Religious Freedom and The Global Regulation of Ayahuasca

Religious Freedom and the Global
Regulation of Ayahuasca
This book offers a comprehensive view of the legal, political, and ethical
challenges related to the global regulation of ayahuasca, bringing together
an international and interdisciplinary group of scholars. Ayahuasca is a
psychoactive brew containing N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (DMT), which is
a Schedule I substance under the United Nations Convention on Psycho-
tropic Substances, and the legality of its ritual use has been interpreted
differently throughout the world. The chapters in this volume reflect on the
complex implications of the international expansion of ayahuasca, from
health, spirituality, and human rights impacts on individuals, to legal and
policy impacts on national governments. While freedom of religion is gen-
erally protected, this protection depends on the recognition of a religion’s
legitimacy, and whether particular practices may be deemed a threat to
public health, safety, or morality. Through a comparative analysis of dif-
ferent contexts in North America, South America, and Europe in which
ayahuasca is consumed, the book investigates the conceptual, philosoph-
ical, and legal distinctions among the fields of shamanism, religion, and
medicine. It will be particularly relevant to scholars with an interest in
indigenous religion and in religion and law.
Beatriz Caiuby Labate (Bia Labate) is a queer Brazilian anthropologist based

in San Francisco. She has a PhD in social anthropology from the University
of Campinas (UNICAMP), Brazil. Her main areas of interest are the study
of plant medicines, drug policy, shamanism, ritual, religion, and social jus-
tice. She is Executive Director of the Chacruna Institute for Psychedelic
Plant Medicines and serves as Public Education and Culture Specialist at the
Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS). She is also
Visiting Scholar at Naropa University’s Center for Psychedelic Studies and
Advisor at the Veteran Mental Health Leadership Coalition. Dr. Labate is a
co-founder of the Interdisciplinary Group for Psychoactive Studies (NEIP)
in Brazil and editor of its site. She is author, co-author, and co-editor of
twenty-six books, two special-edition journals, and several peer-reviewed
articles (https://bialabate.net).
Clancy Cavnar has a doctorate in clinical psychology (PsyD) from John F.
Kennedy University in Pleasant Hill, CA. She currently works in private
practice in San Francisco, and is Co-Founder and a member of the Board
of Directors of the Chacruna Institute for Psychedelic Plant Medicines. She
is also a research associate of the Interdisciplinary Group for Psychoactive
Studies (NEIP). She combines an eclectic array of interests and activities as
clinical psychologist, artist, and researcher. She has a master of fine arts
in painting from the San Francisco Art Institute, a master’s in counseling
from San Francisco State University, and she completed the Certificate in
Psychedelic-Assisted Therapy program at the California Institute of Inte-
gral Studies (CIIS). She is author and co-author of articles in several
peer-reviewed journals and co-editor, with Beatriz Caiuby Labate, of eleven
books. For more information see: http://www.drclancycavnar.com
Routledge Studies in Religion
Muslims of Post-Communist Eurasia

Edited by Galina M. Yemelianova and Egdūnas Račius
Christian Orthodox Migrants in Western Europe

Secularization and Modernity through the Lens of the Gift Paradigm
Maria Hämmerli
Domestic Demons and the Intimate Uncanny

Edited by Thomas G. Kirsch, Kirsten Mahlke and Rijk van Dijk
Jews and Muslims in London and Amsterdam

Conflict and Cooperation, 1990–2020
Sipco J. Vellenga and Gerard A. Wiegers
Alternative Spirituality, Counterculture, and European Rainbow

Gatherings
Pachamama, I’m Coming Home
Katri Ratia
Religious Freedom and the Global Regulation of Ayahuasca

Edited by Beatriz Labate and Clancy Cavnar
Interreligious Encounters in Europe

Sites, Materialities and Practices
Edited by Jan Winkler, Laura Haddad, Julia Martínez-Ariño and
Giulia Mezzetti
For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/

religion/series/SE0669
Religious Freedom and
the Global Regulation
of Ayahuasca
Edited by
Beatriz Caiuby Labate and
Clancy Cavnar
First published 2023
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2023 selection and editorial matter, Beatriz Caiuby Labate and
Clancy Cavnar; individual chapters, the contributors
The right of Beatriz Caiuby Labate and Clancy Cavnar to be
identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors
for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with
sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical,
or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 9780367028756 (hbk)

ISBN: 9781032439327 (pbk)
ISBN: 9780429001161 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161
Typeset in Sabon
by codeMantra
Contents
List of Contributors ix
Introduction: The Regulation of Ayahuasca and Its

Challenges: From the Global to the Local 1
B E AT R I Z C A I U BY L A B AT E , C L A N C Y C AV N A R A N D
H EN R IQU E F ER NA N DE S A N T U N E S
1 Ayahuasca Vision 2021: Legal Status of Ayahuasca in

the United States 17
S E A N T. M c A L L I S T E R
2 Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v. Mukasey:

The Regulation of a Santo Daime Church in the State
of Oregon 38
H EN R IQU E F ER NA N DE S A N T U N E S
3 Intersecting Cultures: Exploring Ayahuasca’s Legal and

Ethical Journey in Canada 51
E M M A G A R RO D A N D K AT R I N A B L O M M A E RT
4 Regulating Ayahuasca in the United Kingdom:

Proactive Approaches 69
C H A R L O T T E WA L S H
5 Santo Daime in Belgium and the Netherlands:

Prejudice, Pluralism, and the Daunting Quest for
Religious Freedom in Europe 85
BEN MEEUS
viii Contents
6 The Landscapes of Ayahuasca in Contemporary France 106
C L A R A N OVA E S A N D M A R I E RO S E M O RO , T R A N S L AT E D F RO M
F R E N C H BY J O A N N C A H N
7 Ayahuasca and Freedom of Religion in Australia:

Entheogens in a Post-Colonial Shadow 122
A M A R DH A LL , TORST EN W I EDE M A N N A N D
M A N AV S AT I J A
8 A Genealogy of the Ayahuasca Cultural Heritage

Registration Process in Brazil 142
B E AT R I Z C A I U BY L A B AT E A N D G L AU B E R
LOU R E S DE ASSIS
9 “Authorization? That’s Outrageous:” Ayahuasca

Environmental Legislation and Indigenous Populations
in Brazil 160
B E AT R I Z C A I U BY L A B AT E , H E N R I Q U E F E R N A N D E S A N T U N E S
A N D IGOR F ER NA N DE S A N T U N E S
10 Debates on the Legality and Legitimacy of Yage in

Colombia 177
A LH ENA CA ICEDO F ER NÁ N DEZ
11 Ayahuasca in Uruguay: Legal Aspects and Public

Debates on Drugs and Religion 193
J UA N S C U RO , I S M A E L A P U D A N D S E B A S T I Á N T O RT E RO L A
12 Mystics or Criminals? “Cults,” Religion, and Drugs 207

M A S S I M O I N T ROV I G N E
13 A Defense Expert Witness on Ayahuasca: An Interview

with José Carlos Bouso 222
B E AT R I Z C A I U BY L A B AT E
Afterword: A Call for Public Support against the

Current Demonization of Ayahuasca Practices in Spain 239
B E AT R I Z C A I U BY L A B AT E , H E N R I Q U E F E R N A N D E S A N T U N E S ,
G L AU B E R L O U R E S D E A S S I S A N D C L A N C Y C AV N A R
Index 249
Contributors
Dr. Henrique Fernandes Antunes is a postdoctoral researcher at the Cen-

tre d’Étude des Mouvements Sociaux (CEMS) of the École des Hautes
Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS). He has a PhD in Anthropology
from the University of São Paulo (2019), with a research internship as a
visiting scholar at the University of California Berkeley. He holds a MA
degree in Anthropology from the University of São Paulo (2012) and a
BA in Social Sciences (2006) and Anthropology (2008) from the Uni-
versidade Estadual Paulista Júlio de Mesquita Filho (UNESP-FFC). He
is a member of the research group Religion in the Contemporary World
of the Brazilian Center of Analysis and Planning (CEBRAP). He is also
a member of the Ayahuasca Community Committee of the Chacruna
Institute for Psychedelic Plant Medicines, and a researcher at the Inter-
disciplinary Group for Psychoactive Studies (NEIP). He specialized in
the fields of urban anthropology, anthropology of religion, anthropology
of secularism, and sociology of public problems.
Igor Fernandes Antunes is a master’s candidate in the Sustainability Program
at University of São Paulo. He has a degree in Environmental Management
from the University of São Paulo (2020). During his undergraduate stud-
ies, he developed research on the relationship between religion, society,
and environment, focusing on the socio-environmental impacts linked
to the expansion of the religious use of ayahuasca. His current research
focuses on the management of the plant species that make up ayahuasca
and forms of sustainability of ayahuasca groups in Brazil. He is an associ-
ated researcher of the Research Center for Religions in the Contemporary
World of the Brazilian Center for Analysis and Planning (CEBRAP) and
the Interdisciplinary Group for Psychoactive Studies—(NEIP).
Katrina Blommaert is a research consultant and midwife in training, living,
and working on the traditional, unceded territory of the xwmeθkwey’em
(Musqueam) Nation. Katrina has worked in psychedelic research for
eight years, and managed the successful completion of phase II and
phase III clinical trials for 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine
(MDMA)-assisted psychotherapy for post-traumatic stress disorder
x Contributors
(PTSD) in Canada. She has worked in her community with youth expe-
riencing mental health and substance use challenges, as well as in family
program planning, facilitation, and evaluation. She is passionate about
ethical research, community autonomy, and accessible care.
José Carlos Bouso is a psychologist and has a PhD in pharmacology. His

areas of interest are psychopharmacology and the therapeutic proper-
ties of entactogens, psychedelics, and cannabis. He developed the first
authorized clinical trial to study the therapeutic effects of MDMA
(“ecstasy”) in the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder in female
victims of sexual assault. He has done neuroimaging and neuropsychiat-
ric studies with long-term users of substances such as cannabis, cocaine,
and ayahuasca, as well as studies of the acute effects of different natural
and synthetic drugs. He participated in the regulation process of canna-
bis in Uruguay, giving educational and scientific conferences in differ-
ent contexts and institutions there. Currently, he is Director of Scientific
Projects at the ICEERS Foundation, where he conducts studies on the
therapeutic effects of ayahuasca, the medical properties of cannabis, and
the potential anti-addictive benefits of ibogaine.
Ismael Apud is adjunct professor at the Facultad de Psicología, Universi-

dad de la República (UdelaR, Uruguay). He is a researcher included in
the National System of Researchers, Agencia Nacional de Investigación
e Innovación (SNI-ANII, Uruguay) and co-director of Arche, Inter-
disciplinary Group of Psychedelic Studies (UdelaR). He has a PhD in
anthropology from Universitat Rovira I Virgili (URV, Spain), a master’s
degree in the methodology of scientific research from the Universidad
Nacional de Lanús (UNLa, Argentina), and degrees in psychology and
in social anthropology, both from UdelaR. His research areas include
mental health, religious and spiritual practices, and psychedelics. He is
author and co-author of several books, chapters of books, and scien-
tific articles about these topics. Some of the articles address the use of
ayahuasca in spiritual, religious, and clinical settings. His theoretical
approach combines medical anthropology, cognitive science of religion,
and psychology.
Clancy Cavnar has a doctorate in clinical psychology (PsyD) from John

F. Kennedy University in Pleasant Hill, CA. She currently works in
private practice in San Francisco, and is Co-Founder and a member
of the Board of Directors of the Chacruna Institute for Psychedelic
Plant Medicines. She is also a research associate of the Interdiscipli-
nary Group for Psychoactive Studies (NEIP). She combines an eclec-
tic array of interests and activities as clinical psychologist, artist, and
researcher. She has a master of fine arts in painting from the San Fran-
cisco Art Institute, a master’s in counseling from San Francisco State
University, and she completed the Certificate in Psychedelic-Assisted
Contributors xi
Therapy program at the California Institute of Integral Studies (CIIS).
She is author and co-author of articles in several peer-reviewed jour-
nals and co-editor, with Beatriz Caiuby Labate, of eleven books. For
more information see: http://www.drclancycavnar.com
Dr. Amar Dhall has degrees in Law, Construction Management and Eco-
nomics along with professional training as a psychotherapist, counselor
and coach. He has published and presented work in a number of fields
including law, shamanism, and trauma. Dr. Amar currently works with
individuals and groups to support the blossoming of human potential.
He is the Centre Director for The Trauma and Well-Being Centre and a
Director of Primal Intelligence, both of which are based in Australia and
The Lawyers’ Center Performance and Well-Being in the United States.
Glauber Loures de Assis has a PhD in sociology from the Federal Univer-
sity of Minas Gerais (UFMG), Brazil. He is Research Associate at the
Interdisciplinary Group for Psychoactive Studies (NEIP), coordinator of
the communication department of the New Age Institute, and technical
coordinator of ICEFLU, the largest institution of the Santo Daime reli-
gion in the world. He has developed research on Santo Daime groups
from Brazil and Europe and has also studied the sociology of religion
from a wider perspective. His main interests include the ayahuasca reli-
gions, New Religious Movements (NRMs), the internationalization of
the Brazilian religions, and drug use in contemporary society. He is also
Associate Director of Chacruna Latinoamérica in Brazil.
Alhena Caicedo Fernández is Associate Professor at the Department of
Anthropology at Universidad de los Andes, Bogotá, Colombia. She com-
pleted her BA in anthropology at Universidad Nacional de Colombia;
her first MA in social anthropology at the École des Hautes Études en
Sciences Sociales (EHESS) in France; her second MA in ethnographic
and documentary film at Paris X—Nanterre; and, finally, her PhD in
social anthropology at EHESS, France. She is a member of the Latin
American think tank RaizAL. Her research has focused on the expan-
sion of the yagecero field in Colombia and Latin America; the transfor-
mation of yagé neoshamanism, heritage processes, and the social uses of
traditional indigenous medicine.
Emma Garrod, RN, MSN, is an educator, researcher, and co-director
of the BC Centre on Substance Use Addiction Nursing Fellowship. In
twelve years of nursing, Emma has worked in many settings, includ-
ing emergency departments, street outreach, research and education,
specializing in HIV, harm reduction, and substance use. She is commit-
ted to enhancing patient care by creating safer spaces in healthcare for
people who use drugs, creating sensible drug policy, expanding treat-
ment and harm reduction options, and scaling up healthcare provider
expertise.
xii Contributors
Massimo Introvigne, a law and philosophy graduate, was, until 2016, a
professor of sociology of religions at Pontifical Salesian University in
Torino, Italy. He is the managing director of CESNUR, the Center for
Studies on New Religions, also in Torino. In 2011, he served as the
representative of OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation
in Europe) for combating racism, xenophobia, and intolerance and dis-
crimination against Christians and members of other religions, and from
2012 to 2015 as Chairperson of the Observatory of Religious Liberty,
created by the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He is the author of
some 70 books on religious pluralism and new religious movements.
Dr. Beatriz Caiuby Labate (Bia Labate) is a queer Brazilian anthropologist
based in San Francisco. She has a Ph.D. in social anthropology from the
University of Campinas (UNICAMP), Brazil. Her main areas of interest
are the study of plant medicines, drug policy, shamanism, ritual, religion,
and social justice. She is Executive Director of the Chacruna Institute for
Psychedelic Plant Medicines and serves as Public Education and Culture
Specialist at the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies
(MAPS). She is also Visiting Scholar at Naropa University’s Center for
Psychedelic Studies and Advisor at the Veteran Mental Health Leadership
Coalition. Dr. Labate is a co-founder of the Interdisciplinary Group for
Psychoactive Studies (NEIP) in Brazil and editor of its site. She is author,
co-author, and co-editor of twenty-six books, two special-edition jour-
nals, and several peer-reviewed articles (https://bialabate.net).
Sean T. McAllister is an attorney specializing in the intersection of regula-
tory and corporate law, and also is an experienced commercial litigator.
He has been a leader in the emerging industries of cannabis, hemp, and
psychedelic medicines. Sean is licensed to practice law in Colorado and
California. His work in psychedelics has included: Advised clients on
what is allowed in cities that have decriminalized psychedelics; Advised
clients looking to obtain a religious exemption from criminal law for the
use of psychedelics under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act; Seek-
ing Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) licensure for companies
to manufacture Schedule I drugs lawfully in the United States; Steering
committee member on Colorado’s Natural Medicine Health Act; Exec-
utive Officer of the Denver Psilocybin Mushroom Policy Review Panel,
2020; Chair of the Board of Directors for the Chacruna Institute for
Psychedelic Plant Medicines and member of Chacruna’s Council for the
Protection of Sacred Plants.
Ben Meeus holds a master’s degree in international and European law (cum
laude) from the Free University of Brussels and a second master’s degree
in Latin American studies at the Centre for Latin American Research
and Documentation (CEDLA) in Amsterdam. His main areas of work
relate to the rights of Indigenous Peoples and minorities, with a special
Contributors xiii
focus on land rights, environmental protection, culture, and spirituality.
Among others, he has written about the transnationalization of Santo
Daime and has spoken on various occasions about the ethical and legal
implications of the expansion of the traditional use of ayahuasca by reli-
gious minorities and Indigenous Peoples, including during the World
Ayahuasca Conference (AYA2019) and the Indigenous Ayahuasca Con-
ferences. Ben has worked with and for Amnesty International, the United
Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) and—at the
time of writing—works for the United Nations Environment Program
(UNEP) in support of the Interfaith Rainforest Initiative (IRI), a global
multi-faith alliance working to bring the commitment, influence, and
moral authority of religions to efforts to protect the world’s rainforests
and the Indigenous Peoples that serve as their guardians. He also serves
as an Advisor to the Yorenka Tasorentsi Institute (YTI), presided by
Asháninka leader Benki Piyãko.
Marie Rose Moro is a child and adolescent psychiatrist and professor of

child and adolescent psychiatry at University Paris Descartes. After
completing a degree in philosophy, she obtained degrees in medicine
and psychology. A doctor of medicine and in human sciences, she is also
a psychoanalyst and writer. For 25 years, first in Avicenne Hospital in
the suburbs of Paris, and then in the center of Paris, in Cochin Hospital,
she has been developing a transcultural clinic that tries to adapt men-
tal healthcare settings, techniques, and research methods to immigrant
families and their children. She is also developing a new pluridiscipli-
nary way of taking care of adolescents. Head of the Department of
Child and Adolescent Psychiatry of Cochin Hospital, Technical Advisor
for Doctors Without Borders, director of a research team in transcul-
tural psychiatry at Unité INSERM 669 and at the Laboratoire de psy-
chologie of Paris Descartes University, Editor-in-Chief of the journal
L’autre, she is one of today’s leading figures in transcultural psychiatry
in France.
Clara Novaes is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst, she holds a

doctorate in clinical psychopathology from the University of Paris Des-
cartes Sorbonne. She worked at the Clinique De La Borde founded by
Jean Oury with the presence of Felix Guattari for 15 years with people
suffering from psychosis. Now she combines her clinico-political work
with work around early childhood and her interest in the productions
of contemporary subjectivity related to ayahuasca experiences, psycho-
analysis, anthropology, politics, and literature. She wrote articles on the
urban experience of ayahuasca after successfully completing a doctoral
thesis entitled: The Urban Experience of Ayahuasca. Landscape of Con-
temporary Subjectivities [Ethnopsychoanalytical Approach], in 2011.
The thesis combined clinical work (17 semi-structured interviews were
xiv Contributors
conducted with people who use ayahuasca in an urban ritual context in
Brazil, France and the Netherlands) and research field (mapping of an
urban agency that has carried out ayahuasca in eastern Amazonia, São
Paulo, and the Netherlands). She is also a member of the International
Association for Ethnopsychoanalysis and of the Interdisciplinary Group
for Psychoactive Studies (NEIP). For more information, see: http://neip.
info/pesquisadores/clara-novaes/
Manav Satija is a lawyer and consultant with extensive experience in human
rights, indigenous rights, social justice and environmental law. Manny
worked in Geneva, Switzerland as a human rights advisor before return-
ing to Australia to focus on justice for First Nations communities, includ-
ing in bush courts in remote communities across the Northern Territory.
Manny was part of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses
to Child Sexual Abuse and was involved in conducting over 400 his-
toric private sessions with survivors across Australia. Manny is currently
consulting to a range of environmental, human rights, and indigenous
justice organizations and has been intimately involved in developing and
implementing reparations and healing initiatives for Stolen Generations
Survivors across New South Wales. Manny was an expert legal panel
member of the 2019 Citizen’s Inquiry into the Health of the Darling
River and Menindee Lakes, a special hearing of the Australian Peoples’
Tribunal for Community and Nature’s Rights. Manny has published and
presented papers relating to earth rights, earth ethics, drug policy, and
human rights and facilitates novel experiential workshops at conferences
and in the corporate environments. Manny’s passion for non-adversarial
justice, healing, and reparations has led him to training as a coach and
gestalt psychotherapist. Alongside his legal and consulting work Manny
now runs a private coaching and therapy practice and is passionate
about infusing emotionally intelligent and therapeutic approaches into
the practice of law.
Juan Scuro is adjunct professor at Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias
de la Educación, Universidad de la República (UdelaR, Uruguay). He
is a researcher included in the National System of Researchers, Agen-
cia Nacional de Investigación e Innovación (SNI-ANII, Uruguay), and
co-director of Arche, Interdisciplinary Group of Psychedelic Studies
(UdelaR). He has a PhD and a master’s degree in social anthropology
from the Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS, Brazil),
and degree in anthropology from the UdelaR. His research areas are
religion, spirituality, and drugs. He is author and co-author of several
chapters of books, and articles about ayahuasca, cannabis, secularism,
neoshamanism, and Afro-Brazilian religions.
Sebastián Torterola is a translator, journalist, and researcher. He has a
master’s degree in Compared Literature and Theory of Literature from
Contributors xv
the Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (UERJ, Brazil), and a
degree in Communication Sciences from Universidad de la República
(UdelaR). His research areas combine literature, drugs, and spirituality.
He is author and co-author of articles about hashish, ayahuasca, enthe-
ogens, and neoshamanism in Latin America.
Charlotte Walsh (LLB; MPhil) is a Lecturer in Law at Leicester Law
School, where she runs an undergraduate course on Criminology, largely
concerned with drug policy. Her main research focus is on the inter-
face between psychedelics and the law, viewed from a liberal, human
rights-based perspective; she has published widely on this subject, in
both journals and edited collections, along with being a regular speaker
at psychedelic conferences. Over the years, Charlotte has been involved
in advising people who are being prosecuted for activities involving plant
psychedelics.
Torsten Wiedemann is a consultant on legal issues relating to plant drugs
and new psychoactive substances in Australia. His background in eth-
nopharmacology and decades of work in drug law reform provide a
comprehensive insight into the Australian legal landscape on plant med-
icines. Torsten organized ethnobotany conferences in Australia, owns
Shaman Australis Botanicals, and runs The Corroboree (SAB) internet
forums as well as many other plant community and research projects.
Introduction
The Regulation of Ayahuasca and
Its Challenges: From the Global to
the Local
Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Clancy Cavnar and
Henrique Fernandes Antunes
This volume is an initiative of the Chacruna Institute of Psychedelic Plant

