Set, Setting and...Capitalism? Why the Psychedelic Renaissance Risks Losing Its Soul
“The system cannot be changed by the same consciousness that created it.”
—Terence McKenna
The psychedelic renaissance is in full bloom. Once relegated to underground ceremonies and hushed conversations, psychedelics are now being repackaged as innovative treatments for depression, PTSD, and existential despair. They’re showing up in prestigious medical journals, venture capital portfolios, and glossy Instagram ads.
And while many of us (myself included) celebrate the growing access to these ancient and transformative tools, we also need to talk about the elephant in the medicine circle: capitalism is co-opting the psychedelic movement.
And if we’re not careful, it will exploit, dilute, and ultimately destroy the very soul of this healing work.
The Pattern Is All Too Familiar
Capitalism has a long and storied history of taking sacred, community-centered practices and turning them into profit machines. Yoga was once a discipline of spiritual development—now it’s a multi-billion dollar industry dominated by white influencers and Lululemon leggings. Mindfulness, originally a path to liberation, is now a productivity tool in Silicon Valley boardrooms.
Psychedelics are next.
We’re already seeing:
Patent wars over naturally occurring compounds like psilocybin
Psychedelic venture capital firms investing in for-profit ketamine clinics and synthetic alternatives
Celebrity retreats offering curated “medicine journeys” for $10,000 a week
Clinical models that extract the compound but ignore the culture, ritual, and integration
Capitalism doesn't understand the sacred. It sees opportunity where there should be reverence.
Healing for the Highest Bidder?
Let’s be real: the future of psychedelics, as envisioned by most biotech startups, is not one of collective healing. It’s a sterile clinic, a synthetic pill, a subscription-based integration app. It's someone else owning the rights to your mystical experience.
But psychedelic healing is not a product. It’s not scalable. It’s slow, unpredictable, deeply human, and sometimes deeply uncomfortable. It demands presence, humility, and connection. None of which are particularly profitable.
As author and activist Bayo Akomolafe writes:
Trauma as a Commodity
We must also grapple with how trauma itself is becoming commodified. Your pain, your depression, your longing for meaning—all of it can now be branded and monetized.
Yes, these medicines can help. Profoundly. But what does it mean when only the privileged can afford to access that healing? What does it mean when indigenous communities are excluded from the benefits of the very traditions they’ve safeguarded for generations?
Where is the reciprocity?
Another Way Is Possible
The psychedelic movement doesn’t need to mimic the very systems that made us sick. It doesn’t need to “scale.” It needs to root.
It needs:
Land-based community healing
Sliding-scale, donation-based, and free offerings
Training and support for BIPOC, queer, disabled, and marginalized practitioners
Legal frameworks that center decriminalization, not commercialization
Reparations and land-back initiatives that honor the indigenous stewards of these medicines
We don’t need more psychedelic startups.
We need more community-minded people, willing to walk with others through the dark, and return with wisdom—not profit shares.
This Is a Spiritual Battle
Psychedelics aren’t just tools. They are teachers. And they don’t just show us the light—they show us the decay.
This movement is a chance to remember what really matters: connection, community, ceremony, Earth, reciprocity, and love.
If we allow capitalism to define the future of psychedelics, we lose the very magic that makes them powerful. We lose the mystery. The awe. The deep remembering of what it means to be human in a web of life.
So let’s be vigilant. Let’s work towards maintaining something different.
Something sacred.
Something un-buyable.