Today, however, human chemical dependence plays a more conscious role than ever before in
the formation and maintenance of cultural values.
Since the middle of the nineteenth century and with ever-greater speed and efficiency, organic
chemistry has placed into the hands of researchers, physicians, and ultimately everyone an
endless cornucopia of synthetic drugs. These drugs are more powerful, more effective, of
greater duration, and in some cases, many times more addictive than their natural relatives. (An
exception is cocaine, which, although a natural product, when refined, concentrated, and
injected is particularly destructive.)
The rise of a global information culture has led to the ubiquity of information on the
recreational, aphrodisiacal, stimulating, sedative, and psychedelic plants that have been
discovered by inquisitive human beings living in remote and previously unconnected parts of
the planet. At the same time that this flood of botanical and ethnographic information arrived in
Western society, grafting other cultures' habits onto our own and giving us greater choices than
ever, great strides were being made in the synthesis of complex organic molecules and in the
understanding of the molecular machinery of genes and heredity. These new insights and
technologies are contributing to a very different culture of psychopharmacological engineering.
Designer drugs such as MDMA, or Ecstasy, and anabolic steroids used by athletes and
teenagers to stimulate muscle development are harbingers of an era of ever more frequent and
effective pharmacological intervention in how we look, perform, and feel.
The notion of regulating, on a planetary scale, first hundreds and then thousands of easily
produced, highly sought after, but illegal synthetic substances is appalling to anyone who hopes
for a more open and less regimented future.
AN ARCHAIC REVIVAL
This book will explore the possibility of a revival of the Archaicor preindustrial and
preliterate-attitude toward community, substance use, and nature-an attitude that served our
nomadic prehistoric ancestors long and well, before the rise of the current cultural style we call
"Western." The Archaic refers to the Upper Paleolithic, a period seven to ten thousand years in
the past, immediately preceding the invention and dissemination of agriculture. The Archaic
was a time of nomadic pastoralism and partnership, a culture based on cattle-raising,
shamanism, and Goddess worship.
I have organized the discussion in a roughly chronological order, with the last and most
future-oriented sections taking up and recasting the Archaic themes of the early chapters. The
argument proceeds along the lines of a pharmacological pilgrim's progress. Thus I have called
the four sections of the book "Paradise," "Paradise Lost," "Hell," and, hopefully not too
optimistically, "Paradise Regained?" A glossary of special terms appears at the end of the book.
Obviously, we cannot continue to think about drug use in the same old ways. As a global
society, we must find a new guiding image for our culture, one that unifies the aspirations of
humanity with the needs of the planet and the individual. Analysis of the existential
incompleteness within us that drives us to form relationships of dependency and addiction with
plants and drugs will show that at the dawn of history, we lost something precious, the absence
of which has made us ill with narcissism. Only a recovery of the relationship that we evolved
with nature through use of psychoactive plants before the fall into history can offer us hope of a
humane and open-ended future.
Before we commit ourselves irrevocably to the chimera of a drugfree culture purchased at the
price of a complete jettisoning of the ideals of a free and democratic planetary society, we must
ask hard questions: Why, as a species, are we so fascinated by altered states of consciousness?
What has been their impact on our esthetic and spiritual aspirations? What have we lost by
denying the legitimacy of each individual's drive to use substances to experience personally the
transcendental and the sacred? My hope is that answering these questions will force us to
confront the consequences of denying nature's spiritual dimension, of seeing nature as nothing
more than a "resource" to be fought over and plundered. Informed discussion of these issues
will give no comfort to the control-obsessed, no comfort to know-nothing religious
fundamentalism, no comfort to beige fascism of whatever form.
The question of how we, as a society and as individuals, relate to psychoactive plants in the late
twentieth century, raises a larger question: how, over time, have we been shaped by the shifting
alliances that we have formed and broken with various members of the vegetable world as we
have made our way through the maze of history? This is a question that will occupy us in some
detail in the chapters to come.