Medicines; in particular, the Ayahuasca Community Committee and the
Council for the Protection of Sacred Plants, two groups that work on doc-
umentation, education, and advocacy for the legality of sacred plants, as
well as consultation in legal cases. One of the main goals of the Institute is
to promote the cultural legitimacy of plant medicines; hence, the aim of the
chapters gathered here is to shed light on the consequences and controver-
sies around the regulation processes of ayahuasca in a global context. We
would like to add that the book took several years to reach publication and
faced many challenges. Many of the original chapters were commissioned
from non-academic authors due to the lack of a specialized literature, and,
due to changing laws and policies, some of these were hard to complete.
In addition, many lawyers, religious scholars, sociologists, and others are
unfamiliar with the specific topics addressed here, as they are novel and
broadly interdisciplinary. These obstacles testify to the difficulties of edit-
ing a volume such as this one, and to the fact that this is such a nascent field.
The interest of the academic field in the ritual use of ayahuasca is not new;
quite the opposite. The year 2022 marks the 50th anniversary of Marlene
Dobkin de Rios’ (1972) pioneering work, Visionary Vine: Hallucinogenic
Healing in the Peruvian Amazon, devoted to the study of the practices of
vegetalistas in Iquitos, Peru. Besides the seminal work of Dobkin de Rios,
one of the first anthropological studies on ayahuasca, we cannot fail to
mention works such as Luna’s (1986), also on Peruvian vegetalistas, or the
first publications on ayahuasca religions in Brazil, such as the important
books by Fróes (1983) and MacRae (1992) on Santo Daime, which attest
to the beginning of a growing interest in the historical, sociological, and
anthropological aspects of ayahuasca consumption.
In addition to these innovative works, and many other articles, disser-
tations, and theses that marked the emergence of a socio-anthropological
academic debate on ayahuasca in Brazil (Monteiro, 1983; La Rocque
Couto, 1989; Groisman, 1991; Dias, 1992; Guimarães, 1992; Pelaez, 1994;
Andrade, 1995; Goulart, 1996; Cemin, 1998; Sena Araújo, 1999; Brissac,
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-1 1
2 Beatriz Caiuby Labate et al.
1999), and internationally (Harner, 1973; Kesinger, 1973; Henman, 1986;
Langdon, 1986; McKenna et al., 1986; Naranjo, 1986), the consolidation
of ayahuasca studies as an important academic field took place only in the
2000s. In this regard, the I Congresso sobre o Uso Ritual da Ayahuasca
(I Conference on the Ritual Use of Ayahuasca [I CURA]), in 1997, among
the first interdisciplinary academic conferences dedicated to the ritual use of
ayahuasca at a distinguished university, and the publication of O uso ritual
da ayahuasca (The Ritual Use of Ayahuasca) (Labate & Sena Araújo, 2002),
a large volume dedicated entirely to ayahuasca, were, without a doubt, land-
marks of the rising interest in the public debate on ayahuasca in Brazil.
Since then, rivers of ink have been written about ayahuasca and its uses,
and there has been an undeniable boom of academic works on the subject;
particularly in the last two decades, with the publication of a growing num-
ber of collections, books, theses, dissertations, and academic articles on the
subject. In the wake of this broad and important academic movement that
has now reached a half century of existence, it is necessary to ask ourselves:
What is the need for, and, beyond that, the relevance of, another collection
that focuses on ayahuasca? The answer to this question is two-fold.
First, this volume is important because the practices and groups that
consume ayahuasca are not inert. On the contrary, the use of ayahuasca
has seen increased expansion and re-signification in recent decades, since
it left the Amazon rainforest and reached a global scale, arriving in sev-
eral countries in Latin America, Europe, and North America, as well as in
countries like South Africa, Australia, and Japan (Sáez, 2018; for the glo-
balization of ayahuasca, see: Labate & Jungaberle, 2011; Labate & Cavnar,
2014; Labate et al., 2017; Labate & Cavnar, 2018). This unprecedented
expansion has imposed the need for studies that address issues that emerge
when the use of ayahuasca departs from its geographical and cultural con-
texts of origin and inserts itself into new social, historical, and cultural
settings. This new scenario is inevitably accompanied by concerns regard-
ing new identity processes, new forms of legitimacy, and the proliferation
of social stigmas, as well as new configurations of the use of ayahuasca
(Labate 2004). These issues often revolve around controversial themes,
such as the reinterpretation of traditional beliefs and practices in ways that
not only lead to reinventions through a process of hybridization, but that
also create new traditions, rituals, beliefs, and values previously absent
from the Amazonian imaginary (Labate et al., 2017).
Second, it is necessary to emphasize that the present collection is dedi-
cated to a topic greatly unexplored in the academic debate on ayahuasca,
the legal one. Thus, a substantial analysis of ayahuasca regulation pro-
cesses is not only relevant, but necessary. This is due to the fact that the
global expansion of ayahuasca and its reinventions have been accompanied
by a series of public controversies, as ayahuasca religious or therapeutic
groups have often encountered legal restrictions, confiscation of ayahuasca
shipments, and threats of imprisonment, among other problems that call
Introduction 3
into question the practices and even the existence of groups that consume
ayahuasca in a ritual context. As Labate and Feeney (2014) point out, the
reaction to the growth of this phenomenon has often been one of unease
among countries where religious use of ayahuasca is present. Responses to
these groups, often based on accusations of “illicit drug use and drug traf-
ficking,” raise complex questions about law, culture, and religion in a world
setting increasingly marked by transnational cultural flows.
These accusations are frequently based on the fact that one of the
plants used in the making of ayahuasca, Psychotria viridis, contains DMT
(N,N-dimethyltryptamine), a Schedule I controlled substance according to
the United Nations Convention on Psychotropic Substances (CPS) of 1971.
As McAllister states in this volume, although ayahuasca, per se, is not reg-
ulated by international conventions, one of its components is considered a
controlled substance under international treaties. Notwithstanding the fact
that the laws governing the use of psychoactive substances vary from one
country to another, it is important to stress that the majority of national
States adhere to the CPS, which includes DMT on their list of controlled
substances. This creates a conundrum concerning the regulation of aya-
huasca, since, in the majority of cases, the plants are not subject to any type
of regulation, but one of them contains a substance controlled worldwide,
inserting ayahuasca and its drinkers in a legal gray area.
In light of this, this edited volume is an important milestone in the aya-
huasca debate, since it is the first book focused exclusively on ayahuasca
regulation processes on a global scale. This initiative is especially crucial
in the current political context, where the rise of authoritarian regimes and
extreme right-wing political movements in various parts of the world have
been undermining and jeopardizing the rights of numerous religious, eth-
nic, and gender minority groups. Therefore, the works gathered here seek
to face this new setting of political uneasiness, documenting an unprece-
dented collective effort by researchers from various parts of the world and
from diverse fields of knowledge to understand the legal implications of the
global expansion of ayahuasca, as well as the dilemmas, controversies, and
political, social, and cultural consequences for ayahuasca groups.
This volume presents a rich array of reflections on the complex implica-
tions of this expansion, ranging from health, spiritual, and human rights
impacts on individuals, to legal and policy impacts on governments. The
chapters reveal that the legality of the ritual use of ayahuasca has been inter-
preted differently throughout the world. Our focus, therefore, is not solely
on the countries in which the ritual use of ayahuasca is a long-standing
practice and an integral part of traditional cultural systems, but also on
countries where ayahuasca has only recently appeared and has become the
object of governmental scrutiny and public policies. Through a compar-
ative analysis of the different contexts in which ayahuasca is consumed,
this work investigates the conceptual, philosophical, and legal distinctions
among the fields of shamanism, religion, and medicine.
The diversity of cultural and regional influences is reflected in, for
example, different traditions of governmental regulation of ayahuasca
consumption: While Brazil permits religious, but not therapeutic, use of
ayahuasca, Peru has enshrined indigenous medical traditions surrounding
ayahuasca as part of its national heritage. In Colombia, there is no direct
legislation regarding ayahuasca and the legitimacy of its use is related to
the constitutional rights of the Indigenous Peoples to live according to their
cultural background. On the other hand, there are countries that do not
recognize the religious nature of the Brazilian ayahuasca religions, such
as Portugal, while others, like France and Belgium, consider ayahuasca
traditions potentially dangerous cults. Although Spain has liberal drug
legislation, and ayahuasca is considered “personal drug use,” arrests have
recently increased substantially. Also, in an interesting turn of events, the
Netherlands suddenly revoked the previously established religious freedom
of ayahuasca churches after 17 years of lawful presence and practice, pre-
senting a crucial setback for the regulation of ayahuasca in the country and,
in a broader perspective, in Europe. In the United States and Canada, the
religious use of ayahuasca by Brazilian ayahuasca religions is allowed in
some cases, but the traditional and shamanic uses of the brew are not per-
mitted. In Uruguay, despite the governmental recognition of a Santo Daime
church, ayahuasca is not regulated, and its import is frequently a source of
problems, as an increasing number of shipments are seized at the Brazilian
boarder by federal authorities.
One can see, thus, that this book provides the most up-to-date collection
of informed academic writing currently available on this topic, touching
upon classic and contemporary anthropological concepts such as ethnicity,
identity, and tradition, while also presenting new theoretical and empiri-
cal problems, as the worldwide expansion of traditional practices raise a
number of legal issues. This volume also sheds light on other controversies
related to the globalization of ayahuasca, such as the commodification of
the beverage; unauthorized uses, such as the recreational use of the drink
and ayahuasca tourism; and even biopiracy and the acquisition by third
parties of intellectual property rights on traditional knowledge.
This volume also has the merit of demonstrating that, amid different reg-
ulatory contexts, certain issues and controversies are recurrent in the debate
over the regulation of ayahuasca. The chapters support Saba Mahmood’s
trailblazing hypothesis that, aside from the ways in which the regulation
of religious practice takes shape across different geographical landscapes,
there is a globally shared form of secular national-political structuration
adopted by all modern states that has two fundamental paradoxical fea-
tures: first, the state’s claim to religious neutrality and the defense of the
principle of religious freedom, despite its involvement in the regulation and
management of religious life to an unprecedented degree, and, second, its
embroilment in issues regarding religious practices and doctrines. They
are thus committed to leveling religious differences in the political sphere,
Introduction 5
notwithstanding the fact that modern secular governance transforms and,
in some cases, intensifies pre-existing inequalities (Mahmood, 2015).
Following this insight, several chapters attest that, although the principle
of religious freedom is widely accepted as a fundamental human right in the
legal framework of the countries analyzed here, its claim depends on the
recognition of a religion’s legitimacy and whether particular practices can
be considered a threat to public health, security, morality, or public order.
Hence, while religious freedom, in the sense of the right to hold one’s belief,
is granted, the freedom to manifest one’s religion or beliefs is frequently
subject to a number of restrictions prescribed by law. That being said, one
can note that, despite the different outcomes, the legal frameworks of these
countries share a hegemonic secular device forged to regulate the cultural
and social practices of their respective populations. These devices are fre-
quently used by public authorities and State agencies in order to challenge
the possibility of regulating the use of ayahuasca, demonstrating that the
legal principles promoted by national states and international agencies—
such as religious freedom, human rights, and the rights of minorities and
Indigenous Peoples—do not have an absolute status. On the contrary, they
are repeatedly put in check by legal decisions.
Before addressing specific forms of regulation, however, we must assess the
impacts of the lack of regulation when it comes to the ritual use of ayahuasca.
Garrod and Blommaerte, for example, argue that ayahuasca tourism in
Canada is partly due to ayahuasca’s legal status in the country, or lack thereof.
According to the authors, many Canadians who want to attend ayahuasca
ceremonies choose to visit retreat centers in South America. Some of these
centers are owned by Canadians who advertise them online. The occasional
negative incidents and health-associated problems that derive from these
activities can be considered, in part, as an indirect consequence of the crimi-
nalization of ayahuasca in Canada, forcing Canadians to seek healing expe-
riences abroad that are unavailable in their own country. Nevertheless, this
pattern of ayahuasca consumption is often seen as belonging to a colonial
practice in which individuals who act out of their own self-interest consume
ayahuasca as a new form of “spiritual tourism.” This controversial new trend
has often been implemented with little consideration of its impact on local
communities, their culture, and their environment. Moreover, the illegality
of ayahuasca creates a number of unexpected problems, making it difficult to
obtain information on the source of ayahuasca, the importation process, the
impacts on the community where the ayahuasca comes from, etc.
Besides focusing on controversies associated with a lack of regulation,
another merit of this book concerns the inquiry on the different paths uti-
lized to acquire legitimacy in a legal sphere. As the authors indicate, this
can come to fruition through legal disputes, drug policies, or even through
policies affirming cultural heritage. As Labate and Assis show, several South
American countries, including Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, and Brazil, have
invested in affirmative policies of cultural recognition but with different
approaches. In an innovative decision without precedent anywhere else in
the world, Peru developed an affirmative policy that recognizes ayahuasca
as national cultural heritage, while Colombia opted to develop a public
policy of indirect recognition in relation to yagé. Brazil, in turn, presents
a somewhat unique scenario. The particularity of the Brazilian case is
due to the fact that Brazil is the birthplace of the Brazilian ayahuasca reli-
gions, and due to the way in which the National Council on Drug Policy
(CONAD) regulated ayahuasca, recognizing solely the legitimacy of the
religious use of ayahuasca, in an innovative collective effort that involved
a collaboration between anthropologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, and
jurists, along with representatives of the ayahuasca religions.
This book makes another important contribution to the debate on
affirmative policies regarding the use of ayahuasca, demonstrating that,
beyond the differences at the state level, these are not unanimous nor con-
sensual processes. In fact, the patrimonialization of ayahuasca is frequently
accompanied by tensions and conflicts. The disputes that erupt throughout
these processes not only illuminate important cultural differences between
the ayahuasca groups but, at the same time, spark the establishment of
new alliances, the questioning of well-established categories, and the repo-
sitioning of actors in the public debate. In Brazil, the shift of ayahuasca
regulation from the legal to the cultural sphere, therefore, transforms the
notion of cultural heritage into a political “language” in which the disputes
within the ayahuasca field take place. This increasingly diverse scenario—
especially with the progressive insertion of indigenous groups with their
own political agenda on cultural heritage policies—brings to light ques-
tions on authenticity, tradition, and cultural legitimacy. This volume also
demonstrates that, besides granting social legitimacy to traditional popula-
tions, the recognition of ayahuasca use as cultural heritage does not entail
numerous rights concerning these populations, such as the protection of
their territories or the right to circulate freely with ayahuasca. In addition,
these regulations frequently are not able to counteract the problems asso-
ciated with the insertion of traditional cultural practices into the global
economy, such as the commodification of ayahuasca.
Despite political tensions and controversies, it is increasingly clear that
cultural policies are presenting themselves as a new path to gain public
legitimacy, moving beyond the realm of drug policies and shifting the pub-
lic debate toward affirmative actions. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that,
besides granting legitimacy and legal protection, all forms of regulation,
whether through drug policies, judicial decisions, or cultural policies, imply
forms of standardization that regulate specific institutional frameworks,
and that are accompanied by restrictions that end up circumscribing the
use of ayahuasca to particular models. This becomes clear in the case of
environmental legislation analyzed by Labate, Antunes, and Antunes. The
fact that ayahuasca comes from the Amazon region and the plants used
to make it only grow in tropical climates, limits its production to certain
Introduction 7
ecosystems. Consequently, the growing pressure on the plant species that
comprise ayahuasca, particularly as a result of the expansion of ayahuasca
use throughout Brazil and internationally, and also from the increasing
deforestation of the Amazon over the last decades, has caused Brazilian
environmental agencies to focus on developing environmental legislation
for the harvest and transport of the plant species.
Beyond the legitimate initiative to grant rights, not only to traditional
populations and religious groups that consume ayahuasca, but also to the
plant species themselves, the development of environmental legislation
aimed at the religious use of ayahuasca has created new forms of control
and restriction on the practices of ayahuasca groups in Brazil. Moreover,
the legislation in question has created a special burden for the Indigenous
Peoples who have become a part of the growing urban circuits of ayahuasca
consumption in Brazil, as they find it difficult to fit into the regulatory
parameters focused on the religious use of ayahuasca (Labate et al., 2022)
Conversely, as the authors demonstrate, the growing visibility of indig-
enous actors in the public debate on ayahuasca has given rise to new
demands, such as the right to transport ayahuasca and the freedom to
produce and administer the beverage beyond their territories. This recent
indigenous protagonism has its most forceful result in the contestation of
the protocols and bureaucracies stipulated by the regulation of the religious
use of ayahuasca in Brazil, and the questioning of some of the endeavors of
the Brazilian State concerning public policies that contemplate the demands
of Indigenous Peoples.
This kind of political articulation among Indigenous Peoples is also pres-
ent in Colombia, as the chapter of Caicedo Fernández demonstrates. The
expansion of yagé circuits in the urban centers of Colombia and the social,
economic, and political effects of this new economy regarding traditional
communities has led to the development, in the 2000s, of the Union of Indig-
enous Yagé Medics of the Colombian Amazon (UMIYAC) Medical Code
of Ethics, which established a number of guidelines to prevent the com-
modification of traditional forms of yagé use. In a unique way, Colombia
has witnessed the escalating role of indigenous organizations, not only as
key actors in the legitimation of new uses of the beverage, but also as a new
political force in defending the rights of indigenous traditions.
The chapters gathered here also indicate the importance of employing
distinctive strategies suitable to the different arenas in which the regulation
of ayahuasca takes place. Whether it is in courts, drug agencies, or in the
cultural heritage domain, the legal and rhetorical strategies vary according
to the actors involved, the audience, and the expected results. For instance,
Introvigne’s chapter highlights the problematic association of ayahuasca
with terms such as “cult” and “sect.” Commonly associated with “brain-
washing,” these categories have usually a derogative connotation and are
frequently used by governments and public agencies as accusatory catego-
ries and as tools to discriminate against ayahuasca groups.
The choice of terms is not limited to the classification of ayahuasca
groups, but involves the beverage as well, since the categories employed by
ayahuasca drinkers, scholars, and State agencies also vary to a great extent.
In that regard, the range of terms goes from categories with religious con-
notations, such as “sacrament” and “divine being,” to terms derived from
folk practices, such as “traditional Indigenous medicine”; anthropological
concepts, like “shamanism,” and “entheogens”; medical notions, including
“alternative medicine therapy”; or even categories directly associated with
the debate on psychoactive substances, like “drug,” “hallucinogen,” and
“psychedelic.” The book also demonstrates that the inclusion of plants such
as the ones used to produce ayahuasca in the scheduling systems depends
on a classificatory effort to include these species in the “narcotic” category,
equating them discursively to psychoactive substances like cocaine or her-
oin. As Rebollo (2019) reminds us, even though these plants are not usually
categorized as “illegal” per se, their production, cultivation, and trade are
subject to the same legal and linguistic productions devoted to the classifi-
cation of other controlled substances.
This categorization process walks hand-in-hand with the development
of control mechanisms and legal devices. In fact, the repressive measures
aimed at ayahuasca groups depend on the previous classification of aya-
huasca as a drug that contains a controlled substance. As Fassin (2012)
points out, a semantic configuration does not appear out of nowhere. Its ori-
gins are always related to specific social worlds, such as academic, legal, or
cultural that, at a given moment, become recognized as authorized sources
of social facts. Hence, the development of public policies and laws necessar-
ily involves the stabilization of an institutional analytical framework and
the establishment of procedures and protocols recognized by conventions.
Such a process implies, in turn, the articulation of a particular set of actors,
giving rise to the construction of a new lexicon and, consequently, a new
horizon of public actions.
When it comes to psychoactive substances, therefore, the use of certain
terms and categories is not random. They reveal both the different concep-
tualizations and the disputes and intricate power relations revolving around
their regulation. As Bouso’s interview shows, legal, popular, and toxicolog-
ical languages are not always interchangeable, and a degree of translation
is always necessary when it comes to trials. According to Bouso, the perfor-
mance of an expert during a trial on ayahuasca involves not only scientific
knowledge, but also legal strategies. The choice of categories, the type of
analogy employed, the choice to avoid the excessive use of technical terms,
the ways of producing certain comparisons and metaphors while avoiding
others, are crucial to the outcome of a trial. Through these strategies that go
beyond strictly scientific knowledge, expert witnesses seek to disassociate,
for instance, the altered states of consciousness provoked by ayahuasca from
pathological states, as well as to avoid the association of the beverage with
the stigma related to the abusive use of psychoactive substances.
Introduction 9
Notwithstanding the importance of the legal defense of ayahuasca
use worldwide by different players—including academics, lawyers, and
non-profits—the legitimacy of this approach and proposals are far from
being a consensus among ayahuasca groups. These disputes not only reveal
the existing tensions surrounding the debate on ayahuasca use, but they
highlight, as well, the important issue of who has legitimacy and author-
ity to speak on behalf of ayahuasca and the populations that consume it.
A good example is the organization of the II World Ayahuasca Confer-
ence by the non-profit International Center for Ethnobotanical Education,
Research & Service (ICEERS). This conference led to a number of contro-
versies, especially regarding the predominant focus on academic knowl-
edge, to the detriment of the experience of traditional ayahuasca groups and
Indigenous populations. As the chapter by Labate and Assis stresses, during
the event, held in Rio Branco, Acre, Brazil, in 2016, ICEERS arranged a
parallel private meeting to discuss proposals for the recognition of aya-
huasca as a cultural heritage of humanity. However, this universalist stance
was questioned by a number of participants, exposing some of the contro-
versies that had already become evident in the Brazilian public debate, such
as the exclusion of Indigenous Peoples from the request for recognition of
ayahuasca as intangible cultural heritage.
In conclusion, we would like to briefly sum up some of the major dilem-
mas arising from the global expansion of ayahuasca: Is regulation a desir-
able path for ayahuasca? Is it necessarily something beneficial for religious
groups and traditional populations? Do national States have the legitimacy
and also the appropriate means to regulate practices that have ancestral
origins? What should the limits be to government actions when it comes
to fundamental rights, such as religious freedom and the rights of Indige-
nous Peoples? What are the burdens for ayahuasca religions and Indigenous
Peoples that arise from regulatory processes?
One approach that warrants consideration is the development of models
based on the principle of self-regulation, an option considered by Walsh,
one of the contributors to this collection. The author recognizes, however,
that these proposals might seem overly optimistic since, as the chapters
in this volume demonstrate, there is no clear stance nor agreement on the
best ways to recognize and legitimize the use of ayahuasca, nor to guar-
antee the rights of groups and populations who consume it. In any case,
the current advancement of drug reform in the United States, especially
the decriminalization of psychedelics in several states, shows unexpected
and promising developments in relation to the current medical or religious
freedom models.
In our view, there are no easy answers to the dilemmas that emerge from
the global regulation of ayahuasca, or the lack thereof. This volume does
not intend to present a solution to such problems and disputes, but to bring
to light power relations, conflicts, controversies, and problems that arise as
the expansion of ayahuasca reaches a global level. In a broader perspective,
this collection also serves as a call, not only to the scientific community,
but to ayahuasca groups themselves, and also State agencies, to accept the
challenges and face the dilemmas presented here, reformulating the debate
on the use of ayahuasca through new lenses and opening new possibilities
for these cultural practices and traditions to continue to exist, to change,
and to promote harm reduction toward the problems resulting from the
globalization of ayahuasca.
A Global Issue: An Overview of the Regulation of

