An Open Letter to Psychedelic Journalists

I like writing about aspects of the psychedelic ecosystem, as well as interviewing people who I find interesting. I don’t consider myself a journalist in the classic sense simply because I am not objective. I have too many opinions and frequently sprinkle them throughout my work.

I’ve become aware of a troubling trend in the rise of a new breed of content creators: psychedelic journalists who are not only reporting on psychedelic issues but are also rapidly becoming high-profile influencers.

Historically, journalism has served as a critical, objective lens through which the public understands complex issues. In the realm of psychedelics, the past decade has seen an explosion of reporting on clinical trials, personal narratives, retreat centers, and policy reform. The digital age has blurred the boundaries between journalism and social media influence. Some journalists are now building personal brands, amassing large followings, and being tempted to monetize their platforms and receive other benefits without transparency. This shift is particularly pronounced in the psychedelic sphere, where the line between reporting, advocacy, and self-promotion is increasingly indistinct.

Now don’t get me wrong, for I am not without sin. I would love to be offered a free 7-day ibogaine retreat or a comped berth on the recent 9-day Wonder Cruise to Antarctica, where I could rub elbows with the likes of Paul Stamets and Rick Doblin. After all, not having to pay a fee that went as high as $24,000 would be pretty tempting for any journalist. But it just might be crossing the line if anything I subsequently reported did not reveal that I was receiving a benefit and special treatment.

The influencer economy thrives on sensationalism and personal stories. In the context of psychedelics, this often translates into glowing testimonials, dramatic before-and-after accounts, and bold claims regarding healing or enlightenment. While personal narratives can be compelling and relatable, they are not a substitute for rigorous, evidence-based reporting.

Many individuals seeking information on psychedelics are vulnerable, grappling with treatment-resistant depression, PTSD, addiction, or existential distress. For these audiences, the difference between responsible journalism and influencer promotion is not merely academic, it can be a matter of safety. When journalists become influencers, their words carry added weight, and any misrepresentation or omission can have real-world consequences.

Ethical journalism demands a duty of care to the audience, especially when reporting on substances that can profoundly impact mental health. Influencer culture, by contrast, often prioritizes engagement and growth over caution and nuance. This fundamental tension is at the heart of the danger posed by the rise of psychedelic journalists as influencers.

The Temptation of Shilling

‘Shilling’ is defined as promotion without revealing the personal gain received. In the psychedelic world, this most commonly occurs when a well-known figure succumbs to the temptation to report on some aspects of the ‘psychedelic renaissance.’ The danger to journalists is the loss of credibility. When bias, based upon a system of reward, creeps into the picture, the validity of that journalist is diminished. There is also danger that content, influenced by creators, is relied upon by the public who have no idea that there is an underlying spin, conscious or not, tainting the message.

As the psychedelic industry grows, attracting investment from pharmaceutical companies, retreat centers, and wellness brands, the potential for conflicts of interest escalates, and the temptation grows. Journalists who are also influencers may be offered sponsorships, affiliate deals, or consulting opportunities. These relationships can create subtle (or overt) pressure to present psychedelics in a positive light, downplay risks, or ignore negative findings.

The commercialization of psychedelic journalism threatens to turn what should be a careful, critical exploration into a marketing exercise. Disclosure of financial relationships is not always clear, and audiences may not be aware of the commercial incentives shaping the content they consume. This lack of transparency erodes the ethical foundations of journalism and puts the public at risk.

Journalist-influencers wield significant power in shaping public perception and, by extension, policy. Policymakers and regulators often look to media coverage as a barometer of public opinion and scientific consensus. When influential journalists function as de facto advocates, there is a risk of skewing policy debates toward deregulation or commercialization without adequate consideration of the complexities and potential harms.

For those reporting on the world of psychedelics, this can be a slippery slope in determining where to draw the line. From my side of the fence, I see no issue with receiving a media pass to attend a conference. I can’t blame retreat centers for offering free access to journalists. After all, it is up to them to spread the word about their offerings. 

It is up to those who are so invited to decide what they will do with the invitations. I personally think that if someone wants to report on a retreat center, or any other psychedelic-related enterprise, you should think long and hard before accepting substantial freebies. If you do, there is a duty to report that ‘energy exchange’ (as one influencer put it) in whatever you push to the public.

The psychedelic renaissance holds tremendous promise for science, medicine, and culture. However, the rise of journalists as influencers introduces new dangers that must not be ignored. The blending of reporting, advocacy, and entrepreneurship risks undermining public trust, spreading misinformation, and exposing vulnerable individuals to harm.

The choice is clear. Do you want to have a credible voice with something to say or do you want to be an influencer?

This essay was first published by Jim Tate on his Substack site Chronicles of Kykeon.