellectual and social roots independent of and sometimes opposed to government interests. (back)
2. For autobiographical remarks from some of the more articulate hippies on the role LSD played in their lives, see Wolf 1968.
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