Ayahuasca Worldwide
As stated above, this collection presents an unprecedented academic ini-
tiative to shed light on the global regulation of ayahuasca, addressing
multiple contexts. McAllister’s chapter discusses the legal protections and
uncertainties around the status of ayahuasca in the United States, espe-
cially regarding the establishment of the Religious Freedom Restoration
Act (RFRA). The chapter explorers the cases of the two churches that have
been granted exceptions to use ayahuasca under US law: Santo Daime and
the União do Vegetal (UDV), and also looks at the Supreme Court’s Hobby
Lobby decision and its impact on the recognition of ayahuasca churches
under federal law. McAllister also presents a detailed analysis of the Drug
Enforcement Administration (DEA) administrative process for obtaining
an exemption from the Controlled Substances Act (CSA) for the religious
use of ayahuasca, and a review of current lawsuits against the DEA regard-
ing the religious use of ayahuasca.
Still focusing on the US context, Antunes’ chapter analyzes the legal dis-
pute between the US government and a Santo Daime church—the Church
of the Holy Light of the Queen (CHLQ), located in Ashland, Oregon—that
culminated in the regulation process of ayahuasca in that state. The chap-
ter describes the insertion of the Santo Daime into the United States, the
beginning of tensions with the governmental institutions, and the develop-
ment of the dispute between CHLQ and the federal government. Following
McAllister’s contributions, the case study in question is valuable in rein-
forcing the analysis of the US government’s modus operandi in dealing with
ayahuasca groups, as well as the orientation of its courts as they face the chal-
lenge of mediating disputes between such institutions and the government.
Garrod and Blommaert’s chapter focuses on ayahuasca’s legal and ethi-
cal journey in Canada. The authors address the problems associated with
ayahuasca’s legal status, since the possession, sale, and use of ayahuasca in
Canada are criminalized, except for exemptions from the Office of Con-
trolled Substances (OCS). The chapter discuss the specific regulations
proposed by the Canadian government for a Santo Daime church, Céu
do Montréal. It also addresses the implications of criminalization and the
lack of regulation of ayahuasca in Canada, as well as the resultant rise
in the number of Canadians who travel to South and Central America to
Introduction 11
experience the use of ayahuasca. The authors analyze the implications and
possible social, cultural, and economic impacts of this new form of tour-
ism, not only on Canada, but also on foreign communities that provide
ayahuasca ceremonies and who export the beverage.
Focusing on the various proactive approaches that may be taken in the
quest to regulate plant medicines, Walsh’s chapter presents a legal analysis
of the recent refusal by the secretary of state in the United Kingdom to grant
an ayahuasca-using church, the União do Vegetal (UDV), license to import,
possess, and supply ayahuasca. This case study is followed by a broader
discussion of the ways in which plant medicines might be regulated were
prohibition to end, from a consideration of strict legal regulation through
to the recommended model of decriminalization, with this latter approach
ideally supplemented by practitioner-generated best practices guidelines,
voluntarily ascribed to, drawing lessons from indigenous cultural practices.
Novaes and Moro’s chapter provides an overview of the contemporary
landscape of ayahuasca use in France. The chapter situates the discourse
and representations around the transcultural/urban uses of ayahuasca in
relation to the complex political, social, and cultural contexts of the coun-
try. The authors present an analysis of the treatment of ayahuasca by the
French state, focusing on the public anti-cult organ called “Miviludes,”
whose main purpose is to fight against the dangers and expansions of
movements perceived as “sects.” The chapter addresses the consequences of
Miviludes’ surveillance circle regarding ayahuasca and social movements
linked to neoshamanism, and the implications of the governmental decree
that included all components of the Amazonian brew on the list of banned
drugs in the country. Interestingly, during the writing stage of this chapter,
Italy also included ayahuasca, and the plants used to make it, on its list of
controlled substances.
Dhall, Wiedemann, and Satija’s chapter examines the legal framework
that regulates ayahuasca in Australia in its federal, state, and territory
dimensions. The chapter contemplates the complex relationships that exist
between various agencies and legislation across these jurisdictions, present-
ing the current state of ayahuasca regulation in that country. The authors
also provide a brief review of unsanctioned ayahuasca use, outlining the
implications of imported, alternative, and local ingredients, as well as
exploring the dynamics of their poorly understood and widely ignored legal
status. In a broader perspective, the chapter demonstrates the complexities
of the regulatory framework in Australia that applies to ayahuasca and the
difficulties associated with the employment of freedom of religion-based
arguments in the legal sphere there.
Caicedo Fernández explores the case of Colombia and seeks to account
for the diversity of existing uses of yagé in the country; from the tradi-
tional uses of the Indigenous and mestizo Peoples, to the new and diverse
urban uses and the existing forms of social representation that legitimize
them. The chapter seeks to understand the normative and legal frameworks
that regulate these uses in relation to the multiculturalism adopted by the
Colombian state in the 1990s, and the policies of patrimonialization and
medicalization of yagé that have been proposed in the country. The author
demonstrates how the institutionalization of yagé is tied with social rep-
resentations of indigenous diversity and to a legislative framework that
legitimizes and legalizes cultural differences. The author also explores the
ways in which the legal framing focused on the therapeutic uses and the
association with traditional indigenous medicine, which led to the array
of alternative health therapies that comprise the spiritual practices of the
urban audience. Caicedo Fernández also explores the controversies regard-
ing the commercialization of yagé and the financial gains of certain sectors
that promote themselves as yagecero healers through the use of the imagi-
naries of the Amazon Indigenous Peoples.
The chapter by Apud, Scuro, and Torteola analyzes a series of ayahuasca-
related controversies in Uruguay. They describe the arrival of ayahuasca
groups in Uruguay in the historical period of the 1980s, which marked
the end of the dictatorship regime in the country and the beginning of
globalization, when different religious and spiritual movements appeared.
The chapter explores controversial issues that have arisen in the country
recently, such as the growing cases of Santo Daime confiscation at the
Brazilian border. The authors also present a critical analysis of characteri-
zations disseminated by local TV shows and newspapers against ayahuasca
groups, characterized as “dangerous religious cults” that use “drugs” to
recruit followers. Besides the important contributions regarding the media’s
portrayal of ayahuasca in Uruguay, the chapter also explores the relations
between the State and the ayahuasca groups vis-à-vis drug policies and the
legislation concerning religious rights in the country.
Entering the arena of the categorization and the classification of religious
practices, Introvigne’s chapter presents an analysis on the uses and impli-
cations of the notions of “cult” and “sect” regarding the use of ayahuasca.
The author stresses the high frequency at which movements whose rituals
include the consumption of ayahuasca and other so-called “entheogenic”
substances are accused of being “cults,” as seen in the previous chapter
about Uruguay. Interestingly, Introvigne’s stance is that, not only are aya-
huasca groups not cults, but that the category, per se, is problematic, since
it is used as a label to discriminate against religious and spiritual move-
ments that present unusual practices in regard to public opinion and State
agencies. Introvigne’s chapter also serves as a manifesto for religious toler-
ance, advocating for the rejection of notions that stigmatize legitimate reli-
gious movements, and developing new categories to address the intersection
between religious organizations and criminal activities.
The chapter by Labate and Assis focuses on affirmative actions regarding
the use of ayahuasca in Brazil. Specifically, the authors analyze the process
of registering ayahuasca as cultural heritage in Brazil, identifying its key
actors, alliances, and disputes. Labate and Assis propose the development
of a “genealogy” concerning the historical processes and social relations
Introduction 13
influencing the movement to register ayahuasca as cultural heritage in that
country. The author’s analysis demonstrates that the cultural registration
of ayahuasca is not a teleological project following a linear path, but it
unfolds as a correlation of forces and a historical construction around the
discursive notions of legitimacy, authenticity, and identity. Interestingly, the
authors demonstrate that the shift in public policies on ayahuasca, from
the legal sphere of psychoactive substances to the cultural sphere, has made
it possible for the rise of cultural heritage as a new political “idiom” in
which the disputes within the ayahuasca field are developed.
Still focusing on the Brazilian context, the chapter by Labate, Antunes,
and Antunes explores the environmental legislation on the use of ayahuasca
in Brazil and its recent implications for Indigenous Peoples. The piece ana-
lyzes the state legislation of Acre and Rondônia that sought to regulate the
extraction and transportation of plant species, as well as the production
and circulation of ayahuasca in the national territory. The authors highlight
the pioneering and innovative character of the legislation, which involved
the establishment of a number of procedures to preserve the plant spe-
cies in their natural habitat, as well as providing guidelines for ayahuasca
groups regarding the production of the brew. However, the authors note
that, beyond the legitimate initiative to preserve the plant species that make
up ayahuasca, and the worry concerning the progressive extraction and
commercialization by different groups in the Northern Amazonian states,
this new environmental legislation ended up creating new forms of control
and restriction on the practices of ayahuasca groups in Brazil, with special
burdens on small urban churches and indigenous groups.
Meeus’ chapter explores the Belgium and the Netherlands cases, high-
lighting that the religious use of ayahuasca within the context of Santo
Daime has been criminalized for public health reasons, based on a par-
ticular interpretation the European Convention of Human Rights. Ini-
tially, the author shows that the lack of legal recognition in Belgium has
led some churches to seek exile in the Netherlands. However, the recent
events in the Netherlands, where the previously established religious free-
dom of ayahuasca churches has been revoked after 17 years of lawful
presence and practice, have compromised the legal status of ayahuasca
churches and created possible legal problems for them. The author asso-
ciates the position of European countries regarding ayahuasca to the long
history in Western civilization of promoting values or ideas that lead to
the persecution of alternative practices of minority groups. According to
Meeus, both the Dutch and Belgian judiciary have manifestly failed to con-
sider the less restrictive measures available to mitigate perceived concerns
related to the safeguarding of public health when it comes to the use of
ayahuasca. As a result of this public stance, the stigma related to its catego-
rization, as seen elsewhere, as a “sect” or its practitioners as “drug users,”
has a detrimental and unjustifiable impact on existence of Santo Daime
groups, as the persisting context of prohibition and criminalization pushes
religious minority groups into clandestinity.
There is also an interview with José Carlos Bouso, a clinical psycholo-
gist based in Spain, and Scientific Director of ICEERS. Bouso shares his
first-hand knowledge and experiences as an expert witness for the defense
in several trials of people arrested for possessing and receiving ayahuasca,
especially in Spain. The interview provides an important account of the type
of role experts play in courts and the circumstances that usually arise in cases
involving ayahuasca groups and drinkers, highlighting the importance of the
adoption of certain discursive strategies and the employment of particular
categories. In this sense, Bouso’s testimony provides a novel immersion in the
type of interaction, disputes, and outcomes revolving around the criminaliza-
tion of ayahuasca, granting the public at large access to uncharted territories.
Finally, there is a short afterword that closes the book. Since the begin-
ning of the endeavor to publish this volume in 2018, a lot has changed; sadly,
for the worse. In light of this, the afterword addresses the backlash on aya-
huasca in Europe; more specifically, in Spain. This piece—written in early
2023 by Labate, Cavnar, Antunes, and Assis—contests the growing crimi-
nalization of ayahuasca and the alarming stigmatization and persecution of
ayahuasca groups. This chapter is a testament to the current struggles and
growing challenges that the world ayahuasca diaspora faces, and a call for a
change in the landscape of the global regulation of ayahuasca.
One can thus note that the collection of works gathered here, from different
disciplines and geographic areas, provides an inestimable contribution to the
academic debate regarding the global regulation of ayahuasca. In this regard,
this edited volume not only addresses important and controversial issues
around religious freedom, drug policies, cultural heritage, and social stigma-
tization, but it also provides the most complete account of the issues that arise
when ayahuasca becomes the concern of public authorities and media outlets.
Through a comparative analysis of the different contexts in which this psy-
choactive substance is consumed, this work also investigates the conceptual,
philosophical, and legal distinctions among the fields of shamanism, religion,
and medicine. In the midst of many approaches and disputes, one thing seems
sure: The global expansion of ayahuasca is here to stay, and the legal con-
troversies will certainly be an increasing concern for ayahuasca groups. We
hope, therefore, that our initiative can not only provide a better understand-
ing of the challenges that ayahuasca groups and drinkers face in a global
context, but may also serve as a plea for an open public debate on the use of
ayahuasca between ayahuasca groups and state agencies, as well as between
ayahuasca groups themselves. We conclude by expressing our solidarity with
the many people victimized by legal abuse due to their religious practices and
hope this book will help promote equitable legal developments worldwide.
References
Andrade, A. P. (1995). O fenômeno do chá e a religiosidade cabocla [The phe-
nomenon of tea and cabocla religiosity] (Master’s thesis). Instituto Metodista de
Ensino Superior.
Introduction 15
Araújo, W. (1999). Navegando sobre as ondas do Daime. História, cosmologia
e ritual na Barquinha [Sailing on the waves of Daime. History, cosmology and
ritual in Barquinha]. Unicamp.
Brissac, S. (1999). A Estrela do Norte iluminando até o Sul. Uma etnografia da
União doVegetal em um contexto urbano [The North Star lighting up the South:
An ethnography of União do Vegetal in an urban context (Master’s thesis). UFRJ/
Museu Nacional.
Cemin, A. B. (1998). Ordem, xamanismo e dádiva. O poder do Santo Daime
[Order, shamanism and gift: The power of Santo Daime] (Doctoral dissertation).
USP.
Dias, Jr., W. (1992). O império de Juramidam nas Batalhas do Astral: uma car-
tografia do imaginário no culto do Santo Daime [The empire of Juramidam in
the Battles of the Astral: A cartography of the imaginary in the Santo Daime cult]
(Master’s thesis). PUC-SP.
Dobkin de Rios, M. (1972). Visionary vine: Hallucinogenic healing in the Peruvian
Amazon. Chandler.
Fassin, D. (2012). On humanitarian reason: A moral history of the present. Uni-
versity of California Press.
Fróes, V. (1983). História do Povo Juramidam: a cultura do Santo Daime [History
of the People of Juramidam: The Santo Daime culture]. Suframa.
Goulart, S. L. (1996). As raízes culturais do Santo Daime [The cultural roots of
Santo Daime] (Master’s thesis). USP.
Groisman, A. (1991). Eu venho da floresta: ecletismo e práxis xamânica daimista
no Céu do Mapiá [I come from the forest: Eclecticism and Daimist shamanic
praxis in Céu do Mapiá (Master’s thesis). UFSC.
Guimarães, M. B. L. (1992). A “Lua Branca” de Seu Tupinambá e de Mestre Iri-
neu: estudo de caso de um terreiro de umbanda [The “white moon” of Seu
Tupinambá and Mestre Irineu: A case study of an Umbanda terreiro] (Master’s
thesis). UFRJ.
Harner, M. J. (1973). The sound of rushing water. In Harner, M. J. (Ed.), Hallu-
cinogens and shamanism (pp. 15–27). Oxford University Press.
Henman, A. (1986). Uso del Ayahuasca en un contexto autoritario. El caso de la
União do Vegetal en Brasil [Use of ayahuasca in an authoritarian context: The
case of the União do Vegetal in Brazil]. América Indígena, 46(1), 219–234.
Kesinger, K. M. (1973). Banisteriopsis usage among the Peruvian Cashinahua. In
M. J. Harner (Ed.), Hallucinogens and shamanism (pp. 9–14). Oxford University
Press.
Labate, B. C. (2004). A reinvenção do uso da ayahuasca nos centros urbanos
[A reinvention of the use of ayahuasca in urban centers]. Mercado de Letras,
FAPESP.
Labate BC, Antunes H, de Assis GL, Gomes B, Smith M, Cavnar C (2022). On
epistemic injustices, biomedical research with Indigenous people, and the legal
regulation of ayahuasca in Brazil: The production of new injustices? Transcul-
tural Psychiatry, 59(5), 705–-710. doi:10.1177/13634615221120869.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2014). Ayahuasca shamanism in the Amazon
and beyond. Oxford University Press.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2018). The expanding world ayahuasca dias-
pora: Appropriation, integration and legislation. Routledge.
Labate, B. C., Cavnar, C., & Gearin, A. K. (Eds.). (2017). The world ayahuasca
diaspora: Reinventions and controversies. Routledge.
Labate, B. C., & Feeney, K. (2014). The expansion of Brazilian ayahuasca reli-
gions: Law, culture and locality. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Prohi-
bition, religious freedom, and human rights: Regulating traditional drug use
(pp. 111–130). Springer.
Labate, B. C., & Jungaberle, H. (Eds.). (2011). The internationalization of aya-
huasca. Lit Verlag.
Labate, B. C., & Sena Araújo, W. (Eds.). (2002). O uso ritual da ayahuasca [The
ritual use of ayahuasca]. Mercado de Letras.
Langdon, E. J. (1986). Las clasificaciones del yajé dentro del grupo Siona: etno-
botânica, etnoquímica e historia [Classifications of yajé within the Siona group:
Ethnobotany, ethnochemistry and history]. América Indígena, 46(1), 101–116.
La Rocque Couto, F. (1989). Santos e Xamãs – Estudos do uso ritualizado da
ayahuasca por caboclos da Amazônia, e, em particular, no que concerne sua
utilização sócio-terapêutica na doutrina do Santo Daime [Saints and shamans:
Studies on the ritualized use of ayahuasca by caboclos of the Amazon, and, in
particular, regarding its socio-therapeutic use in the Santo Daime doctrine (Mas-
ter’s thesis). UNB.
Luna, L.E. (1986). Vegetalismo: shamanism among the mestizo population of the
Peruvian Amazon. Almqvist and Wiksell International.
MacRae, E. (1992). Guiado pela Lua: Xamanismo e uso ritual da Ayahuasca no
culto do Santo Daime [Guided by the Moon: Shamanism and the ritual use of
ayahuasca in the Santo Daime cult]. Editora Brasiliense.
Mahmood, S. (2015). Religious difference in a secular age: A minority report.
Princeton University Press.
McKenna, D. J., Luna, L. E., & Towers, G. H. N. (1986). Ingredientes biodinámi-
cos en las plantas que se mezclan al ayahuasca: Uma farmacopea tradicional no
investigada [Biodynamic ingredients in plants mixed with ayahuasca. an unre-
searched traditional pharmacopoeia]. América Indígena, 46(1), 73–99.
Monteiro, C. (1983). O Palácio Juramidam – Santo Daime: um ritual de tran-
scendência edespoluição [The palace of Juramidam – Santo Daime: A ritual
of transcendence and depollution. (Master’s thesis). Universidade Federal de
Pernambuco.
Naranjo, P. (1986). El ayahuasca en la arqueologia equatoriana [Ayahuasca in
Ecuadorian archeology]. América Indígena, 46(1), 117–127.
Pelaez, M. C. (1994). No mundo se cura tudo. Interpretações sobre a “cura
espiritual” no Santo Daime [In the world, everything can be healed: Interpreta-
tions on “spiritual healing” in Santo Daime (Master’s thesis). UFSC.
Rebollo, N. (2019). Plantas psicoactivas, fronteras e (i)legalidade [Psychoactive
plants, borders and legality]. Revista Cultura y Droga, 24(28), 62–80. doi:
10.17151/culdr.2019.24.28.4
Sáez, Ó. C. (2018). Foreword. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), The expand-
ing world ayahuasca diaspora: Appropriation, integration and legislation
(pp. x ii–xvii.). Routledge.
Sena Araújo, W. (1999). Navegando sobre as ondas do Daime. História, cosmolo-
gia e ritual na Barquinha [Sailing on the waves of the Daime: History, cosmology
and ritual in Barquinha]. Unicamp.
1 Ayahuasca Vision 2021
Legal Status of Ayahuasca in
the United States
Sean T. McAllister
Ayahuasca exists as a legal dichotomy in the United States, as demonstrated

by the fact that the following two sentences are both true: (a) ayahuasca
contains a Schedule I compound, dimethyltryptamine (DMT), that makes
it criminally illegal in the United States to import, possess, manufacture,
distribute, or assist anyone to do any of the above; and (b) at the same
time, ayahuasca is legal in the United States if its importation, possession,
manufacture, and distribution constitutes religious exercise under the Reli-
gious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) and under analogous state law
protections. The legal dichotomy with ayahuasca continues with the fol-
lowing statements, both of which are true: (a) the US Drug Enforcement
Administration (DEA), a federal law enforcement agency within the US
Department of Justice, has crafted an administrative process for religious
adherents using ayahuasca to apply for a religious exemption from criminal
sanctions and prohibitions under the Controlled Substances Act (CSA); and
(b) the DEA has never voluntarily granted such an administrative exemp-
tion absent a court order to do so.
As explained below, the legal status of ayahuasca in the United States
remains contradictory, confusing, and unclear. This chapter discusses the
legal protections and uncertainties around the legal status of ayahuasca
in the United States. In particular, RFRA is examined in detail to under-
stand what protections it provides regarding ayahuasca. The Courts have
developed a complex set of factors for assessing the sincerity of religious
practices under RFRA, which the DEA applies as part of its administrative
assessment of applications for religious exemption to the CSA.
Next, the chapter reviews the two churches that have been granted
exceptions to use ayahuasca under US law: Santo Daime and the União do
Vegetal (UDV). The Supreme Court’s Hobby Lobby decision is also reviewed
to assess its impact on the recognition of ayahuasca churches under federal
law. The chapter also takes a detailed look at the DEA administrative pro-
cess for obtaining an exemption from the CSA for the religious use of aya-
huasca, including assessing the Meyers’ factors created by the Courts in the
criminal context and applied by the DEA.
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-2 17
18 Sean T. McAllister
Current lawsuits against the DEA regarding the religious use of ayahuasca
are reviewed: the Soul Quest and Arizona Yage Assembly cases. The DEA’s
plan for formal agency rulemaking around the granting of religious exemp-
tions for ayahuasca use is discussed in this context as well. The chapter also
covers a recent trend of ayahuasca shipments being seized at the border and
concerns around importation of the substance. State-level protections for
ayahuasca use, or the lack thereof, are also reviewed. Finally, the chapter
reviews the impact of state- and city-level drug decriminalization measures
on ayahuasca use.
As this chapter outlines, the law in the United States around ayahuasca
is complex, often confusing, and contradictory. The complexity suggests
that adherents whose religious exercise involves ayahuasca need to pro-
ceed with extreme caution, fully understanding the risks and legal pro-
tections surrounding their activities. Proceeding without extreme caution
with ayahuasca may trigger seizure, civil asset forfeiture, or even criminal
prosecutions.
The First Amendment Does Not Protect Ayahuasca Use

The most common misunderstanding in the United States about ayahuasca
is that its use is protected under the First Amendment of the Constitution,
under the free exercise of religion clause, which famously states, “Congress
shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting
the free exercise thereof …” (US Const. Amend I). Prior to passage of the
RFRA in 1993, the US Supreme Court, in 1990, held that the protections
for religious liberty in the First Amendment do not prohibit the govern-
ment from burdening or criminalizing religious practices through laws of
general applicability, such as laws prohibiting the use, manufacturing, or
distribution of controlled substances (Employment Div., Dept. of Human
Resources of Ore. v. Smith, 1990). Following the Supreme Court’s decision
in the Smith case, it became clear that the use of controlled substances such
as ayahuasca for religious purposes was not protected from government
interference under the First Amendment.
Religious Freedom Restoration Act

