Tag: The 60s

(the following is an excerpt from my book)

There is an absolutely brilliant 92Y interview that Hamilton Morris, one of the most prominent psychedelic advocates in America, did of Michael Pollan, the mainstream journalist who recently wrote a book on the current renaissance called How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression, and Transcendence. I think the book will probably ultimately be positive for the movement to mainstream psychedelics simply because he is such a square type of mainstream media figure, normies will be far more inclined to read him less antagonistically than they would read someone like me.

But he does problematically talk mad shit on Dr. Leary and the counterculture in that book, which is why Hamilton’s interview was so great. He pushed back on Pollan’s central thesis, which is that psychedelics seem like they could be great psychiatric medicines, but there is not enough science yet to fully prove their efficacy and they need to be used in strictly controlled clinical settings with guides to help people through their trips. As somebody who has tripped hundreds of times and never had a “guide,” I really object to the assertion that everybody needs a professional tripsitter in order to do these things safely and get great benefits out of them. Surely, it would be great if guides were available to folks who wanted one, especially on their first psychonautical expedition, but most people can get on just fine without one.

My favorite part of the interview was when Hamilton makes a profound analogy between the Prohibition on psychedelics and a hypothetical Prohibition on music. It’s perfect because both of those cultural phenomena are quite similarly foundational to the human experience:

“And of course I agree with all this, you know, I’m a believer. I want all of this to be true. I want them to be legal. I want them to be medicines. I want all this research to have tremendously promising results, but I’m also extremely worried because I think if we look at them exclusively as medicines and don’t emphasize just cognitive liberty—the freedom to do things regardless of whether or not they’re medicinal—it’d be like if somebody made music illegal, and instead of saying, “Well it should just be legal because why not? Just make it legal; it doesn’t hurt anyone,” everyone said, “Oh, no, we can prove that it’s a medicine. And then, if it’s a medicine, then then it’s okay for everyone to use it. And look, it actually helps people with neurodegenerative diseases and certain people with PTSD if they listen to a certain type of music under very controlled circumstances, it can actually be tremendously therapeutic. We need to make this legal.” But then it would cost money and the whole thing would be a mess, and you would sort of neglect the overarching issue, which is: Why is this even controlled in the first place?”

❝ In the era of colorblindness, it is no longer socially permissible to use race, explicitly, as a justification for discrimination, exclusion, and social contempt. Yet, as legal star Michelle Alexander reveals, today it is perfectly legal to discriminate against convicted criminals in nearly all the ways that it was once legal to discriminate against African Americans. Once you’re labeled a felon, the old forms of discrimination―employment discrimination, housing discrimination, denial of the right to vote, denial of educational opportunity, denial of food stamps and other public benefits, and exclusion from jury service―are suddenly legal. ❞

❝ In the early 1960s, computers haunted the American popular imagination. Bleak tools of the cold war, they embodied the rigid organization and mechanical conformity that made the military-industrial complex possible. But by the 1990s—and the dawn of the Internet—computers started to represent a very different kind of world: a collaborative and digital utopia modeled on the communal ideals of the hippies who so vehemently rebelled against the cold war establishment in the first place.

From Counterculture to Cyberculture is the first book to explore this extraordinary and ironic transformation. Fred Turner here traces the previously untold story of a highly influential group of San Francisco Bay–area entrepreneurs: Stewart Brand and the Whole Earth network. Between 1968 and 1998, via such familiar venues as the National Book Award–winning Whole Earth Catalog, the computer conferencing system known as WELL, and, ultimately, the launch of the wildly successful Wired magazine, Brand and his colleagues brokered a long-running collaboration between San Francisco flower power and the emerging technological hub of Silicon Valley. Thanks to their vision, counterculturalists and technologists alike joined together to reimagine computers as tools for personal liberation, the building of virtual and decidedly alternative communities, and the exploration of bold new social frontiers.

Shedding new light on how our networked culture came to be, this fascinating book reminds us that the distance between the Grateful Dead and Google, between Ken Kesey and the computer itself, is not as great as we might think. âťž

❝ How does our fascination with technology intersect with the religious imagination? In TechGnosis—a cult classic now updated and reissued with a new afterword—Erik Davis argues that while the realms of the digital and the spiritual may seem worlds apart, esoteric and religious impulses have in fact always permeated (and sometimes inspired) technological communication. Davis uncovers startling connections between such seemingly disparate topics as electricity and alchemy; online roleplaying games and religious and occult practices; virtual reality and gnostic mythology; programming languages and Kabbalah. The final chapters address the apocalyptic dreams that haunt technology, providing vital historical context as well as new ways to think about a future defined by the mutant intermingling of mind and machine, nightmare and fantasy. ❞

âťť (Excerpt) In addition, there were the politics that plagued our ecstatic enterprises themselves, no matter how we twisted and squirmed to escape it. Many a commune, demonstration, or love-in wrecked on the twin shoals of property and control. Then, too, there were the political fires kindled by the friction of latter-day ecstasy cults rubbing up against the stiff hide of the old iguana-brained Establishment.

It is an understatement to write that Timothy Leary was privy to this stormy marriage of the mundane and the rapturous. Simultaneously observer and participant, Dr. Leary analyzed events around him even as he helped make them happen. Boundlessly energetic, keenly insightful, he was uniquely qualified to work both sides of Heisenberg Street. Imagine him studiously taking notes even as he skated on one foot along the vibrating rim of an indole ring. âťž