In response to the Smith case, in 1993, Congress passed and President
Clinton signed into law RFRA. RFRA mandates that the “government shall
not substantially burden a person’s exercise of religion even if the burden
results from a rule of general applicability” (42 USC § 2000bb-1[a]). The
exercise of religion is defined broadly to include “any exercise of religion,
whether or not compelled by, or central to, a system of religious belief”
(42 USC § 2000bb-2[4]).
RFRA mandates that the government may only substantially burden the
free exercise of religion if it demonstrates: (1) a compelling governmental
Ayahuasca Vision 2021 19
interest, and (2) it is the least restrictive means of furthering that interest
(42 USC § 2000bb-1[b]). A “substantial burden” is imposed when individ-
uals are forced to choose between following the tenets of their religion and
receiving a governmental benefit or being coerced to act contrary to their
religious beliefs by the threat of civil or criminal sanctions (Navajo Nation v.
U.S. Forest Serv, 2008). Seizing shipments of ayahuasca or criminalizing
the use, possession, and distribution of ayahuasca for religious purposes
have been successfully argued as government actions that constitute a sub-
stantial burden to the exercise of religion.
If a person or group has ayahuasca seized, or is criminally prosecuted
by the government, that person or group would have the initial burden of
showing that they qualify for the protections under RFRA (i.e., that their
exercise of religion was substantially burdened). Once that showing is made,
the burden shifts to the government to substantiate a compelling govern-
mental interest to justify such burden on religious use of ayahuasca and why
the government’s actions were the least restrictive means of pursuing that
interest. RFRA states, “A person whose religious exercise has been burdened
in violation of this section may assert that violation as a claim or defense in a
judicial proceeding and obtain appropriate relief against a government” (42
USC § 20000bb-1[c]). It is important to note that RFRA contemplates the
defense being asserted “in a judicial proceeding” to obtain relief and RFRA
does not explicitly grant the DEA any role in assessing these claims.
The government’s main arguments about why it has a compelling gov-
ernment interest to burden the religious practice of using ayahuasca have
been (a) the need to prevent diversion of ayahuasca for non-religious use;
(b) the need to protect users from the harmful effects of ayahuasca, given
its Schedule I status; and (c) compliance with international drug treaties.
To date, the government has been unable to show there is a compelling
interest to substantially burden the religious use of ayahuasca. As a result,
RFRA is a strong tool and ally available to those who seek use ayahuasca
for religious purposes.
UDV Exemption
In 2006, after several years of litigation, an American branch of the Brazil-
ian UDV church prevailed in its case under RFRA to obtain an exemption
from the CSA for the sacramental use of ayahuasca (Gonzales v. O Centro
Espirita Beneficente União do Vegetal, 2006). Importantly, the govern-
ment did not challenge the fact that the UDV was a valid religion or that
its use of ayahuasca constituted religious exercise. Instead, the government
claimed it had three compelling interests that justified interfering with the
UDV’s religious practice of using ayahuasca; namely, (1) preventing the
diversion of ayahuasca for non-religious purposes, (2) protecting the users
themselves from the health risks of ayahuasca, and (3) adhering to a 1971
UN Convention prohibiting the use of certain drugs, including DMT.
The Supreme Court found no compelling evidence that ayahuasca was
dangerous for users. Further, the government failed to present sufficient evi-
dence of health risks or diversion risks in order to demonstrate a compelling
governmental interest that would justify interference with the UDV’s use of
ayahuasca. Finally, the Court found that the government had not shown
that allowing the religious use of ayahuasca would somehow undermine the
1971 UN Convention.
Following the decision, the UDV and the DEA negotiated a detailed stip-
ulated settlement agreement laying out the church’s rights and obligations.
Specifically, the settlement requires any UDV branch to: (1) notify the DEA
two weeks in advance of all shipments of ayahuasca to the United States,
including the amounts being shipped (Labate, 2012); (2) provide the DEA
with a detailed security plan articulating how the church will ensure there
is no diversion of the sacrament (Labate, 2012); (3) keep detailed records,
including, but not limited to: quantities consumed, number of participants
in each ceremony, and identifying who stores the ayahuasca and under
what conditions; (4) seek DEA licensure should any UDV branch cultivate
the plants needed to produce ayahuasca; and (5) allow the DEA to conduct
inspections to ensure compliance with the agreement at any time other than
ceremony times (Labate, 2012). The agreement between the DEA and the
UDV would likely be difficult to comply with for smaller and less organized
groups. As a result of the agreement with DEA, the UDV is the only aya-
huasca church entitled to use ayahuasca all across the United States (Feeney
et al., 2018).
Santo Daime Exemption

The Santo Daime Church (Santo Daime) is the only other church that has
been successful in obtaining the legal right to use ayahuasca for religious
exercise after the UDV, and they did so by obtaining a permanent injunc-
tion against the DEA in the state of Oregon (Church of the Holy Light
of the Queen v. Mukasey, 2012). The case started when Santo Daime’s
spiritual leader was arrested following his acceptance of a shipment of the
Church’s sacramental tea (Haber, 2011). Santo Daime brought suit against
the Department of Justice and the DEA seeking a permanent injunction
preventing the enforcement of the CSA against their ayahuasca use in
bona fide religious ceremonies (Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v.
Mukasey, 2010).
In January 2012, the Court granted Santo Daime’s injunction. The Court
found, similar to the UDV case, that the government failed to meet its bur-
den to show that the potential health effects of ayahuasca, and the potential
for diversion to non-religious users, were compelling interests that justified
interfering with Santo Daime’s religious activities. Unlike the UDV, Santo
Daime did not engage in negotiation with the DEA to set out a detailed
program for tracking and record keeping of the ayahuasca. Instead, Santo
Daime simply asserts it has broad rights pursuant to the Court’s injunc-
tion, which read the government was “enjoined from prohibiting plaintiffs’
[Santo Daime’s] importation, storage, distribution, and use of Daime tea for
plaintiffs’ religious ceremonies” (Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v.
Mukasey, Injunction, 2012). As a result of this ruling, and subsequent noti-
fications to DEA, Santo Daime has authorization to legally use ayahuasca
as part of ceremonies in Oregon, California, and Washington State. Out-
side of these states, new Santo Daime congregations must apply separately
to DEA for permits and are not automatically recognized as exempt from
CSA prohibitions and criminal sanctions.
Hobby Lobby Case

In addition to the UDV and Santo Daime cases, another important case is
the US Supreme Court decision in Burwell v. Hobby Lobby (2018). In this
case, Hobby Lobby, a privately held, for-profit American arts and crafts
retail company, invoked RFRA, arguing that it was not required to comply
with the government’s contraceptive mandate embedded in the Affordable
Care Act for its employees due to the sincere religious belief of the com-
pany’s founders that life begins at conception. Hobby Lobby argued that
requiring it to provide birth control medication to employees violated its
sincere religious beliefs (Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, 2014).
Like the Supreme Court’s decision in the UDV case, the Court assumed
the religious beliefs of the Hobby Lobby plaintiffs were sincere without
question, inquiry, or argument. More importantly, the Court declared
that federal courts have no business assessing whether “a religious belief
asserted under RFRA is reasonable” (Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, 2014). The
Court explained “it is not for the court to say that their religious beliefs
are mistaken or insubstantial. Instead, our narrow function in this con-
text is to determine whether the line drawn reflects an honest conviction”
(Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, 2014). This shows that Courts are not sup-
posed to decide if a religious belief is mistaken or unreasonable (Thomas v.
Review Bd. of Indiana Employment Security Div., 1981). The Court’s
“narrow function… is to determine” whether the asserted religious belief
reflects “an honest conviction” (Thomas v. Review Bd. of Indiana Employ-
ment Security Div., 1981).
This line of cases is important because it explains that the government
should not attempt to second guess sincerely held religious beliefs. This
should provide some optimism for ayahuasca churches that their ultimate
beliefs, if sincerely held, should not be second guessed by Courts or gov-
ernment agencies. Despite the extreme caution the Courts have taken in
assessing the sincerity of belief, the DEA has regularly delved into the rea-
sonableness of religious beliefs when assessing claims under RFRA. The
inconsistency between these court precedents and the DEA’s aggressive
approach suggests that DEA’s position may be inappropriate. However, as
shown below, the DEA’s scrutiny of religious sincerity is a real obstacle for
those seeking protections under RFRA.
DEA Interim Guidance

In 2009, in response to the UDV case, the DEA published an interim
guidance document entitled “Guidance Regarding Petitions for Religious
Exemption from the Controlled Substances Act Pursuant to the Religious
Freedom Restoration Act” (the “Guidance”) (DEA Interim Guidance,
2009). The Guidance set out the requirements and process for obtaining
a religious exemption from the CSA. As others have noted, the “Interim”
Guidance has been in place 11 years without amendment and without ever
going through a formal rulemaking process (Bartlett, 2019). Given DEA’s
failure to comply with basic administrative law that requires public notice
and comment on any agency rules, the Guidance is very likely unenforcea-
ble (Bartlett, 2019). Even if the Guidance is unenforceable, practitioners are
not protected from prosecution or government interference if they do not
have recognition from the DEA.
There are numerous problems in practice and in principle with the Guid-
ance that have dissuaded many ayahuasca churches from attempting to obtain
such an exemption. First, the Guidance requires churches to stop their con-
sumption of ayahuasca while their petition is being considered by the DEA.
This is arguably an illegal prior restraint on religious activity and RFRA
itself does not require the granting of an exemption to protect the use of aya-
huasca for religious purposes. Next, the Guidance essentially empowers the
DEA to determine the validity of the religion petitioning for an exemption by
requiring detailed information about the basic tenets of the petitioning reli-
gion. Some argue this is an overreach of the DEA’s powers and point to the
fact that there is nothing in the CSA that empowers the DEA to determine the
sincerity of any religious activity (Bartlett, 2019). Finally, there is no deadline
in the Guidance by which DEA must respond to such petitions.
Since issuing the Guidance in 2009, the DEA has not issued religious
exemptions to any petitioner under the CSA outside of the Court orders
and settlements with Santo Daime and the UDV. In most cases, the DEA
has simply failed to respond to petitions, given the lack of a deadline in the
Guidance, and forced petitioners to sue the agency before seriously engag-
ing on the merits of the petition. If a petitioner is successful in obtaining an
exemption from the DEA under the Guidance, the DEA will likely demand
the church enter into a detailed agreement with the DEA similar to the
UDV agreement described above.
Given the burden of the DEA exemption process, many groups have opted
to forego seeking an administrative exemption. Instead, these groups have
taken other measures to formalize their groups activities, including incor-
porating as religious non-profits at the state and federal level, documenting
their religious beliefs, and operating in a discreet manner so as to not draw
attention to themselves. However, a few groups have sued the DEA in an
attempt to force the DEA to grant them an exemption. As explained in the
next section, the DEA applies an extraordinarily rigorous test to determine
if plant medicine groups qualify as a religion under US law.
DEA’s Use of Meyers and Quaintance Factors

Several court cases over the years have attempted to fashion a test for
what qualifies as a bona fide religion or sincere religious belief, but the
DEA relies primarily on two cases when assessing whether a religion is
valid: U.S. v. Meyers and U.S. v. Quaintance (United States v. Meyers, 95
F.3d 1475 [10th Cir.] 1996; United States v. Quaintance, 471 F.Supp.2d
1153 [D.N.M], 2006. See also, Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205, 1972;
Alvarado v. City of San Jose, 94 F.3d 1223, 1229 [9th Cir.] 1996; and
Africa v. Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, 662 F.2d 1025, 1032 [3d Cir.]
1981). As explained below, these cases present significant challenges for
plant medicine communities seeking recognition from the DEA, in spite of
arguments suggesting these cases should have limited applicability. How-
ever, the case law also provides a potential road map, albeit flawed in some
respects, to help religious users of ayahuasca respond to the government’s
investigation of their religious sincerity.
In U.S. v. Meyers, David Meyers appealed his conviction of conspiracy
with intent to distribute marijuana on the grounds that his activities were
based on his religious beliefs around marijuana. Importantly, the Court
held that the “threshold for establishing the religious nature of his beliefs is
low,” suggesting that Courts and the DEA should not apply a rigorous test
to any of these factors (U.S. v. Meyers, 1996, at 1482–1483). The Court
explained that an aggrieved party must make an initial showing that a sin-
cere religious belief was substantially burdened before the burden shifts to
the government to show why the government had a compelling state inter-
est to impair such a right. The Court then employed the following factors
to assess whether the criminal defendants’ set of beliefs could properly be
considered a religion, explaining them as follows:
1 Ultimate Ideas: Religious beliefs often address fundamental questions

about life, purpose, and death.
2 Metaphysical Beliefs: Religious beliefs often address a reality which
transcends the physical world and believe there is another dimension or
temporality that is inhabited by spirits, souls, forces, deities, and other
sorts of intangible entities.
3 Moral or Ethical System: Religious beliefs often set moral or ethical
standards that delineate right and wrong, good and evil, or just and
unjust. These moral or ethical beliefs may create duties imposed by a
higher power, force, or spirit that may require a believer to abnegate
self-interest.
4 Comprehensiveness of Beliefs: Religious ideas should be comprehen-
sive and provide the believer with answers to many, if not most, of the
problems and concerns that confront humans. In other words, religious
beliefs generally are not confined to one question or a single teaching.
5 Accoutrements of Religion: The following indicators also may indicate
a particular set of beliefs is religious.
a Founder/Prophet/Lineage: Whether the religion has a founder,
prophet, teacher, or lineage that followers believe is divine, enlight-
ened, gifted, or blessed.
b Important Writings: Whether the religion has fundamental or
sacred writings, prayers, chants, rites, or mantras.
c Gathering Places: Whether the religion designates a particular
structure or location as sacred, holy, or significant. These sites
often serve as gathering places for believers and can include phys-
ical structures or natural places, such as springs, rivers, forests,
plains, or mountains.
d Keepers of Knowledge: Whether the religion has clergy, ministers,
shamans, teachers, or sages who are keepers of religious knowledge.
e Ceremonies and Rituals: Whether the religion includes some forms
of ceremony, ritual, sacrament, or protocol that are prescribed by
the religion and are imbued with transcendent significance.
f Structure or Organization: Whether the religion has an internal
hierarchy to lead believers.
g Holidays: Whether the religion celebrates important holidays.
h Diet or Fasting: Whether the religion prescribes or prohibits the
eating of certain foods and the drinking of certain liquids on par-
ticular days or during particular times.
i Appearance and Clothing: Whether the religion prescribes believ-
ers’ physical appearance or clothing.
j Propagation: Whether the religion attempts to propagate their
views and persuade others of their correctness (U.S. v. Meyers,
1996, 1483–1484).
After enumerating the above test, the lower court in the Meyers case
expounded upon it in the following passage:
Under this low-threshold inclusion test, the Court presumes that the fol-
lowing sets of beliefs are religious: Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hindu-
ism, Buddhism, Shintoism, Confucianism, and Taoism. Undoubtedly,
the test also would lead to the conclusion that the beliefs of the follow-
ing groups are religious: Hare Krishnas, Bantus, Mormons, Seventh
Day Adventists, Christian Scientists, Scientologists, Branch Davidians,
Unification Church Members, and Native American Church Members
(whether Shamanists or Ghost Dancers). More likely than not, the
test also includes obscure beliefs such as Paganism, Zoroastrianism,
Pantheism, Animism, Wicca, Druidism, Satanism, and Santeria. And,
casting a backward glance over history, the test assuredly would have
included what we now call mythology: Greek religion, Norse religion,
and Roman religion.
All of this probable inclusion leads to an obvious question: Is any-
thing excluded? Purely personal, political, ideological, or secular beliefs
probably would not satisfy enough criteria for inclusion. Examples of
such beliefs are: nihilism, anarchism, pacifism, utopianism, socialism,
libertarianism, Marxism, vegetism, and humanism (U.S. v Meyers,
1996 [internal quotations omitted]). (See also, Africa, 662 F.2d at
1036 [holding that beliefs are secular, not religious]; Berman, 156 F.2d
at 380–81 [holding that beliefs are moral and social, not religious];
Jacques, 569 F. Supp. at 736 [holding that beliefs are personal, not
religious]; Church of the Chosen People, 548 F. Supp. at 1253 [holding
that beliefs are sexual and secular, not religious]).
Applying these factors, the Meyers Court found that Meyers had failed to
meet the test for religious sincerity for the following reasons:
While Meyers may sincerely believe that his beliefs are religious, this
Court cannot rely on his sincerity to conclude that his beliefs rise to
the level of a religion and therefore trigger RFRA’s protections. Meyers
is, of course, absolutely free to think or believe what he wants. If he
thinks that his beliefs are a religion, then so be it. No one can restrict
his beliefs, and no one should begrudge him those beliefs. None of this,
however, changes the fact that his beliefs do not constitute a religion
as that term is uneasily defined by law. Were the Court to recognize
Meyers’ beliefs as religious, it might soon find itself on a slippery slope
where anyone who was cured of an ailment by a medicine that had
pleasant side-effects could claim that they had founded a constitution-
ally or statutorily protected religion based on the beneficial medicine. …
Meyers’ professed beliefs have an ad hoc quality that neatly justify his
desire to smoke marijuana. … Meyers’ beliefs more accurately espouse
a philosophy and/or way of life rather than a religion.
(U.S. v Meyers, 1996, at 1484)
There are several noticeable limitations, lessons, and implications of the

Meyers case. First, it should be noted that the case was decided by a US
Circuit Court of Appeals for the Tenth Circuit, covering Colorado, New
Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Wyoming, and Utah. The case is not binding
legal precedent all across the United States, though it would likely be seen
as an instructive decision in other circuits. The only US Supreme Court case
regarding ayahuasca, the UDV case discussed above, did not assess the sin-
cerity of the UDV religion and therefore there is not a uniform, nationwide
standard on how to assess religious sincerity at this point.
Next, the factors set out in the Meyers case show a judicial bias and
a strong preference for Western stylized religious motifs like a holy text,
hierarchy, and detailed doctrines, rules, dogma, and punishments for poor
behavior. Many of these concepts are foreign to the indigenous traditions
from which ayahuasca use derived. For example, for many people, aya-
huasca is a revelatory religious experience, where the meaning is not set out
in advance, but only revealed in the depth of the experience. Nevertheless,
the Meyers factors provide a loose framework for ayahuasca churches to
assess their practices in light of Court’s factors, but certainly should not
be viewed as an end to the debate over what constitutes protected religious
exercise in the United States.
Next, balancing out the detailed list of Meyers factors is the explana-
tion in RFRA itself that the exercise of religion includes “any exercise of
religion, whether or not compelled by, or central to, a system of religious
belief,” which reinforces the finding in the Meyers case that the thresh-
old for showing a certain practice is religious in nature is low (42 USC
§ 2000bb-2[4]). This expansion of RFRA’s definition of religious exercise
was passed in 2000 as part of the Religious Land Use and Institutional-
ized Persons Act and postdates the Myers decision (42 USC § 2000cc et
seq). The expanded definition suggests that, so long as the use of ayahuasca
is religious in nature, even if it is not central to a religious belief, then it
can qualify as a religious practice. Any practitioner could also point to the
fact that ayahuasca is a recognized religious practice for both the UDV
and Santo Daime, though this recognition alone does not ensure all future
ayahuasca-based churches would otherwise meet judicial factors for assess-
ing religious exercise.
Finally, the DEA relies on the Quaintance case to assess the sincerity of
religious practices (U.S. v Quaintance, 2006). In Quaintance, members
of the marijuana Church of Cognizance sought to set aside a conviction
for possession of more than 50 kilograms of marijuana with intent to
distribute. The Court applied RFRA and the Meyers factors in this case
and found that the alleged marijuana church failed to qualify as a religion
(U.S. v Quaintance, 2006).
One defendant in the Quaintance lower courts testified the “purpose of
life is to live a good life and help others. … the church teaches that the main
thing in life is extending life and to live as long a life as possible” (U.S. v
Quaintance, 2006, at 1157). The Quaintance Court found there was noth-
ing “ultimate, profound, or imponderable” about the church’s explanation
of the meaning of life and therefore it did not meet the “ultimate idea”
standard of the Meyers factors (U.S. v Quaintance, 2006, at 1157). For
example, the Court found “Defendants’ beliefs also ignore existential or
cosmological concerns, such as an individual’s existence, his or her place
in the universe, the nature or natural order of the universe, and the origin,
structure, and space-time relationships of the universe” (U.S. v Quaint-
ance, 2006, at 1157).
In terms of metaphysical beliefs, the Court stated, “The fact that
cannabis has helped [the defendants] focus before,” or that marijuana
makes “many people feel more alive, more aware, more in tune, like-
wise is not metaphysical or religious” (U.S. v Quaintance, 2006 at 1158–
1159). However, the Court found that, because the Defendants noted
that marijuana is a “spiritual force that has the ability to accomplish
things in the physical world,” they had minimally met the metaphysical
belief criteria, noting the threshold should be low (U.S. v Quaintance,
2006 at 1159).
In terms of a moral and ethical system, the Court found that
A spiritual or ethical system is not comprised of simply one vague and

unspecific motto. A simple phrase may sum up a morality, but the
phrase alone cannot be the extent of the morality. The phrase must be
underpinned by a more elaborate ethics.
(U.S. v Quaintance, 2006, at 1161)
Because the defendants’ moral and ethical system was summed up as “good
thoughts, good words, good deeds,” the Court concluded that the defend-
ants had not demonstrated that their beliefs were a moral or ethical system
within the meaning of Meyers (U.S. v Quaintance, 2006, at 1161).
In this case, each member of the church was entitled to adopt his or
her own individual beliefs. The Court found this meant that the church’s
beliefs were not comprehensive, stating, “the singular belief in the power
of marijuana (even if that belief allegedly provides Defendants with a com-
prehensive set of answers to life’s problems) is insufficient as a matter of
law to constitute a comprehensive set of religious beliefs” (U.S. v Quaint-
ance, 2006, at 1164). Therefore, the defendants’ beliefs were found to be
mono-faceted and centered around marijuana.
In addition to these formal Meyers factors, the Court addressed several
other considerations including: (1) Ad Hoc Beliefs, (2) Quantity of the
Substance Involved, (3) Evidence of Commerce, (4) Lack of Ceremony or
Ritual, and (5) Other Illegal Substances. The Court found that the Defend-
ants previously viewed marijuana as a non-religious recreational endeavor,
and therefore later claims to religious activity were ad hoc and undermined
the sincerity of the religion (U.S. v Quaintance, 2006, at 1164). The Court
noted the quantity of marijuana involved (equivalent of 229,000 marijuana
cigarettes), suggested the Defendants possessed far more cannabis than
needed to supply their members. The Court found the evidence of com-
merce, where the Defendant would be paid to transport cannabis, created a
motive for profit, not religious activity. The Court noted there was no cer-
emony or questioning of a members’ beliefs before they became a member
of the cannabis church, indicating membership was a convenience to justify
criminal behavior and not a religious practice. Finally, the Court found that
the fact the Defendants used cocaine on a regular basis undermined their
claim they used cannabis for religious, and not secular purposes (U.S. v
Quaintance, 2006, at 1174).
Similar to the Meyers case, the Quaintance case is not binding law across
the United States and pre-dates the expansion of RFRA’s definition of reli-
gious exercise when Congress passed the Religious Land Use and Insti-
tutionalized Persons Act in 2000. That said, and generally speaking, the
case also provides potential guidance of practices for ayahuasca churches
to avoid in order to be recognized as a bona fide religion. This includes
avoiding practices or doctrine that make the religion look like a guise to
avoid criminal prosecution, limiting the quantity of ayahuasca possessed
to a reasonable amount needed to supply the church members, properly
screening and indoctrinating church members, and avoiding the use of mul-
tiple controlled substances.
Soul Quest Church of Mother Earth Case

Soul Quest is perhaps the most well-known ayahuasca church in the United
States. It is incorporated as a non-profit in Florida and is located in Orlando.
Ayahuasca is Soul Quest’s core sacrament, but it has admitted to members
using multiple plant-based sacraments over the years, including ibogaine
and mescaline. Soul Quest’s religious doctrine asserts that ayahuasca ele-
vates users closer to the divine and ayahuasca’s use is commanded by God
(See Soul Quests’ doctrine, available at https://www.ayahuascachurches.
org/). Among other doctrine focusing on the divine elements of and inter-
relationship to Mother Earth, Soul Quest has also adopted the Ayahuasca
Manifesto as part of its liturgy (Ayahuasca Manifesto, 2012).
The DEA has been aware of and has been monitoring Soul Quest for sev-
eral years. In August 2016, the DEA sent a warning letter to Soul Quest’s
founder and spiritual leader, Chris Young, requesting he cease and desist
in his use and distribution of ayahuasca (DEA Warning Letter, 2016). The
DEA requested that Young submit a petition so that it may evaluate it
“based on the specific facts regarding your plans to distribute controlled
substances” (DEA Warning Letter, 2016). In response, Soul Quest submit-
ted a 157-page petition to the DEA seeking an exemption to the CSA under
the DEA’s Guidance in August of 2017. After waiting nearly three years
without a response from the DEA, Soul Quest filed suit in the spring of
2020 seeking the Court to order the DEA to grant it an exemption from the
CSA for its use of ayahuasca (Soul Quest Church of Mother Earth, Inc. v.
Barr, 2020; See also, Hartney &Bartlett, 2020).
Soul Quest’s lawsuit is a direct frontal assault on the DEA’s process for
petitioning for a religious exemption. Soul Quest asserts its activities are
protected under RFRA. It states that the DEA’s threats to arrest and pros-
ecute its activities violate the Constitution and RFRA. The lawsuit seeks a
permanent injunction prohibiting the DEA from prosecuting Soul Quest
members for their religious activities. The lawsuit notes that the DEA’s
Guidance was adopted without proper procedure and that the DEA has
never granted an exemption to anyone other than the UDV and Santo
Daime and absent judicial relief.
In response to the lawsuit, the DEA and Soul Quest agreed to stay the
litigation while the DEA evaluated Soul Quest’s petition for an exemption
from the CSA. As part of this assessment of Soul Quest’s church, the DEA
sent Soul Quest a detailed letter asking them to explain many aspects of
their history and religious doctrine. Among the topics addressed by the
DEA’s inquiry was asking Soul Quest to address the following subjects:
(a) Soul Quest’s relationship with the Oklevueha Native American Church
(ONAC), (b) whether Soul Quest conducts any ceremonies outside of Flor-
ida with other organizations; (c) explaining its varying descriptions of its
theology as either syncretic Christian, or based on Mother Earth concepts
of Indigenous Peoples of South America, (d) identifying all controlled sub-
stances other than ayahuasca used since August 2017, (e) Soul Quest’s pric-
ing structure for ceremonies; (f) identifying the source and quantity of the
imported ayahuasca materials, and the quantity imported each year since
January 2017; (g) whether Soul Quest has written policies for security,
recordkeeping, and storage of controlled substances; and (h) requesting
Soul Quest’s medical screening form and the names of all medical person-
nel providing medical services on site. In addition to the questionnaire, the
DEA conducted site visits and interviewed Church leaders and members as
part of its assessment of Soul Quest’s claims.
Following its investigation, on April 16, 2021, the DEA issued a formal
denial of Soul Quest’s petition for an exemption for its ceremonial use of
ayahuasca under the CSA. While the DEA did not make a determination of
whether Soul Quest is a bona fide religion, the DEA’s denial shows it intends
to engage in a very rigorous assessment of any applications for exemptions.
In the Soul Quest denial, the DEA noted that Soul Quest cites the Ayahuasca
Manifesto as a sacred text to the church, but during DEA interviews, only
one staff member mentioned this document. The DEA also noted that it
doesn’t appear participants in church activities are required to understand
church doctrine. The DEA noted participants generally visit once, or a few
times, and don’t actively participate in the church. Next, the DEA claimed
that the repeated focus on ayahuasca being a healing medicine, or therapeu-
tic, cut against claims of religious exercises. In other words, in the DEA’s
opinion, if you are doing therapeutic practices, and not religious ones, that
undermines claims of religious exemptions. The DEA suggested that Soul
Quest’s prior affiliation with ONAC, which subsequently ended, was done
simply to cloak its activities with religiosity. Finally, the DEA found that
the convoluted shipment route of the ayahuasca to Soul Quest (from South
America to Europe, to New York, to Iowa, and then to Florida) showed
that there was a real potential for diversion.
Despite the DEA’s denial, Soul Quest’s litigation is ongoing as of the
winter 2022. The group has filed an amended complaint and asked for an
emergency injunction to prevent any prosecution of its leaders or members.
However, the Soul Quest case shows that if you turn yourself over for an
assessment to DEA, they are likely to apply very rigorous standards to the
ayahuasca churches in an effort to minimize the number of exemptions
granted. For this reason, many groups likely will avoid this DEA exemption
process. On the other hand, the DEA’s decision provides yet another list of
instructive concerns that could help guide future ayahuasca churches.
Arizona Yage Assembly Case

Shortly after Soul Quest initiated its lawsuit, another set of plaintiffs filed
suit on similar grounds. In May 2020, the Arizona Yage Assembly (AYA),
North American Association of Visionary Churches (NAAVC), and Clay
Villanueva (collectively, “AYA”) filed suit against the US Attorney General
Barr, the DEA, and the DOJ in federal district court in California claiming
the laws prohibiting importation, distribution, and possession of ayahuasca
substantially burdened their religious practices (Arizona Yage Assembly
et al. v. Barr, 2020). The complaint states it is the law of the land under
RFRA that a sincere religious practitioner may consume ayahuasca tea for
sacramental purposes, and that the DEA must exempt that conduct from
criminal and administrative sanction. Importantly, and unlike Soul Quest,
AYA did not file a petition or seek an administrative exemption for religious
exercise with the DEA. It went right to federal court.
The complaint asserted the very activity of drinking ayahuasca con-
firms their religious intent, because it is a demanding visionary experience
that delivers rewards commensurate with sincerity. The founder of AYA
expressed it: “Ayahuasca is the holy Sacrament of AYA, of which con-
gregants must partake to receive the blessing of Communion” (AYA Com-
plaint, 2020). AYA’s doctrine teaches that sharing ayahuasca sacramentally
in ceremony is sharing a sacred substance that is not merely physical, and
has the capacity to heal the entire human being, body, spirit, and mind,
so that congregants can extend this healing to others and our entire world
environment (AYA Complaint, 2020).
The complaint explains that the NAAVC is an interdenominational asso-
ciation of visionary churches, formed as a religious non-profit corporation
in the State of California. The complaint explains that NAAVC would
like to import sacramentally prepared ayahuasca from South American
sources, and to distribute ayahuasca to visionary churches, but that the
DEA’s threats to enforce the CSA substantially burden NAAVC’s rights
because they cannot import ayahuasca without fear of prosecution (AYA
Complaint, 2020).
The complaint argues that the DEA has no statutory authority under
either the CSA or RFRA to judge the sincerity of religious practices. It
argues that the DEA Guidance imposes an unconstitutional prior restraint
on religion exercise. The complaint states the DEA Guidance violates the
Fifth Amendment by compelling them to self-incriminate themselves and
admit illegal behavior. Based on these concerns, AYA sought a decree estab-
lishing its right to an exemption from the CSA prohibitions on manufactur-
ing, distributing, importing, or dispensing ayahuasca. The complaint also
asked the Court to invalidate the DEA Guidance as unconstitutional (AYA
Complaint, 2020).
Following the filing of the complaint, the case took several unexpected
turns. First, 14 days after the complaint was filed, a joint state/federal
drug task force raided the home of Plaintiff Clay Villanueva and seized
91 pounds of ayahuasca paste, 15 bottles of ayahuasca liquid, over 260
grams of psilocybin mushrooms, and more than $14,000 in cash (AYA
Order Granting Defendants’ Motion to Dismiss, 2020). Plaintiffs quickly
amended their complaint to allege a violation of Villanueva’s civil rights.
While AYA viewed the raid as a direct result of Villanueva asserting his
rights, the defendants in the Court claimed the raid was merely the result of
a routine tip and was not taken as retaliation for the lawsuit. In the summer
of 2021, Clay Villanueva was arrested and charged with numerous felonies
related to his plant medicine work.
In the fall of 2020, the federal judge in the civil case agreed with the
government and dismissed the civil rights claim, along with other claims in
the case, due to defects in the complaint (AYA Order Granting Defendants’
Motion to Dismiss, 2020). In this case, like in the Soul Quest case, the
DEA offered to consider a request for exemption of the Plaintiffs. So far,
the Plaintiffs have declined this offer, believing the DEA’s process is fatally
flawed and illegal. As of this writing, the Plaintiffs have decided to transfer
venue to the federal district court in Arizona and amend the complaint to
address the issues identified with the initial judge in the case. Clay Villanue-
va’s criminal case remains open.
Announcement of DEA Rulemaking Process

As part of a request for an extension of time in the AYA case, the govern-
ment submitted a declaration to the Court that created significant hope and
concern in the ayahuasca community. The DEA declaration explained that
DEA is also actively engaged in updating and revising DEA’s existing
regulations
to incorporate consideration of issues arising under the Religious Free-

dom Restoration Act (RFRA) and to lay out the procedures by which
applications for religious exemptions are to be handled. Revised reg-
ulations, when implemented, would supersede the document entitled
Guidance Regarding Petitions for Religious Exemption from the Con-
trolled Substances Act Pursuant to the Religious Freedom Restoration
Act (2009 Guidance) (Declaration of Scott A. Brinks, Staff Coordinator,
Policy Section, Import-Export Section, DEA, filed on July 16, 2020).
(Arizona Yage Assembly et al. v. Barr, 2020)
The DEA’s announcement that it would engage in rulemaking has created

another opportunity and challenge for the ayahuasca community in the
United States. In the declaration, the DEA explained the rulemaking pro-
cess as follows,
DEA expects to publish a Notice of Proposed Rulemaking in the

Federal Register to obtain the views of the regulated community
and the public. … DEA will open a public comment period, likely of
60 days, in accordance with DEA’s typical practice. DEA will consider
any comments received, make any needed revisions, and then publish
a Final Rule in the Federal Register (Declaration of Scott A. Brinks,
Staff Coordinator, Policy Section, Import-Export Section, DEA, filed
on July 16, 2020).
(Arizona Yage Assembly et al. v. Barr, 2020)
The DEA has, to date, given no indication of what the proposed rule would
look like. Further, and with Joe Biden assuming the presidency in January
of 2021, it remains to be seen if the DEA will actually carry forward with
the proposed rulemaking. Once the new leadership is in place, in the best-
case scenario, the DEA could begin rulemaking as soon as the summer of
2021, but likely much later than that.
If the DEA promulgates new rules, whether they will be more or less
favorable to the ayahuasca community than the Guidance remains to be
seen. Either way, it is essential that affected communities and stakeholders
monitor this process and provide public comment to ensure the DEA con-
sider the ayahuasca religious community’s voice during this process.
Seizures of Ayahuasca Shipments from South America

When an ayahuasca church attempts to import ayahuasca, these shipments
may be seized by US Customs Border Patrol (CBP) as suspected controlled
substances (19 C.F.R. 145.59). In 2020, the ayahuasca community in the
United States saw a significant increase of seizures of ayahuasca being
shipped into the United States, primarily from South America (Chacruna
Council for the Protection of Sacred Plants, 2020). Public information
released by CBP indicates there were over 200 ayahuasca seizures at the
border in 2020. As a result, many practitioners are seeking alternative
sources of ayahuasca within the United States to avoid the problems around
the seizure of packages from South America.
For non-ayahuasca shipments, if a package is seized, the CBP is required
to give the recipient formal notice of the seizure (See § 19 C.F.R. 162,
et. seq.). However, when a package contains a suspected Schedule I drug,
such as ayahuasca, containing DMT, CBP will summarily destroy the pack-
age without providing any formal notice of seizure. As a result, parties
who have ayahuasca seized currently have no way to contest or prevent
the destruction of their property, raising both religious freedom and due
process concerns. As of this writing, there has been at least one instance
where an individual in Washington State sought return of ayahuasca seized
upon importation and was subsequently arrested for a criminal violation.
This highlights the risks of unrecognized religious practitioners importing
ayahuasca.
It should be noted that the legality of exporting ayahuasca from Brazil
or Peru to the United States remains unclear and ambiguous. The Brazilian
government requires a special permit to export ayahuasca out of the coun-
try that is rarely sought or granted (Labate, 2005). From Peru, export of
ayahuasca is legal if it is exported from a recognized church to another rec-
ognized ayahuasca church; but very few ayahuasca churches in the United
States have been formally recognized. Therefore, shippers in Peru are often
unwilling to ship to the United States and those who are will not label these
shipments as ayahuasca as required under federal customs law.
State-Level RFRAs and Constitutional Exemptions

While federal law protects sincere religious practice from the federal gov-
ernment, ayahuasca users and practitioners could still be subject to state
criminal prosecutions. In 1997, the Supreme Court held that RFRA’s pro-
tections for religious liberty only applied to the federal government and
not state governments (City of Boerne v. Flores, 1997). Since this decision,
32 states have passed their own RFRA equivalent laws or have state supreme
court decisions adopting the RFRA standards protecting religious liberty
in these states.1 In each of these states, the state government would have to
show it has a compelling governmental interest and is using the least restric-
tive means necessary to burden a religious practice. Similar to RFRA, at
the state level, ayahuasca practitioners would still have to meet a threshold
showing that they were engaged in protected religious exercise as defined
by state law. To date, no state courts have had the opportunity to address
religious exercise with ayahuasca. Assuming they can show their practices
are religious in nature, ayahuasca users should be protected in these states
under both state and federal law.
At this time, at least six states have explicitly not adopted protections sim-
ilar to RFRA: Maryland (Montrose Christian Sch. Corp. v. Walsh, 2001),
Nebraska (In re Interest of Anaya, 2008), New Jersey (S. Jersey Catholic
Sch. Teachers Org. v. St. Teresa of the Infant Jesus Church Elementary Sch,
1997), North Carolina (State v. Carignan, 2006), Oregon (Meltebeke v.
Bureau of Labor & Indus, 1995), and Vermont (Office of Child Support,
ex rel. Stanzione v. Stanzione, 2006). In each of these states, state courts
have interpreted their respective Constitutional provisions for religious pro-
tections to not exempt practitioners from laws of general applicability, such
as drug prohibition laws. As a result, while practitioners might be immune
from federal prosecution in these states, they could still be prosecuted
under state law. Therefore, practitioners in these states are more vulnerable.
The law remains unclear in the following states: California, 2 Colo-
rado, Delaware, Georgia, Iowa, Montana, Nevada, North Dakota, South
Dakota, Utah, West Virginia, and Wyoming. In these states, the Courts
and legislature have not directly decided what standard should apply to reli-
gious activities, such as the use of ayahuasca, that otherwise violate drug
laws. Therefore, in these states, ayahuasca practitioners should proceed
with caution.
Decriminalized Cities and States

In 2019, Denver became the first city in the nation to decriminalize a psy-
chedelic substance: psilocybin. Denver did not decriminalize other psych-
edelics, such as ayahuasca (McAllister, 2020). Therefore, the psilocybin
decriminalization in Denver does not help ayahuasca practitioners.
Following Denver’s lead, Oakland went further and decriminalized
all entheogenic plants in May 2019 (McAllister, 2020). Oakland’s law
decriminalized the personal possession, use, cultivation, non-commercial
distribution, and manufacturing of ayahuasca within the city limits
(McAllister, 2020). The measure also prohibited law enforcement in Oak-
land from spending any resources to prosecute these crimes (McAllister,
2020). Importantly, the City’s ordinance does not make “engaging in prac-
tices” with ayahuasca per se legal under the City code; it simply makes it
the “lowest law enforcement priority” for the City. Further, the city’s res-
olution does not impact ayahuasca’s continued illegality under California
or federal law.
Other cities have adopted similar measures decriminalizing all entheo-
gens, including ayahuasca, at the city level, including Santa Cruz, Califor-
nia; Washington, D.C.; and Ann Arbor, Michigan. Like Oakland, caution
is also warranted in these decriminalized cities. Nothing prevents state or
federal law enforcement agents from prosecuting someone in a decriminal-
ized city for a crime associated with ayahuasca—though, again, religious
users may have potential defense under federal law (RFRA) or under state
law in states that have adopted their own RFRA protections. Finally, noth-
ing about these city decriminalization measures explicitly authorizes the
import or export of ayahuasca into those cities.
In November 2020, Oregon voters approved Measure 110, the Drug
Addiction Treatment and Recovery Act. The Measure is commonly referred
to as a decriminalization of all personal possession of controlled substances.
However, in reality, the Measure created a low-level offense related to the
possession of controlled substances. If caught with a controlled substance
such as ayahuasca, people in Oregon could either be fined up to $100 or
be required to do a drug and alcohol assessment. While this is decriminali-
zation because there are no possible jail penalties, it is not accurate to say
possession of ayahuasca is legal in Oregon. In addition, the Measure merely
decriminalized possession and not distribution. As noted above, Oregon is
also one of the states that has not adopted a state law version of RFRA that
could be argued to protect religious exercise with ayahuasca. Therefore,
practitioners in Oregon should proceed with caution regarding ayahuasca.
Conclusion
As shown, the laws in the United States around the legality of ayahuasca
are complex, detail oriented, and dichotomous in many ways. Anyone con-
sidering engaging in spiritual or religious practices with ayahuasca should
proceed with extreme caution to minimize their risks. With the Soul Quest
and AYA cases continuing to be litigated in 2021, federal courts will con-
tinue to be the battleground for expansion of protections for religious
communities and adherents working with ayahuasca. Perhaps most impor-
tantly, if the DEA engages in new rulemaking as promised around obtain-
ing an exemption from criminal law for the religious use of ayahuasca,
the ayahuasca religious community will have a significant opportunity to
influence government regulations and policy for years to come. Finally, as
decriminalization measures gain momentum at the state level, the next few
years are likely to be truly historic in terms of the legality of ayahuasca in
the United States. For all these reasons, interested parties should keep a
close eye on developments in the field and seek the help of qualified lawyers
to advise them on these complicated issues.
Notes
1 Alabama, see Alabama Const. Art. 1, Section 3.01; Alaska, see Larson v.
Cooper, 90 P.3d 125 (Alaska 2004); Arizona, see Arizona Revised Statute
41-1493.01; Arkansas, see A.C.A. 16-123-401, et seq.; Connecticut, see Conn.
Gen. Stat. 52-571b; Florida, see Fla. Stat. 761.03; Hawaii, see State v. Armit-
age, 319 P.3d 1044 (Hawaii 2014); Idaho, see Idaho Code 73-402; Illinois,
see 775 ILCS 35/15.; Indiana, see Ind. Code Ann. 34-13-9-8; Kansas, see
K.S.A. 60-5303; Kentucky, see KRS 446.350; Louisiana, see La. R.S. 13:5233;
Maine, see Rupert v. Portland, 605 A.2d 63 (Maine 1992); Massachusetts, see
Rasheed v. Comm’r of Corr., 845 N.E.2d 296 (Mass. 2006); Michigan, see
McCready v. Hoffius, 586 N.W.2d 723 (Mich. 1998); Minnesota, see Odenthal
v. Minn. Conf. of Seventh-Day Adventists, 649 N.W.2d 426 (Minn. 2002);
Mississippi, see Miss. Code Ann. 11-61-1; Missouri, see 1.302 R.S.Mo; New
Hampshire, see State v. Mack, Case No-2019-0171 (N.H. 2020), available at
https://www.courts.state.nh.us/supreme/opinions/2020/2020072Mack.pdf;
New Mexico, see N.M. Stat. Ann. 28-22-3; New York, see Catholic Chari-
ties v. Serio, 859 N.E.2d 459 (N.Y. 2006); Ohio, see Humprey v. Lane, 728
N.E.2d 1039 (Ohio 2000); Oklahoma, 51 Okl. St. 253; Pennsylvania, see 71
P.S. 2404; Rhode Island, see R.I. Gen. Laws 42-80.1-3; South Carolina, see
S.C. Code Ann. 1-32-40; Tennessee, see Tenn. Code Ann. 4-1-407; Texas, see
Tex. Civ. Prac. & Rem. Code 110.003; Virginia, see Va. Code Ann. 57-2.02;
Washington, see State v. Arlene Flowers, 389 P.3d 543 (Wash. 2017); Wiscon-
sin, see Coulee Catholic Sch. v. Labor & Indus. Review Comm’n, 768 N.W.2d
868 (Wis. 2009).
2 Many observers believe California Courts would likely apply a heightened
standard equivalent to the RFRA standard to protect religious exercise based
on People v. Woody, 394 P.2d 813 (Cal. Sup. Ct. 1964), applying the com-
pelling interest test to the government’s attempted prosecution of Native
Americans using peyote for religious purposes.
References
§ 19 C.F.R. 162, et. seq.
19 C.F.R. 145.59.
42 U.S.C. § 2000bb–1(a)
42 U.S.C. § 2000bb-1(c).
42 U.S.C. § 2000bb–1(b).
42 U.S.C. § 2000cc et seq.
42 USC § 2000bb-2(4).
Africa v. Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, 662 F.2d 1025, 1032 (3d Cir. 1981).
Alvarado v. City of San Jose, 94 F.3d 1223, 1229 (9th Cir. 1996).
Arizona Yage Assembly et al. v. Barr. (2020). Declaration of Scott A. Brinks, Staff
Coordinator, Policy Section, Import-Export Section, DEA, filed on July 16,
2020, 20-cv-03098 (D. Ct. N. Dist. CA).
Arizona Yage Assembly et al. v. Barr, 20-cv-03098 (D. Ct. N. Dist. CA) (May 5,
2020).
AYA Complaint. (2020). https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/
Arizona-Yage-Assembly_1_2020.pdf
AYA Order Granting Defendants’ Motion to Dismiss. (2020). https://www.bialabate.
net/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/AYA-Order-to-Dismiss-Sept-2020.pdf
Anonymous. (2012). Ayahuasca Manifesto. https://doorofperception.com/wp-
content/uploads/Ayahuasca-Manifesto_Anonymous_May-1st-2012.pdf
Bartlett, B. (2019). The U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration problem-
atic process for religious exemption for use of prohibited psychoactive
substances. Chacruna.net. https://chacruna.net/the-u-s-drug-enforcement-agencys-
problem at ic-pro c e s s -for -rel ig iou s - exempt ion-for -u s e - of-proh ibited-
psychoactive-substances/
Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, 573 U.S. 682 (2014).
Chacruna Council for the Protection of Sacred Plants. (2020, May 14). Warning:
Increase in recent seizures by Homeland Security in the US. Chacruna.net. https://
chacruna.net/warning-increase-in-recent-seizures-by-homeland-security-in-
the-us/
Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v. Mukasey, 615 F. Supp. 2d 1210 (D.
Or. 2009); Second Amended Judgment. (2012). https://www.bialabate.
net/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/Santo_ Daime_Oregon_ Panner_Order_
Enjoining_Jan_6_2012.pdf
Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v. Mukasey, Injunction. (2012). https://
www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/Santo-Daime_Oregon_
Panner_New_Order_Jan_6_121.pdf
City of Boerne v. Flores. (1997). 521 U.S. 507.
DEA Interim Guidance. (2009). https://www.deadiversion.usdoj.gov/GDP/(DEA-
DC-5)%20Guidance%20Regarding%20Petitions%20for%20Religious%
20Exemptions.pdf
DEA Warning Letter. (2016). https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/
2017/03/Letter_DEA_Soul_Quest_Aug_2016.pdf
Employment Div., Dept. of Human Resources of Ore. v. Smith, 494 U. S. 872
(1990).
Feeney, K., Labate, B. C., & Hudson, J. (2018). Bubbling with controversy:
Legal challenges for ceremonial ayahuasca circles in the United States. In B. C.
Labate and C. Cavnar (Eds.), Plant medicines, healing and psychedelic science
Gonzales v. O Centro Espirita Beneficente Uniao do Vegetal, 546 U.S. 418 (2006).
Haber, R. (2011). The Santo Daime road to seeking religious freedom in the USA.
In B. C. Labate & H. Jungaberle (Eds.), The internationalization of ayahuasca
(pp. 301–318). Lit Verlag.
Hartney, M., & Bartlett, B. (2020, October 13). DEA and the religious exemp-
tion: A fox guarding the henhouse. https://chacruna.net/dea-prohibition-
religious-freedom-ayahuasca-ceremonies/
In re Interest of Anaya, 758 N.W.2d 10, 19 (Neb. 2008).
Labate, B. C. (2005). Legal, ethical, and political dimensions of ayahuasca con-
sumption in Brazil. In B. C. Labate & S. L. Goulart (Eds.), O uso ritual das
plantas de poder (pp. 397–457). Mercado de Letras.
Labate, B. C. (2012). Paradoxes of ayahuasca expansion: The UDV-DEA agree-
ment and the limits of freedom of religion. Drugs: Education, Prevention and
Policy, 19(1), 19–26. doi: 10.3109/09687637.2011.606397
McAllister, S. T. (2020, May 18). Myths and realities about the decrimi-
nalization of psychedelics in the US. Chacruna.net. https://chacruna.net/
myths-and-realities-about-the-decriminalization-of-psychedelics-in-the-us/
Meltebeke v. Bureau of Labor & Indus., 903 P.2d 351, 361 (Or. 1995).
Montrose Christian Sch. Corp. v. Walsh, 770 A.2d 111, 123 (Md. 2001).
Navajo Nation v. U.S. Forest Serv., 535 F.3d 1058, 1070 (9th Cir. 2008).
Office of Child Support, ex rel. Stanzione v. Stanzione, 910 A.2d 882, 887 n.1
(Vt. 2006).
S. Jersey Catholic Sch. Teachers Org. v. St. Teresa of the Infant Jesus Church Ele-
mentary Sch., 696 A.2d 709, 715 (N.J. 1997).
Soul Quest Church of Mother Earth, Inc. v. Barr, 20-cv-00701-WWB-DCI (D. Ct.
Middle Dist. FL) (April 22, 2020).
State v. Carignan, 178 N.C. App. 562, 2006 WL 1984426 (N.C. Ct. App. July, 18,
2006).
Thomas v. Review Bd. of Indiana Employment Security Div., 450 U. S. 707 (1981).
United States v. Meyers, 95 F.3d 1475 (10th Cir. 1996);
United States v. Quaintance, 471 F.Supp.2d 1153 (D.N.M. 2006).
Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205 (1972).
2 Church of the Holy Light of
the Queen v. Mukasey
The Regulation of a Santo Daime
Church in the State of Oregon1
Henrique Fernandes Antunes
In Brazil, besides the vast quantity of Amazonian Indigenous Peoples that

consume ayahuasca, one can also highlight the presence of three ayahuasca
groups founded between the 1930s and 1960s in the Amazon region, Santo
Daime, Barquinha, and the União do Vegetal (UDV), known in the aca-
demic literature as the “Brazilian ayahuasca religions” (Labate & Araújo,
2002). In the late 1970s and beginning of the 1980s, the expansion of aya-
huasca use throughout Brazil created new dynamics, as churches linked to
Santo Daime and UDV were founded in some of the country’s largest cities.
In the following decades, those groups started to expand abroad, establish-
ing branches in Europe, North America, South America, and Asia.
The first Santo Daime church in the United States, Céu do Beija-flor,
was founded in 1988 in Boston. Two years later, Rex Beynon, the leader
of the group, was arrested and detained for four months when a shipment
of Santo Daime from Brazil was intercepted. However, at the time of the
trial, the prosecution withdrew the charges and Beynon was permanently
deported to Wales. Those events led to the closure of Santo Daime activi-
ties in the United States for three years. According to Jonathan Goldman,
one of the members of the church, this decision was the result of a mutual
agreement between members in the United States and Brazil. This agree-
ment emerged because, at that time, there was no Santo Daime available in
the country, and both parties did not want to risk sending or receiving new
shipments. A few years later, in 1993, Goldman asked Padrinho Alfredo—
the leader of Igreja do Culto Eclético da Fluente Luz Universal (ICEFLU),
one of the major Santo Daime branches in Brazil—for permission to bring
Santo Daime to Oregon. From 1993 to 1999, Goldman lead the Church
of the Holy Light of the Queen (CHLQ) and received shipments of Santo
Daime from Brazil without any complications with the US authorities (per-
sonal communication, Jonathan Goldman, December 9, 2016).
This changed in 1999, when a Santo Daime shipment was seized, which
sparked disputes between the federal government and CHLQ members.
On May 20, 1999, a shipment of Santo Daime from Brazil addressed to
Jonathan Goldman was intercepted by US federal agents. With the help
from the Treasury and Justice Department, the Drug Enforcement Agency
38 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-3

Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v. Mukasey 39
(DEA) obtained a search warrant for Goldman’s residence. The agents
entered his home carrying guns, searched his residence and confiscated the
Santo Daime. At the time, Goldman was arrested, and remained 12 hours
in custody until he was released on bail (United States. District Court of
Oregon, 2008, p. 8).
Shortly thereafter, the CHLQ contacted the State of Oregon’s Board of
Pharmacy (SOBP), which has jurisdiction over the matter of the distribution
of controlled substances in the state, seeking permission to perform their
ceremonies in a religious context (Haber, 2011). The SOBP held a hearing
in November 2000, and decided that the state of Oregon “does not con-
sider sacramental use of the Santo Daime tea in the Church’s religious cer-
emonies to constitute abuse of a controlled substance,” and stated that the
board, “neither possesses nor plans to exercise regulatory authority with
regard to the religious practices of the Santo Daime Church in Oregon”
(United States. District Court of Oregon, 2008, p. 9). Despite the decision
of the SOBP that, according to the principles of US federalism, would have
primary responsibility for deciding on public health issues, the federal gov-
ernment threatened to bypass the findings of the board. They declared that
the tea was not only unsafe, but also posed a threat to the country’s public
health (United States. District Court of Oregon, 2008, p. 10).
According to the church representatives, although Goldman and the rest
of the members of the church were not formally prosecuted, the institution
was notified by a former Oregon state attorney in October 2001 that “the
decision to prosecute [their] client for his conduct remains an open question
pending the decision of the United States Department of Justice regarding
[their] request for a controlled substance exemption” (United States Dis-
trict Court of Oregon, 2008, p. 8). Eight days later, the US Department
of Justice issued a statement arguing that it “believes the prohibition on
the importation, distribution, and possession of ayahuasca tea is the least
restrictive means of furthering a compelling government interest” (United
States. District Court of Oregon, 2008, p. 9).
According to Goldman, the CHLQ assumed that the government’s refusal
to reach an agreement regarding the importation of the tea put its members
under the constant threat of being arrested and prosecuted for practicing
their religion. Despite the decision to not exercise regulatory authority at
the state level, the threat of arrest by the federal agencies remained. In
light of this, the CHLQ members decided to continue to practice their cer-
emonies in secret, as they stopped keeping records of daime shipments and
church activities (United States District Court of Oregon, 2008, p. 8).
The CHLQ’s Complaint against the US Government

The attempts to reach an agreement ended in 2001. Years later, in 2008, the
CHLQ decided to file a complaint against the federal government. Accord-
ing to Goldman, that gap between the beginning of the tensions with the
40 Henrique Fernandes Antunes
government and the decision to file a complaint were due to differences of
opinion between the CHLQ and other Santo Daime churches in the United
States, and also ICEFLU’s disagreement with the decision to sue the US
government.
The lawsuit was filed by the CHLQ, which presented itself as a Christian
religion. Jonathan Goldman, the CHLQ Board, and other church members
stated that the federal government violated a number of legal principles,
depriving them of their rights, privileges, and immunities guaranteed by
law. They accused the government of violating the 1993 Religious Free-
dom Restoration Act (RFRA), which prohibits any agency, department or
official of the United States, or any state from substantially burdening a
person’s religion, even if the burden results in a rule of general applica-
tion. The only alternative for the government is to demonstrate that the
application of the burden to the person or institution promotes a compel-
ling governmental interest and is the least restrictive means of promoting
that interest.
In addition, the CHLQ stated that the government violated the rights
provided in the First, Fifth, and Fourteenth Amendments of the US Consti-
tution. Specifically, the plaintiffs attempted to obtain a court order stating
that government threats to arrest and prosecute members of Santo Daime
for importing their sacrament into the United States and consuming it in
their religious ceremonies would be unconstitutional and illegal, insofar
as they burdened the religious practice of its members. Finally, the CHLQ
sought an injunction ordering the federal government to allow the importa-
tion and consumption of Santo Daime in religious ceremonies, and to stop
threatening to arrest or prosecute church members seeking to consume the
tea in a religious context (United States District Court of Oregon, 2008,
pp. 1–2).
Following União do Vegetal’s (UDV) legal strategy, the CHLQ also
described itself as a Brazilian religion with ancestral origins linked to
Amerindian traditions, emphasizing how such traditions were incorporated
into Christian beliefs. This was, in part, due to the actions of missionaries
in the region, creating a legitimate Brazilian syncretic religion in the heart
of the Amazon. After this brief introduction on the historical context, the
complaint focused mainly on the centrality of ayahuasca to the beliefs and
practices of Santo Daime, as well as its relationship with Christianity.
According to the CHLQ, the sacrament Santo Daime is required for
church ceremonies because it is believed that, by taking the tea, a member
of the church could have a direct experience with Jesus Christ, considered
as their savior. The institution also argued that Santo Daime was not only a
vehicle for direct communion with God, but the very personification of the
Holy Spirit, as stated in the hymns of the church. According to the CHLQ,
the church doctrine that affirms Santo Daime as the presence of Christ is
taught through hymns received by their religious leaders throughout the
last century and sung during ceremonies in which the sacramental tea was
consumed. Thus, without the tea, the religion ceases to exist, considering
it is an essential element of the church’s rituals and where church members
would enact their faith, consuming Santo Daime as a form of communion
(United States District Court of Oregon, 2008, pp. 4–5).
The CHLQ also addressed the question of the plants used in the produc-
tion of the tea and its chemical composition. It was pointed out that Banis-
teriopsis caapi, one of the plants used in the making of ayahuasca, contains
three alkaloids, none of which were listed in the Controlled Substances
Act (CSA), the federal statute which regulates the manufacture, posses-
sion, importation, distribution, and use of controlled substances in the
United States. The other plant, Psychotria viridis has a small percentage of
dimethyltryptamine (DMT), considered a controlled substance. The insti-
tution highlighted that a variety of trees, shrubs, and plants found in the
American continent also contained DMT, but none of these species were
listed as controlled substances. Thus, the CHLQ recognized that DMT is
listed as a controlled substance in some chemical forms, particularly syn-
thetic forms, and that it could be considered as a substance with potential
for abuse. This was not the case with ayahuasca, which was considered by
the church a natural, organic sacrament.
In addition to discussing the chemical composition and legal framework
of ayahuasca, the church also mentioned the regulation process of aya-
huasca in Brazil as an exemplary model for public policy of the religious
use of psychoactive substances. The institution emphasized that, in the late
1980s, the Federal Council of Narcotics (CONFEN) initiated an extensive
two-year study of the religious practices of ayahuasca churches, which con-
cluded that ayahuasca should not be considered a controlled substance.
The CHLQ then focused on presenting the main arguments of UDV’s
case against the US government. The institution stressed that, according
to all courts in which the matter was examined, the government did not
demonstrate that it had a compelling interest in preventing the importa-
tion, distribution, and consumption of ayahuasca in religious ceremonies.
Thus, they failed to demonstrate that the tea was hazardous to the health
of UDV members and the general public, or that there would be a likeli-
hood of diversion to recreational use. The CHLQ argued that, likewise, the
government did not have a compelling interest in banning the importation
of Santo Daime.
In addition, the CHLQ underlined that, with regard to health and safety
issues, the government was unable to revisit these issues, since in November
2007, it admitted that it had no evidence to support its position. Further-
more, the church argued that the federal government had no additional
evidence of an intent to divert ayahuasca to illicit markets. Therefore, the
CHLQ claimed that the constant threats of persecution and seizure of
daime in the United States had the effect of violating its members’ right to
practice their religion. The institution highlighted that some of its members
had dual citizenship, having the right to practice their religion in Brazil,
but subject to arrest in the United States (United States District Court of
Oregon, 2008, pp. 17–18).
The church also claimed that the government’s actions not only violated
their fundamental rights, but were illegal acts practiced on the margins
of the law. Hence, the government’s insistence on pursuing and intimidating
the CHLQ members for practicing their religious beliefs created an abuse of
authority that did not have the support of the law. In order to reaffirm such
a position, the institution referred to the US Commission on International
Religious Freedom, established under the International Religious Freedom
Act of 1998. In the Commission’s “Year 2000” report, they recognized and
honored Brazil’s tolerance of “syncretic religions.” Santo Daime was one
of the groups recognized by the Brazilian government and by other civil
and religious institutions, such as the Brazilian Catholic Church. Based on
this position, the CHLQ reasoned that the government’s actions to arrest
and confiscate Santo Daime was not only illegal, but a particularly bla-
tant violation of the doctrine of comity—which urges states and nations to
mutually recognize their judicial, executive, and legislative acts—adopted
by both countries, in view of CONFEN’s decision to allow the religious use
of ayahuasca in Brazil in the 1980s (United States District Court of Oregon,
2008, p. 19).
Finally, the CHLQ questioned the decision to allow UDV members to
consume ayahuasca for religious purposes while the same right was denied
to members of Santo Daime. According to the church, that constituted a
violation of the rights of equal protection guaranteed by the Fourteenth
Amendment of the Constitution of the United States. Thus, the institu-
tion argued that the balance of damages weighed in favor of the CHLQ,
and that the government did not have an adequate remedy in law regard-
ing their case. The church representatives argued that its members would
continue to suffer irreparable damages and losses unless the court pre-
vented the government from taking any further action against the group.
Consequently, the church members filed a request for a preliminary injunc-
tion against the US government to ensure that their rights were not violated
again. In addition to the injunction, the institution also requested a per-
manent injunction prohibiting the government from detaining, judging, or
threatening to arrest members of the CHLQ for importing or consuming
their sacrament (United States District Court of Oregon, 2008, pp. 20–25).
The Decision from the US District Court for the District

of Oregon
In March 2009, the US District Court for the District of Oregon issued its
decision. One of the first topics addressed by the court was the credibility
of the testimony of Jonathan Goldman, presented as the spiritual leader of
the church, or “padrinho,” highlighting that he has been going to Brazil to
participate in and study Santo Daime ceremonies. Judge Panner stressed that
Goldman learned Portuguese in order to receive instructions from leaders
and to understand the hymns of Santo Daime, which constitute the doctrine
of the church. The judge also pointed out that Goldman had been part of
Santo Daime for nearly 20 years, founding the CHLQ in 1993, with author-
ization from one of the main branches of Santo Daime in Brazil, ICEFLU.
Finally, the judge emphasized Goldman’s conduct over the years, claiming
that he had demonstrated his sincerity and dedication to Santo Daime and its
members (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 1–2).
In addition to briefly highlighting the trajectory of the CHLQ leader,
the court mentioned the history of Santo Daime in Brazil. Panner based
his argument on the categorization of Santo Daime as a syncretic religion
that combines elements of folk Catholicism with indigenous beliefs of the
Amazon region and African-Brazilian traditions. The same argument is
recurrent in the anthropological literature on ayahuasca in Brazil, and was
incorporated into public policies on the religious use of ayahuasca (Labate &
Araújo, 2002; Goulart, 2004, 2008; MacRae, 2008). Thus, Panner stressed
that Santo Daime has its origins in the jungles and rainforests of South
America, where, for many centuries, the indigenous tribes of the Amazon
manufactured a psychoactive tea from a vine that they used as medicine
and in religious rituals. Panner pointed out that the vine and the tea made
from it were called “ayahuasca,” meaning “vine of souls” or “vine of the
dead.” As the name implies, it is believed that ayahuasca has the power to
allow communication with the spiritual world.
The judge noted that, according to the Santo Daime tradition, the founder
of the religion, an African-Brazilian man named Raimundo Irineu Serra
(later known as Mestre Irineu), worked as a rubber tapper in the remote
Amazon region of northern Brazil, where he met a shaman who taught
him about ayahuasca. Panner briefly detailed some of the stories about the
origins of Santo Daime, when Mestre Irineu had his vision of a woman who
was called the Queen of the Forest (Rainha da Floresta), who would later
be identified as the Virgin Mary. He was then given instructions to start a
new religion using ayahuasca as a sacrament, and was told that ayahuasca
should be called “Daime” (Give me), as in a prayer, “give me light, give me
strength, give me wisdom.” It was also noted that the followers of Santo
Daime considered the tea as being the blood of Christ, analogous to wine in
Catholic communion. The tea itself was considered a sacred being of great
power. Hence, a church like the CHLQ could not endure without drinking
the tea (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 3–4).
Ultimately, Panner concluded his argument on the history of Santo Daime
by presenting a brief background of the regulation process in Brazil. He
noted that the Brazilian government recognized the institution as a legiti-
mate religion, and allowed the sacramental use of the tea. The judge also
highlighted Santo Daime’s friendly relationship with other religions, espe-
cially the Catholic Church in Brazil, which considers it a legitimate religion
and treats it as a full-fledged partner on humanitarian and environmental
issues. In addition, the judge mentioned UDV’s status, which is also rec-
ognized by the Brazilian government as a syncretic religion that uses aya-
huasca as a sacrament in its religious ceremonies, although it differs from
the Santo Daime in doctrinal matters and its practices (United States Dis-
trict Court of Oregon, 2009, p. 5).
In addition to the historical background of Santo Daime and the aya-
huasca regulation process in Brazil, the decision also focused on health
issues regarding ayahuasca consumption. According to Panner, both parties
discussed the extent of the danger represented by the consumption of Santo
Daime during church ceremonies. For the judge, there was no doubt that
the tea could be dangerous if used improperly. Nevertheless, according to
information included in the testimony of Jimmy Gurulé—an ex-federal and
state prosecutor in drug trafficking cases and a professor in the field of crim-
inal law—presented by CHLQ as an expert on the issue of narcotics traf-
ficking, Panner highlighted that Church members usually consume a small
dose of ayahuasca (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009, p. 8).
Moreover, the judge emphasized excerpts from Goldman’s testimony in
which he stated that, in all his years with the CHLQ, he did not observe
any case in which someone had suffered a serious physical or mental harm
as a result of the consumption of Santo Daime. Also, no apparent harmful
effects were found in Brazilians who regularly consumed tea during reli-
gious services for more than 30 years. In addition, Panner argued that a
number of experts presented by CHLQ suggested that the tea could have
benefits for the physical and mental health of church members, although
they warned that more extensive and stricter scientific studies were neces-
sary to confirm possible health benefits.
Furthermore, the court pointed out that the government did not pro-
vide evidence that ayahuasca was addictive or that it could cause long-term
health problems. Regarding this matter, the judge referred to the testimony
of two government experts in neurosciences and pharmacology, Franken-
heim and Tella, that were based on studies on LSD and DMT in its pure
state. In Panner’s view, studies concerning the intravenous use of LSD and
DMT in their pure form were only marginally relevant in assessing the risks
of Santo Daime consumption in religious ceremonies (United States District
Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 9–10).
The court cited a study by psychiatrist John H. Halpern that was
endorsed by the CHLQ members. Judge Panner emphasized that Halpern
wrote extensively about the consumption and abuse of hallucinogenic
drugs, including research on the health of members of the Native American
Church (NAC) who use peyote as a sacrament (Halpern et al., 2005). Panner
highlighted Halpern’s report on the CHLQ, published in August 2008,
as the only study conducted among members of Santo Daime in the
United States (Halpern et al., 2008). While stressing that Halpern recog-
nized the limitations of the study, Panner found the research relevant and
useful in assessing the health risks of Santo Daime among the CHLQ
members. According to Panner, the results presented by Halpern were sim-
ilar to research conducted in the late 1990s on Santo Daime and the UDV
(Callaway et al., 1999) that concluded that members of these religions usu-
ally lost interest in the use of alcohol, cocaine, and other addictive psychoac-
tive substances (United States. District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 10–11).
The court also mentioned the testimony of George Gerding, one of the
experts presented by the CHLQ, who stated that the set (the intent of the
user and their expectations) and the setting (the environment in which
the substance is consumed) are important in determining the effects of a
drug on the individual. In light of this, Panner argued that the set of mem-
bers and the setting presented in the CHLQ ceremonies would be able to
reduce the potential danger posed by the tea (United States District Court
of Oregon, 2009, p. 12).
Another point raised by Panner concerns the prohibition of proselytism
by the Santo Daime churches, especially regarding the screening of new
members. The judge emphasized that new members generally hear about
the church from friends or relatives, and that candidates generally must
have a member of the church as their sponsor. Panner noted Goldman’s
argument that Santo Daime is a hard spiritual path that is not suitable for
most people. Thus, in its screening process, the CHLQ attempts to select
only those participants who have a serious attitude of respect toward the
church, seeking to exclude candidates with the profile of recreational users
(United States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 12–13).
The court also argued that Santo Daime’s consumption is restricted to
rituals, so that the CHLQ members only ingest the drink by participating
in a controlled religious ceremony. On the other hand, the consumption of
Santo Daime outside the church environment is considered a sacrilege. Pan-
ner reasoned that members are barred from leaving the ceremony before it
is concluded, and that the church selects experienced members to monitor
the group during rituals, who may suffer from nausea, diarrhea, or other
discomforts, with special attention to newcomers (United States District
Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 14–15).
Regarding the participation of children in rituals, Panner argued that
CHLQ members have allowed them to consume a negligible amount tea
only on rare occasions. According to the court, there is no evidence that
CHLQ would allow children to consume enough to experience psychoac-
tive effects. The court also addressed the issue of Santo Daime consumption
by pregnant women. In this context, the government raised the possibility
that a fetus could be impaired if a pregnant woman ingested the drink.
However, the court ruled that the government did not provide any evidence
that any pregnant women had consumed the tea, or that any harm would
have occurred to the fetus (United States. District Court of Oregon, 2009,
p. 15) (Panner referred to the research by McKenna et al., 1998).
Concerning the matter of diversion for recreational use, the govern-
ment raised the possibility that the CHLQ would allow the consumption
of Santo Daime for persons seeking recreational use only. To counter this
argument, the government presented the testimony of the Deputy Director
of the DEA, Denise Curry. Curry stated that the amount of tea confis-
cated at Goldman’s residence in 1999 indicated that CHLQ had more than
its members needed. However, the court pointed out that the government
did not provide any evidence that the CHLQ had allowed the tea to be
consumed without church authorization. Judge Panner also indicated that
the government did not provide any evidence of a viable market for Santo
Daime, highlighting also that DMT is not a commonly abused drug (United
States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 16–17).
After examining health issues and the possibility of diversion for recrea-
tional use, the court issued its decision, arguing that the government failed
to provide concrete evidence in both matters. In its final conclusion, the
court pointed out that RFRA prohibited the federal government from bur-
dening the exercise of a person’s religion even if the burden resulted from
a rule of general applicability. Judge Panner pointed out that the Ninth
Circuit Court asserted that, to establish a claim based on the RFRA, suf-
ficient evidence must be presented to allow a judge to find the existence
of two elements. First, the practices upon which the governmental bur-
den applies should be characterized as an “exercise of religion.” Second,
government action should substantially burden the exercise of the reli-
gion of the group or person claiming the application of RFRA. If these
criteria are met, the burden would then shift to the government, which
would have to prove that the challenged government action was established
in accordance with a compelling government interest and implemented
through the least restrictive means possible. If the government did not com-
ply with such requirements, the court should establish that there was, in
fact, a violation of RFRA (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009,
pp. 17–18).
In the view of the court, the CHLQ was successful in substantiating their
claim that they were sincere in their religious beliefs and that the ceremo-
nial use of Santo Daime was essential to their religion. In light of this,
Panner argued that it was obvious that prohibiting the use of the tea would
constitute a substantial burden for the exercise of the CHLQ members’ reli-
gion. Thus, the court accepted the premise of the CHLQ’s sincere exercise
of religion, shifting the burden of proof to the government (United States
District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 18–19).
In that regard, Panner concluded that the government did not demon-
strate that it had a compelling interest that justified the prohibition of Santo
Daime. Overall, Panner argued that the government had a vested interest
in regulating any drug included in the Schedule I list of the Controlled
Substances Act, such as DMT, and that there was no doubt that ayahuasca
could be dangerous if misused. However, the RFRA required a more spe-
cific investigation into the government’s interests. In the case of the CHLQ,
the court concluded that there was enough evidence indicating that tea
would be consumed only in a ritual context by church members (United
States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 19–20).
The court also rejected the argument that the government had a compel-
ling interest in maintaining the integrity of the DEA’s administrative pro-
cess by refusing to approve religious exemptions under the CSA. According
to Panner, the Supreme Court set a precedent for the UDV, stating that
the RFRA clearly establishes that courts could recognize exceptions to
the procedures of the law (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009,
pp. 20–21).
Ultimately, the court concluded that the government did not demonstrate
that the prohibition of Santo Daime would be the least restrictive means of
promoting its interests. The court also pointed out that the State of Oregon
considered the sacramental use of Santo Daime by the CHLQ in religious
ceremonies as a practice that would not be subject to regulation. Addition-
ally, Panner stressed that the Native American Church’s use of peyote in
religious ceremonies set a precedent for the religious use of Santo Daime.
Hence, the court decided to grant an injunction exempting the CHLQ from
the application of the Controlled Substances Act for the religious use of
Santo Daime (United States District Court of Oregon, 2009, pp. 21–22).
Thus, Judge Panner ruled that the “defendants are barred from pro-
hibiting the importation, storage, distribution, and use of Daime tea by
plaintiffs for religious ceremonies” (United States District Court of Ore-
gon, 2012b). The court decided to issue an Amended Judgment, intended
to enable the parties to agree on procedures for the importation, storage,
distribution, and use of the Santo Daime for the CHLQ ceremonies (United
States District Court of Oregon, 2012a). To date, no formal agreement has
been established between the DEA and CHLQ on the regulation of the reli-
gious use of the Santo Daime, and the institution is operating without any
type of contract or document regulating the relations between the parties.
The Regulation of Ayahuasca in the State of Oregon and

the Relationship between Government and the CHLQ
In the case of the CHLQ, as well as in the UDV case, the government focused
on the possible health risks presented by ayahuasca, the potential for diver-
sion to recreational use, and it argued that the possibility of exemptions
would jeopardize the capacity of its agencies to implement health policies.
The federal government also claimed that the exemption would jeopardize
its leading role in the War on Drugs regarding other nations. The court
agreed with the government that ayahuasca should be considered a con-
trolled substance. However, despite the position of the court, the CHLQ
was successful in following the UDV’s legal strategy based on the RFRA.
Nonetheless, some differences emerged between UDV’s and CHLQ’s
legal disputes, both in their development and in their outcome. This was,
in part, due to the initiatives and new strategies of the government, and
partly to the particularities of these ayahuasca churches. Regarding the
CHLQ, the government took a different strategy than the UDV case, ques-
tioning the sincerity of the exercise of the religion of the church members.
It seems that the change in strategy was due to the fact that, according to
RFRA, the recognition of the sincere exercise of religion shifts the burden
of proof to the government, which has to prove that the measures taken
are not only necessary but also the less restrictive means of dealing with
the issue at hand. Since the government was defeated earlier, as it failed to
substantiate its arguments in accordance with the requirements of RFRA
in the UDV case, the non-recognition of the CHLQ members’ sincere exer-
cise of religion indicated a more conservative stance and a shift in legal
strategy. Nonetheless, the district court recognized the CHLQ’s practices
as a sincere exercise of religion, based particularly on Jonathan Goldman’s
deposition and also on the categorization, broadly diffused in the academic
literature, of Santo Daime as a syncretic religion that includes elements of
folk Catholicism, indigenous practices of the Amazon region, and African
traditions, among other cultural references.
It should be noted that both the UDV and the CHLQ had their ship-
ments seized in the same period. However, while the UDV quickly mobi-
lized to prosecute the government, the CHLQ had to become independent
from other Santo Daime churches in the United States and the main church
in Brazil, ICEFLU, in order to file the lawsuit against the federal govern-
ment. The difficulty in establishing a consensus within the institution has
to do mainly with the diversification and particularities of the trajectory of
Santo Daime expansion undertaken by ICEFLU. Unlike UDV, one of the
main characteristics of ICEFLU, described in the academic literature, is
its openness and adaptability to new cultural contexts; one of the factors
responsible for promoting the worldwide expansion of the institution. At
the same time, this approach created limitations for its regulatory power
and in its ability to establish unilateral strategies for the administration of
affiliated centers (Labate & Assis, 2016). Another strategy divergence that
seems to confirm such hypotheses is that the UDV established an agreement
with the DEA to regulate the importation, distribution, and consumption
of ayahuasca, while the CHLQ refused to make any type of agreement or
contract with the federal agency.
Despite the differences, as well as the changes in strategies presented
by the government in the cases of UDV and the CHLQ, the outcome of
both disputes was based on the same principles. The courts considered
ayahuasca a controlled substance, but one which was liable to obtain an
exemption for religious use in the application of the CSA. As in the case of
the UDV, no consensus was ever reached on the arguments and positions of
the federal government agencies and the CHLQ. Throughout the unfolding
of legal disputes, the government insisted on defending ayahuasca’s classifi-
cation as a controlled substance that posed serious health risks to its users,
and claimed that both groups did not have the right to claim an exemption
for religious use. On the other hand, both the UDV and the CHLQ insisted
that the drink was a sacrament whose health risks were negligible since its
consumption was carried out in a controlled religious ceremonial environ-
ment. Accordingly, the institutions in question maintained that ayahuasca
should not be classified under the rubric of “controlled substances,” that
the government’s actions lacked legitimacy, and that it did not possess the
adequate legal mechanisms to properly regulate their practices.
While admitting that the tea was, in fact, a controlled substance, the
preeminence of the Religious Freedom Restoration Act over the Controlled
Substances Act was maintained in both legal disputes. Thus, the federal
government was obliged to demonstrate that the prohibition of ayahuasca
served as a compelling interest, not only by being necessary, but also as the
least restrictive means of dealing with the issue of the religious use of aya-
huasca in the country. The outcome of the dispute between the CHLQ and
the US government, and the case of the UDV, relates to the balance of rights
in which, on the one hand, there was the burden imposed by the government
on the freedom of religion of the CHLQ and its members and, on the other
hand, the potential dangers and risks that the use of ayahuasca presented to
the government, as well as to its users. In these disputes, categories and ter-
minologies were put into motion and operated in different ways by experts
from both sides, upholding different strategies and legal conceptions about
the preeminence and applicability of certain laws to the detriment of others.
In a broader perspective, the cases revolved around a central question:
What is the scope and, in contrast, the limits of the state, in imposing regu-
lations that interfere with the fundamental rights of its citizens; in this case,
their religious freedom? The point here is not to make a final statement on
such a complex matter. Nevertheless, the outcome of these cases seems to
confirm the hypothesis that, in the case of the United States, the Religious
Freedom Restoration Act enjoys preeminence over certain other statutes of
the country, thus indicating the importance that the right of religious free-
dom possesses within this legal system.
Note
1 This work in is the result of a research sponsored by São Paulo Research Foun-
dation (FAPESP), Grant number 2013/24663-9.
References
Callaway, J. C., McKenna, D. J., Grob, C. S., Brito, G. S., Raymon, L. P., Poland,
R. E., Andrade, E. N., Andrade, E. O., & Mash, D. C. (1999). Pharmacokinetics
of Hoasca alkaloids in healthy humans. Journal of Ethnopharmacology, 65(3),
243–256.
Goulart, S. L. (2004). Contrastes e continuidades em uma tradição amazônica: as
religiões da ayahuasca [Contrasts and continuities in an Amazonian tradition:
The ayahuasca religions] (Doctoral dissertation). Unicamp, Brazil.
Goulart, S. L. (2008). Estigmas de grupos ayahuasqueiros [Stigmas of ayahuasca
groups]. In B. C. Labate (Ed.), Drogas e cultura: novas perspectivas [Drugs and
culture: New perspectives] (pp. 251–288). EDUFBA.
Haber, R. (2011). The Santo Daime road to seeking religious freedom in the USA.
In B. C. Labate & H. Jungaberle (Eds.), The internationalization of ayahuasca
(pp. 301–318). Lit Verlag.
Halpern, J. H., Sherwood, A. R., Hudson, J. I., Yurgelun-Todd, D., & Pope, H.
G., Jr. (2005). Psychological and cognitive effects of long-term peyote use among
Native Americans. Biological Psychiatry, 58(8), 624–631.
Halpern J. H., Sherwood A. R., Passie T., Blackwell K. C., Ruttenber A. J. (2008).
Evidence of health and safety in American members of a religion who use a hal-
lucinogenic sacrament. Medical Science Monitor, 14(8), 15–22.
Labate, B. C., & Araújo, W. S. (Eds.). (2002). O uso ritual da ayahuasca [The
ritual use of ayahuasca]. FAPESP/Mercado das Letras.
Labate, B. C., & Assis, G. L. (2016). The religion of the forest: Reflections on
the international expansion of a Brazilian ayahuasca religion. In B. C. Labate,
C. Cavnar, & A. K. Gearin (Eds.), The world ayahuasca diaspora: Reinventions
and controversies (pp. 57–77). Routledge.
MacRae, E. (2008). A elaboração das políticas públicas brasileiras em relação ao
uso da ayahuasca [The elaboration of Brazilian public policies regarding the use
of ayahuasca]. In B. C. Labate (Ed.), Drogas e cultura: novas perspectivas [Drugs
and culture: New perspectives] (pp. 289–314). EDUFBA.
McKenna, D. J., Callaway, J. C., & Grob, C. S. (1998). The scientific investigation
of Ayahuasca: A review of past and current research. The Heffter Review of
Psychedelic Research, 1, 65–77.
United States. District Court of New Mexico. (2002). O Centro Espírita Beneficente
União do Vegetal v. Ashcroft. http://www.bialabate.net/pdf/udv_usa/88%208.
12.01%20memorandum.pdf
United States. District Court of Oregon. (2008). The church of the holy light of
the queen complaint. https://www.courtlistener.com/opinion/2482682/church-
of-the-holy-light-of-the-queen-v-mukasey/
United States. District Court of Oregon. (2009). The church of the holy light of
the queen complaint v. Mukasey et al. http://bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/
2009/04/3–90508-memo-and-motion-restraining-order-prelim-injunction.pdf
United States. District Court of Oregon. (2012a). The church of the holy light of the
queen complaint v. Holder et al., order. http://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/
uploads/2009/04/164–32709-amended-judgment.pdf
United States. District Court of Oregon. (2012b). The church of the holy light of
the queen complaint v. Holder et al., Second amended judgment. DEAD LINK
http://www.bialabate.net/wcontent/uploads/2009/04/Santo_Daime_Oregon_
Panner_Order_Enjoining_Jan_6_2012.pdf
3 Intersecting Cultures
Exploring Ayahuasca’s Legal
and Ethical Journey in Canada
Emma Garrod and Katrina Blommaert
Ayahuasca has experienced a meandering legal and ethical journey in

Canada. Globalization has brought ayahuasca to this country and many
are keenly interested in the profound health and spiritual benefits of this
medicine. However, the legal status of ayahuasca in Canada creates barri-
ers for those who may seek it out. Currently, the possession, sale, and use
of ayahuasca in Canada are criminalized, save for exemptions from the
Office of Controlled Substances (OCS) obtained by six established churches
in Toronto, Montreal, and Winnipeg, making allowances to legally import
and use ayahuasca in spiritual rituals. This is the first known case in which
exemptions were provided for “public interest,” as opposed to medical or
scientific rationales.
This chapter will explore the legal journey ayahuasca has taken, includ-
ing the specific regulations proposed by the Canadian government to the
Céu do Montréal (CdM) church. It will also discuss the implications of
criminalization, and resulting lack of regulation, of ayahuasca in Can-
ada, including restrictions on medical and scientific applications. Because
of these current restrictions, many Canadians who aren’t members of the
exempted churches travel to Peru and other countries in South and Central
America where ayahuasca ceremonies are held more openly. The implica-
tions of this type of tourism and the use of ayahuasca in Canada, a place
far removed from endemic regions, belong in this discussion. Finally, the
current drug policy landscape in Canada and potential directions for the
regulation of ayahuasca will be examined.
In Canada, the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act (CDSA) legislates
control of certain drugs, their precursors, and other substances, and the
Food and Drug Regulations pertain to both food and drugs. Both are admin-
istered by Health Canada, the federal department responsible for national
public health. In the CDSA, N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT), harmalol,
and harmaline, active chemical components in ayahuasca, are classified as
Schedule III drugs, alongside other psychedelics such as LSD and psilo-
cybin (Department of Justice Canada, 2019). Interestingly, harmine and
tetrahydroharmine, analogs of harmaline found in much greater quantities
in ayahuasca, are not scheduled (Tupper, 2011). Plants containing these
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-4 51
52 Emma Garrod and Katrina Blommaert
chemicals commonly used to create the ayahuasca brew, Psychotria viridis
and Banisteriopsis caapi, are not explicitly named in the legislation, but the
CDSA states that “for the purposes of this Act, a reference to a controlled
substance includes a reference to any substance that contains a controlled
substance,” and Health Canada has stated that “the plant itself would
be controlled and is therefore illegal” (Canadian Broadcasting Company
[CBC], 2018). This differs from peyote (Lophophora williamsii), which the
CDSA explicitly exempts from control, despite the fact that “mescaline and
any salt thereof” is listed as Schedule III (Department of Justice Canada,
2019). Conviction of possession of a Schedule III substance without a pre-
scription can result in a maximum three-year sentence, and trafficking con-
victions can result in a sentence of up to ten years. Harmalol, harmaline,
and DMT are also listed as restricted drugs under Part J of the Food and
Drug Regulations (Health Canada, 2022a). However, this legislation does
not determine that controlled substances may never be used, and exemp-
tions can be sought under Section 56 of the CDSA. Section 56 outlines that:
The Minister may, on any terms and conditions that the Minister con-
siders necessary, exempt from the application of all or any of the pro-
visions of this Act or the regulations any person or class of persons or
any controlled substance or precursor or any class of either of them if,
in the opinion of the Minister, the exemption is necessary for a medical
or scientific purpose or is otherwise in the public interest.
(Department of Justice Canada, 2018)
Exemptions have been granted for the purposes of supervised drug con-
sumption as a harm reduction initiative (Department of Justice Canada,
2018), or for investigation in clinical research, for example MDMA-
assisted psychotherapy for PTSD or heroin-assisted treatment for opioid
use disorder.
Despite this clearly written legislation, legal ambiguity has lingered, and
plant materials are available for purchase, often labeled “not for human
consumption.” This gray area presents a loophole in which individuals have
the option of buying B. caapi and P. viridis separately, and creating the aya-
huasca brew themselves. These ingredients can be sourced either through
online or in herbal shops in most major Canadian cities, and websites such
as Amazon and Etsy offer seeds of both species for sale. Due to the crimi-
nalization of DMT, harmalol, and harmaline in Canada as described above,
there is no way of verifying quality or purity of what is being consumed,
and often admixtures of the brew are consumed. Online retailers provide
varying amounts of information about the sources of the plant materials,
but most have an explicit disclaimer that they are not for human consump-
tion, but rather intended for incense, soap-making, or decorative purposes.
Health Canada has stated that “substances listed in Part J of the Food
and Drug Regulations are substances that are considered to have no medical
Intersecting Cultures 53
benefit” (CBC, 2018), but it is well documented that ayahuasca has been
used for healing and spiritual benefits since pre-Columbian times (Tupper,
2006). More recently, researchers have begun investigating these benefits,
finding improvements in levels of depression, anxiety, problematic sub-
stance use, and an increase in hopefulness (Domínguez-Clavé et al., 2016).
It has also captured the interest of many Canadians, who have sought out
ceremonies at home and abroad. Canadians may seek out ayahuasca cere-
monies for healing of chronic conditions, addictive disorders, depression,
post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, spiritual development, and personal
growth (On Drugs, 2018; Maté, 2018). These individuals are often seeking
something not currently offered in Canadian culture or poorly addressed
by Western medical approaches.
There is a vibrant and widespread ayahuasca community in Canada,
though centers and practitioners working with ayahuasca are typically
wary of sharing information publicly for fear of retribution. Informal
review forums online provide the basis for sharing information about the
effectiveness and legitimacy of ayahuasca centers in Canada. The infor-
mation shared often judges the lineage and background of those holding
ceremonies, their business model and intentions for conducting ceremonies,
and commitment to support the local and endemic communities.
Individuals who conduct ceremonies in Canada have a variety of training
backgrounds and licensing, and may have gone through an apprenticeship.
The range of ceremony leaders’ experience is large; as noted by Ariel Levy
(2016) in her piece for The New Yorker Magazine:
Most people who take ayahuasca in the United States do so in small

“ceremonies,” led by an individual who may call [themselves] a sha-
man, an ayahuasquero, a curandero, a vegetalista, or just a healer. This
person may have come from generations of Shipibo or Quechua sha-
mans in Peru, or [they] may just be someone with access to ayahuasca.
The same holds true for ceremonies in Canada; the criminalization of aya-
huasca undermines control or quality assurance for the plant materials
used and the training of the practitioner. Despite the existence of many
well-intentioned and trained facilitators, this poses many questions about
the variability in training, safety of participants, cultural appropriation,
and ecological issues. There are many centers that advertise immersive
trainings in South American countries; these trainings can be anywhere
from a weekend to a few years in length, with costs ranging from a few hun-
dred to thousands of dollars, and are accessible to Canadians. Individuals
who had a powerful experience with ayahuasca abroad may also stay on or
return to provide services in the center they attended, and may eventually
be initiated as facilitators and bring these practices back to Canada. Practi-
tioners from South or Central America are also brought to Canada to lead
ceremonies.
Many Canadians have safe and profound healing experiences in cere-
monies at home, yet the criminalization of ayahuasca and resulting lack
of regulation also may present safety issues. Often, ceremonies are out-
side of cities in rural areas or on islands, and not proximal to emergency
health centers. Further, there is no guarantee that those holding ceremonies
conduct appropriate screening or have adequately prepared for potentially
dangerous medical situations or mentally difficult experiences. When an
activity has illegal components, it can be difficult for individuals to speak up
and pursue legal action if violations occur. Unfortunately, reports of abuses
endured in the ayahuasca community have been growing (Monroe, 2017).
There have also been allegations of abuse within ceremonies in Canada,
notably the reported incidences of sexual abuse by Guillermo Arevalo, a
Peruvian shaman who was regularly brought to Canada to hold ceremonies
(Oak, 2014; Maybin & Casserly, 2020). It should be emphasized that these
instances reflect abuses of power, which regrettably are seen across many
arenas that involve relationship dynamics of trust and power. This is not
unique to communities that consume ayahuasca, and one cannot assume
that the regulation of ayahuasca alone can address these systemic issues;
however, an above-ground practice could bring professional accountability
to the forefront.
Many Canadians who want to attend ayahuasca ceremonies, but are
limited by the legal status of ayahuasca in Canada, opt to visit ayahuasca
centers abroad, typically in South America. There are many centers, some
owned by Canadians, advertising retreats online. This approach effectively
circumvents the legality issue while still catering to the Canadian popula-
tion as a form of medical or spiritual tourism. Countless individuals have
had life-changing and healing experiences in these settings, and this form
of tourism has grown substantially (Homan, 2011). However, this raises
questions about the impact on the traditional cultures hosting ceremo-
nies, and on the safety of those involved. Unfortunately, there have been
reported incidences of fatal violence involving Canadians. One example
is the case of Sebastian Woodruff, a Canadian man whose travels to Peru
to seek healing disturbingly led to his alleged killing of Shipibo-Conibo
indigenous healer Olivia Arevalo Lomas, under whom he was studying at
the Temple of the Way of Light. Later, Woodruff was killed by a group
of local community members, allegedly in response to her death (CBC,
2018; Proctor, 2018). Others have become implicated in violence as retreat
attendees. Joshua Stevens is a Canadian who, in an act of self-defense,
stabbed and killed Unais Gomes; a fellow retreat attendee and someone
who Stevens reported becoming friends with during their time in Peru. The
two men were attending the Australian-owned Phoenix Ayahuasca retreat,
and reportedly Gomes had consumed ayahuasca prior to attacking Stevens,
leading to Stevens’ lethal act of self-defense (Grierson & Siddique, 2016).
These cases highlight safety issues that can arise from lack of screening for
individuals participating in ceremony, or cross-cultural clashes in charged
circumstances. These are extreme cases, but for some seekers, the isolation,
sensitive mental and emotional states, and lack of resources and support
can lead to precarious situations. This can partly be considered an indirect
consequence of the criminalization of ayahuasca in Canada, as individuals
travel to seek healing experiences unavailable in Canada. While there cer-
tainly may be financial gains for the communities these ceremonies take
place in, these cases highlight potential harms and vulnerabilities.
In recent years, ayahuasca integration clinics have been established across
Canada in response to the pattern of Canadians traveling abroad to partake
in ayahuasca ceremonies and experiencing significant self-reported insight
and growth, only to then return home and lose the threads of their experi-
ence. Tanya Kammonen, a naturopathic doctor who underwent an appren-
ticeship under Dr. Gabor Maté exploring ayahuasca integration, describes
the process as “a plant-assisted process of self-mastery” (On Drugs, 2018)
in which the individual brings what they’ve learned in the ayahuasca cer-
emony into normal life, thereby attempting to integrate the experience in
a meaningful and lasting way. While this can improve the psychological
safety of the participant, there are criticisms of this pattern of ayahuasca
consumption as a colonial practice in which individuals, acting out of their
own self-interest for healing and personal growth, consume ayahuasca
as a form of spiritual tourism, with little consideration of the impact of
their actions on the communities, culture, people, and environment from
which ayahuasca comes (Amor, 2018). Canadians ought to be attentive to
how they may be replicating colonialist practices when consuming aya-
huasca abroad and seek to interact with communities in an ethical and
sustainable way.
This leads to the broader discussion of the cultural appropriation of
ayahuasca: taking the plants and practices, songs, and rituals that accom-
pany ceremonies out of one culture and using them in an entirely differ-
ent setting. These cultural transfers have varied from respectful borrowing
to overt cultural theft (Tupper, 2009) when offered in settings outside the
Amazon, including Canada. Further, the marketplace for spiritual experi-
ences is unregulated (Amor, 2018), and creates a situation of varied prac-
tices with a large audience of seekers.
What can also be missing from this dialogue is any sort of reliable infor-
mation on where ayahuasca is sourced for consumption in underground
ceremonies in Canada, and how its use impacts the communities and envi-
ronment from which it is taken. In contrast, the first Canadian Santo Daime
religious group to receive an exemption for ritual use, the CdM, sources
their ayahuasca from a government-registered independent Brazilian Santo
Daime church, and the plants used in these preparations are sustainably
cultivated, rather than harvested from wild sources (CdM, personal com-
munication, August 14, 2018).
The issue of cultural appropriation of ayahuasca in Canada is exacer-
bated in the context of ongoing colonization and marginalization of Cana-
dian indigenous communities. Meaningful reconciliation is urgently needed
to address the historic and ongoing traumas of colonization, and resulting
health, social, and environmental inequities in indigenous communities.
A starting place may be to align with the principles of Ownership, Con-
trol, Access, and Possession (OCAP), which were established by the First
Nations Information Governance Centre as a way of defining the ethical
relationship between indigenous communities and their ties to their cul-
tural knowledge, data, and information (First Nations Information Gov-
ernance Centre, 2018). The illegality of ayahuasca means it is difficult to
verify the information on where ayahuasca is sourced, how it is imported,
whether it was done in a fair-trade manner, how the community it was
taken from was impacted by this, whether the community it was taken from
had any say in its procurement, and if the community was able to partici-
pate with any power in the process (Arnstein, 1969). Indeed, the potential
financial gains are typically not equally distributed between all parties, and
often are gained by those doing the appropriating (Tupper, 2009). As was
noted by the Indigenous Acrean Peoples in their open letter at the World
Ayahuasca Conference in 2016, participation does not equal power, and
clear recommendations to shift some meaningful power, control, and auton-
omy over ayahuasca procurement, consumption, and decision-making to
indigenous communities were made (World Ayahuasca Conference, 2016).
Recommendations from the Brazilian 2010 Resolution of ethical principles
of ayahuasca use, specifically, those pertaining to harvesting of ayahuasca,
and more environmentally sustainable options for obtaining ayahuasca, are
also important to consider (Labate & Feeney, 2012).
As discussed above, there are many considerations and concerns with the
use of ayahuasca in Canada but, for the most part, ceremonies have been
conducted peacefully and below the legal radar. However, the interactions
between these underground practices and regulatory authorities became
national news in 2011. Dr. Gabor Maté, perhaps the most widely known
underground practitioner, was warned by Health Canada in November
2011 to cease practicing with ayahuasca, or face legal repercussions (Pos-
ner, 2011). Dr. Maté is a retired family physician whose work for many
years has focused on the mind-body connection and linkages between
stress and illness. He had been using ayahuasca to treat illnesses such as
addiction, mental health, and other difficult to treat chronic conditions,
such as autoimmune disorders. Acknowledging that Western medicine is
often unable to assist individuals with chronic conditions, he cites stories in
which he has seen individuals immobilized by auto-immune diseases return
to functional and independent living (Maté, 2015). He had administered
the medicine to about 200 patients in the years prior to 2011, and his work
was featured in a documentary entitled “The Jungle Prescription” which
was prepared for The Nature of Things with David Suzuki, a long-running
mainstream television series in Canada. His notoriety has both garnered
the attention that led to this warning and has brought the conversation
about the use of this medicine in Canada into the spotlight. Mere days
before the documentary was to air, Health Canada sent a letter to Dr. Maté
stating they had received information that he may have been conducting
a clinical trial using ayahuasca to treat addiction, advising him that these
activities were prohibited without an exemption obtained from the Office of
Controlled Substances (OCS) and providing information on how to obtain
this permission (Beaulieu, 2011). He agreed to stop using the medicine, but
hoped to get permission to use it in a therapeutic context (Posner, 2011).
Due to the illegality of the components of ayahuasca, there are immense
barriers to formal investigations into the safety and efficacy of this medi-
cine in treating the various afflictions it has been reported to heal. Research
on a controlled substances in Canada is fettered by financial and institu-
tional barriers, including proper academic affiliations, federal licenses and
temporary exemptions, and ethics board approvals. Yet, the recent renais-
sance of psychedelic research in Canada, including the investigation of
MDMA-assisted psychotherapy as a novel treatment option for individuals
with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), holds promise for the expan-
sion of psychedelic research using controlled substances (Yazar-Klosinski
& Mithoefer, 2017). Recently completed phase 3 studies investigating
MDMA-assisted therapy as a treatment for PTSD found that MDMA-
assisted psychotherapy significantly reduced PTSD symptoms and func-
tional impairment for individuals with severe PTSD (Mitchell et al., 2021).
Further, psilocybin-assisted therapy is being investigated globally for vari-
ous mental health afflictions, and has been found to be safe and efficacious
for individuals with anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder,
and tobacco and alcohol use disorders (Moreno et al., 2006; Grob et al.,
2011; Johnson et al., 2014; Romeo et al., 2020; Carhart-Harris et al., 2021;
Leger et al., 2021). This has sparked immense interest in potential posi-
tive impacts of psychedelic-assisted research in Canada, with many trials
underway.
Research on the use of ayahuasca for addiction and stress was being
conducted in Canada in the time period when Maté was reprimanded by
Health Canada. Researcher Gerald Thomas and his team were invited by
an indigenous community to conduct an observational study of ayahuasca-
assisted treatment for problematic substance use and stress in 2011. Two
retreats were facilitated and surveys were used to assess changes experi-
enced by participants. They found statistically significant improvements for
hopefulness, empowerment, and mindfulness, and self-reported alcohol,
tobacco, and cocaine use declined (Thomas et al., 2013). The team con-
cluded, “given the potential to decrease the personal suffering and social
costs associated with addiction, further research is warranted” (Thomas
et al., 2013, p. 10). Indigenous People in Canada experience a dispropor-
tionate rate of problematic substance use, largely due to the intergenera-
tional trauma caused by colonization, the residential school system and
other community-rupturing government policies (First Nations Health
Authority [FNHA], 2013). The research team had obtained ethics approval
to conduct the study but did not describe whether or not they had sought an
exemption for the use of ayahuasca. However, an addendum noted that, at
the time of the retreats, Health Canada had provided a recommendation for
approval “in principle” to exempt certain forms of ceremonial ayahuasca
use (Thomas et al., 2013). This “in principle” approval had been provided
to the CdM, which leads us to their story.
In 1996, Jessica Rochester traveled to Brazil and was initiated into Santo
Daime. Upon her return to Canada, she founded CdM, and, in the following
years, other Santo Daime groups grew out of CdM, in Quebec and Ontario
(Rochester, 2017). Following the Santo Daime teachings, the CdM use
Daime tea (ayahuasca) as their sacrament and import the tea from Brazil.
In September 2000, the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency intercepted a
shipment of the tea and turned it over to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police
(RCMP) for chemical analysis (Tupper, 2011). It was found to contain DMT
and harmala alkaloids, and when the CdM went to the RCMP office, they
were informed that possession of Daime constituted an offense under the
Canadian criminal code, and any further attempts to import or distribute it
could result in criminal charges of trafficking a controlled substance. How-
ever, they were also provided information on how to apply for an exemp-
tion under Section 56. As the story goes, the RCMP anticipated a successful
outcome and kept the tea for six months, expressing regret when they were
obliged to destroy it (Tupper, 2011). Little did they know, it would take over
17 years from this point for the CdM to receive their exemption!
In April 2001, the CdM began their application to Health Canada to
request a Section 56 exemption. In September 2006, this application was
approved “in principle,” pending receipt of documentation from the gov-
ernment of Brazil allowing legal export of tea (Rochester, 2017).
The delay between 2001 and 2006 was, in part, due to the unfortunate
death of Jane Maiangowi, an elder from a Canadian indigenous commu-
nity who had invited an Ecuadorian healer to hold a healing ceremony
(Tupper, 2011). The death was ultimately found to be from acute nicotine
intoxication from the powerful tobacco preparations used in the ceremony,
not from ayahuasca. While Health Canada waited to hear the toxicology
results, the CdM application was put on hold. Further delays came from
issues with the Brazilian export permits, and the full exemption had yet to
be approved. In 2012, CdM made a legal demand for the Canadian gov-
ernment to respond to their request for exemption, which was ultimately
denied (Rochester, 2012). In 2006, the Conservative party had gained
power federally and, in 2007, implemented a new “National Anti-Drug
Strategy.” The CdM believe that the Health Minister’s decision was based
on ideological reasoning that disregarded expert information and the rec-
ommendation by the OCS, and that this ideology entailed a firm belief that
all non-medical use of controlled substances is “abuse of drugs” (CdM,
personal communication, August 14, 2018).
The federal Liberals, a party with a more progressive approach to drug
policy, took power in 2015 and CdM renewed their application. They also
combined efforts with the Montreal União do Vegetal (UDV) group, which
had had previous successful legal appeals in the US, to educate stakeholders
within the government and outside of it, based on science and religious
legitimacy (Rochester, 2017). In June 2017, CdM, Eclectic Center of the
Universal Flowing Light of Montréal, Canada was “granted the right to
import and serve the Santo Daime sacrament” in spiritual rituals. The UDV
also received an exemption to import ayahuasca (which they call “hoasca”)
at this time.
The UDV story in Canada crosses a few international borders on its way
to exemption. A Canadian citizen, Jeffrey Bronfman, discovered the Benef-
icent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal during a trip to Brazil, became a
mestre (ritual leader), and founded the US branch of the UDV in Santa Fe,
New Mexico in 1994 (Couto, 2018). After a seizure of their ayahuasca,
Bronfman filed an appeal in the US Supreme Court, which, in 2006, finally
ruled that the UDV could import and distribute the tea in the US (Couto,
2018). After founding the Montréal UDV group, Bronfman was looking for
regulatory support based on his experience in the US. The UDV and CdM
benefited from each other’s struggles with legislative systems inexperienced
in the management of requests from religious groups that use psychoactive,
controlled substances as their sacrament. Both groups have established new
regulatory pathways through many years of perseverance and commitment
to their faith.
In terms of meeting regulatory demands, the main concerns of Health
Canada and the OCS are the health and safety of members and visitors
and preventing diversion of the substance (Rochester, 2017). To alleviate
these concerns, CdM was required to show that Santo Daime is a legitimate
religion; that the sacrament is safe within this context; that cannabis is
not served as a sacrament; that CdM is a non-profit in good standing; that
only designated members import, transport, possess, and serve the tea, and
that the supply comes from a legitimate, registered Brazilian Santo Daime
church. Detailed records about the sacrament inventory and “works” (rit-
uals) are required to be kept (CdM, personal communication, August 14,
2018). Further, international shipping and local storage, transportation,
and serving must take place under guidelines established by OCS, and
members and visitors must be screened for health and medication contrain-
dications (Rochester, 2017).
The CdM are quick to note that OCS staff have been respectful, profes-
sional, and a pleasure to work with, and that regulation is welcomed by the
church, as:
Current regulations and conditions for exemption set a high bar for
demonstrating a high degree of competency of religious leaders, eth-
ical and lawful administration on an organizational level, ecological
responsibility in sourcing and preparation of the plants used to produce
the Sacrament, and accountability in terms of participant safety and
follow up. We believe all of these are required when striking the correct
balance between respecting religious freedom and regulation.
(CdM, personal communication, August 14 2018)
The efforts of CdM and Montréal UDV opened the door for other Canadian
Santo Daime churches- there are now six in total operating with exemp-
tions. The Centre for Universal Illumination Luz Divina in Winnipeg is the
latest to obtain the exemption, in 2020 (Browne, 2020). The others are:
Ceu da Divina Luz do Montreal, the Église Santo Daime Céu do Vale de
Vida in Val-David, Quebec, and the Ceu de Toronto (Browne, 2019). Each
church made its own application, and the decisions made by the Health
Minister balance public safety with respect of religious freedoms contained
in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (Dubey, 2020). These
exemptions are granted for two years and are renewable (Rochester, 2017).
The Section 56 exemptions obtained by these churches do not mean that
use of ayahuasca or sacrament is legal in Canada. Even within the Santo
Daime and UDV communities, each organization must apply for its own
exemption. Despite receiving the legal exemption, CdM members still expe-
rience stigma, and “practitioners may face judgment from peers, employers,
family members, and the general public, who may associate practice of the
Santo Daime religion with illicit drug use or participation in a clandestine
drug cult” (CdM, personal communication, August 14, 2018). This stig-
matization as “drug-users” has been experienced by practitioners in other
parts of the globe as well (Anderson et al., 2012). Indeed, for individuals
whose religions use a sacrament that is criminalized, procurement is diffi-
cult and can render ayahuasca clandestine to use, expensive to procure, and
stigmatizing to facilitate or participate in; “one is always acutely aware that
you can be unfairly sanctioned and potentially face severe legal penalties
for exercising your religious conviction and practicing the Santo Daime
religion” (CdM, personal communication, August 14 2018). However, the
benefits can be tremendous, including greater self-awareness and compas-
sion, social participation in a supportive community, and strong ethical
frameworks that can be applied to everyday life (CdM, personal communi-
cation, August 14, 2018). This stigma can also be experienced by those who
participate in underground ceremonies in Canada; attempts to share expe-
riences with family, friends, or healthcare practitioners can be met with dis-
missal. In response to this, a number of therapists are offering integration
sessions for individuals seeking to make meaning from profound experi-
ences in a setting without the cultural context of the Santo Daime churches.
Political contexts play a major role in the regulation of ayahuasca glob-
ally. Intolerance of Santo Daime practices does not appear to be based on
comprehensive evaluations of benefits and consequences, either for practi-
tioners or public health (Anderson et al., 2012). In most parts of the globe,
the War on Drugs continues to wage. Canada’s drug policy has largely been
prohibitionist; from 2006 until 2015, Canada was led by a Conservative
federal government. When they came into power, this government intro-
duced the National Anti-Drug Strategy (NADS) that, among other things,
removed harm reduction as a pillar of the federal drug strategy. The NADS
has received national and international criticism, primarily for the severe
lack of evidence-based policy (DeBeck et al., 2009; Strang et al., 2012;
Carter & Macpherson, 2013; Global Commission on Drug Policy, 2014).
The NADS’ fiscal emphasis on enforcement has also been denounced, as
enforcement alone is not effective in reducing substance use-related harms
(DeBeck et al., 2009; Carter & Macpherson, 2013). Additionally, the fed-
eral government’s reliance on criminal law to deal with problematic sub-
stance use has been highly criticized for its myopic and disproportional
targeting of marginalized groups (Strang et al., 2012; Bennet & Bernstein,
2013; Carter & Macpherson, 2013; Global Commission on Drug Policy,
2014). This includes mandatory minimum sentences for drug-related crimes
and the criminalization of addiction (Bennet & Bernstein, 2013; Carter &
Macpherson, 2013). Consequently, the NADS bolstered the War on Drugs
through increased police resourcing, mandatory minimum sentencing, and
the attempt to shut down evidence-based harm reduction interventions.
It takes concerted effort for science to influence policy, and the interplay
between various government agencies makes these attempts complex. As
the CdM shared, “the Minister of Health, who might not have scientific
or legal expertise, has the ultimate discretion over the issuance of any
exemption under Section 56” (CdM, personal communication, August 14,
2018). They experienced that discrepancy between the 2012 decision and
the exemption granting in 2017. The unpredictable nature of government
policy application renders the CdM’s ability to use their sacrament tenuous,
as “actions exempt today can become illegal tomorrow at a political whim”
(CdM, personal communication, August 14, 2018).
In 2016, the Liberal government announced the new Canadian Drugs
and Substances Strategy (CDSS) to replace the NADS, officially restoring
harm reduction as the fourth pillar of the federal drug strategy (Govern-
ment of Canada, 2016). Harm reduction may be defined as, “secondary or
tertiary prevention that seeks to lessen the harms associated with substance
use without requiring abstinence” (British Columbia Ministry of Health
Services, 2004, p. 26). This concept is important, as recognition of harm
reduction acknowledges that substance use occurs, sometimes even in a
beneficial way.
A document published by the First Nations Health Authority entitled, A
Path Forward: BC First Nations and Aboriginal People’s Mental Wellness
and Substance Use – 10 Year Plan, represents a sharp pivot away from the
perspective that all substance use is “abuse” and inherently problematic.
It makes reference to the concept that, instead, substance use is on a spec-
trum that includes beneficial use; specifically, noting the ceremonial use of
ayahuasca as falling in this category (FNHA, 2013). Further, the Canadian
Drug Policy Coalition has called for the Federal government to prioritize
their “work with the Santo Daime and União do Vegetal churches, as well as
shamanic practitioners, to explore options for legitimizing the ceremonial
uses of ayahuasca and similar plant-based psychoactive substances used for
sacramental and traditional folk healing purposes” (Canadian Drug Policy
Coalition, 2018, p. 1).
In related Canadian drug policy developments, cannabis was legalized
in October 2018 (Government of Canada, 2018). This legalization is mul-
tifaceted, and includes regulation over the production, labeling, distribu-
tion, and sale of cannabis (Government of Canada, 2018). Arguably, one
might anticipate the future regulation of ayahuasca could follow a similar
path, through legislation and amendments to the Controlled Drugs and
Substances Act. A Canadian government document noted that cannabis
legalization may set a precedent for the potential legalization of numerous
plant- and fungi-based drugs that are currently illegal in Canada, including
ayahuasca:
There are a large number of plant- and fungi-based drugs that have
been made illegal. These have been linked by analogy to cannabis, or
themselves have been linked to the legal psychoactive analogues of can-
nabis listed above. Notable examples of such substances are coca leaf,
khat, diviner’s sage, ayahuasca preparations, peyote cactus, and psilo-
cybin containing mushrooms…it should be noted that once cannabis is
legalized, arguments by analogy from substances of this type to canna-
bis may be made.
(Lawrence, 2016, p. 11)
However, there are notable differences with a plant product such as can-
nabis, that can be grown in Canada, and the components of ayahuasca.
The work of CdM certainly provides a framework for a standardized pro-
curement of ayahuasca, but expansion to a larger consumer group would
provide new challenges.
The most recent shift in psychedelic medicine policy in Canada was the
introduction of MDMA and psilocybin to the Special Access Program in
January 2022. This program allows physicians to apply for an exemption
to prescribe psilocybin or MDMA to individual patients with conditions
that are not responding to conventional therapy; these will be reviewed on a
case-by-case basis (Health Canada, 2022b). Organizations have emerged to
both assist individuals in applying for exemptions under the Special Access
Program and to facilitate connecting individuals with practitioners who
can provide psychedelic-assisted therapies.
These drug policy changes have the potential to provide greater access to
psychedelic medicines, which have typically had barriers to diversity and
inclusion (Williams & Leins, 2016).
The Canadian federal government’s perspective on ayahuasca, and
psychedelics more broadly, has gone through many iterations, but arguably
is shifting toward acceptance with the advent of these policy changes and
advances in clinical trials. The current political climate, new national drug
strategy, and exemptions for Santo Daime churches may open the door
toward a culture in which the legal or decriminalized use of ayahuasca
could exist in Canada. Indeed, building on the legislative changes for can-
nabis, members of the current leading Canadian political party have been
pushing its government to consider decriminalizing all currently illicit
drugs (Kassam, 2018). Two Canadian cities have voted to decriminalize the
possession of small amounts of illegal substances and have applied to the
federal government for exemptions (Sasitharan, 2021). Further, the grow-
ing recognition that there is therapeutic benefit to the use of ayahuasca
and other medicines in the treatment of mental health and substance use
disorders, as well as chronic medical conditions, may lead to the changes
required to use ayahuasca in a non-criminalized way. Certainly, there is
more positive light being shone on ayahuasca and other plant-based medi-
cines, such as ibogaine, for their potential in treating addiction, as Canada
struggles to find solutions in a tragic opioid poisoning crisis. News coverage
pointing to therapeutic applications of these medicines features individuals
who have benefitted and are willing to come forward and tell their stories
(Mullin, 2017; Little, 2018). A thorough investigation of ayahuasca would
likely find that the potential for abuse is low, as “the unpredictable and
sometimes unpleasant nature of the experience, including the common side
effects of nausea and vomiting, are probable deterrents” (Tupper, 2011,
p. 320) to casual or recreational use. To add to the safety profile, no signs
of negative medical or social consequences have been found in long-term
consumers of Daime tea (Anderson et al., 2012).
How regulation may develop in Canada remains an open question, but
some recommendations for an ethical unfolding can be posited. A regu-
latory process could evaluate and learn from the legalization of cannabis
and develop a framework for the legalization of ayahuasca in Canada.
The Canadian Drug Policy Coalition (CDPC) is working collaboratively
to create a regulatory framework for all currently illegal drugs in Canada
(CDPC, 2022). These frameworks have public health at their heart, and
could improve access to ayahuasca and safety for participants in ceremo-
nies. A precedent has been set with the CdM and other churches, and the
government should continue to allow related groups to apply for Section 56
exemptions, and maintain this system for specialized use regardless of the
broader legal status of ayahuasca in Canada. CdM would like to see a more
formalized process for applications and renewals of religious exemptions;
as the first case in Canada to receive an exemption for these purposes,
they had to essentially invent the process (CdM, personal communication,
August 14, 2018). Lastly, research on this topic ought to be conducted in a
community-based manner, with indigenous voices central to the discussion
and holding power (Arnstein, 1969; World Ayahuasca Conference, 2016).
For now, this plant continues to inspire intrigue and generate hopes of
healing for many Canadians. A policy shift around psychedelics, and plant
medicines more broadly, has begun to occur and a dynamic conversation
about ayahuasca use in Canada will likely remain firmly planted in the
public sphere for years to come.
Acknowledgements
We would like to extend gratitude to Douglas Ferguson and Rev. Dr. Jessica
Rochester of Céu do Montréal for their willingness to provide information
about the Céu do Montréal and their exemption process.
References
Amor, B. (2018). The heart of whiteness: On spiritual tourism and the colonization
of ayahuasca. Bitch Magazine: Feminist Response to Pop Culture, 79, 24–29.
Anderson, B. T., Meyer, M., Tupper, K. W., Barbosa, P. C. R., Grob, C. S., Daw-
son, D., & McKenna, D. (2012). Statement on ayahuasca. International Journal
of Drug Policy, 23(3), 173–175.
Arnstein, S. R. (1969). A ladder of citizen participation. Journal of the American
Institute of Planners, 35(4), 216–224.
Beaulieu, J. (2011, November 4). [Letter to Gabor Maté]. Bialabate.net. https://
www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/Letter_Health_Canada_
Gabor_Mate_1.pdf
Bennett, D., & Bernstein, S. (2013). Throwing away the keys: The human
and social cost of mandatory minimum sentences. PIVOT Legal Society
http://d3n8a8pro7vhmx.cloudfront.net/pivotlegal/pages/395/attachments/
original/1372448744/Final_ThrowingAway_lo-res_-_v2.pdf?1372448744
British Columbia Ministry of Health Services. (2004). Every door is the right door:
A British Columbia planning framework to address problematic substance
use and addiction. Victoria, BC, Canada Ministry of Health Service. https://
www.health.gov.bc.ca/library/publications/year/2004/framework_for_sub-
stance_use_and_addiction.pdf
Browne, R. (2019). Health Canada allows more religious groups to import ayahuasca.
Global News. https://globalnews.ca/news/5249299/health-canada-ayahuasca/
Browne, R. (2020). Legal ayahuasca churches are spreading across Canada.
VICE World News. https://www.vice.com/en/article/4ay9y9/legal-ayahuasca-
churches-are-spreading-across-canada
Canadian Broadcasting Company News. (2018, April 23). Effects and risks of aya-
huasca, the hallucinogen sought after by Canadians travelling to the Amazon.
CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/health/ayahuasca-faq-1.4631656
Canadian Broadcasting Company News. (2018, May 4). All evidence shows B.C.
man lynched in Peru had shot and killed Indigenous healer: Prosecutor. CBC
News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/sebastian-woodroffe-
1.4648195
Canadian Drug Policy Coalition. (2018). Issues: Psychedelics. Drugpolicy.ca.
http://drugpolicy.ca/issues/psychedelics/
Canadian Drug Policy Coalition. (2022). About. https://www.drugpolicy.ca/about/
overview/
Carter, C. I., & Macpherson, D. (2013). Getting to tomorrow: A report on Canadian
drug policy. Drugpolicy.ca. https://drugpolicy.ca/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/
CDPC2013_en.pdf
Carhart-Harris, R., Giribaldi, B., Watts, R., Baker-Jones, M., Murphy-Beiner, A.,
Murphy, R., Martell, J., Blemings, A., Erritzoe, D., & Nutt, D. J. (2021). Trial
of psilocybin versus escitalopram for depression. New England Journal of Med-
icine, 384(15), 1402–1411.
Couto, S. (2018). Two Montreal Religious Groups Can Now Legally Import Aya-
huasca. Vice Magazine. https://www.vice.com/en/article/d35w5j/two-montreal-
religious-groups-can-now-legally-import-ayahuasca
DeBeck, K., Wood, E., Montaner, J., & Kerr, T. (2009). Canada’s new federal
“National Anti-Drug Strategy”: An informal audit of reported funding allo-
cation. International Journal of Drug Policy, 20(2), 188–191. doi:10.1016/
j.drugpo.2008.04.004
Department of Justice Canada. (2018). An Act respecting cannabis and to amend
the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act, the Criminal Code and other Acts.
http://www.parl.ca/DocumentViewer/en/42-1/bill/C-45/first-reading
Department of Justice Canada. (2019). Controlled Drugs and Substances Act.
http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/C-38.8/index.html.
Domínguez-Clavé, E., Soler, J., Elices, M., Pascual, J. C., Álvarez, E., de la Fuente
Revenga, M., Friedlander, P., Feilding, A., Riba, J. (2016). Ayahuasca: Pharma-
cology, neuroscience and therapeutic potential. Brain Research Bulletin, 126(Pt
1), 89–101. doi: 10.1016/j.brainresbull.2016.03.002.
Dubey, R. (2020) Ayahuasca exemptions: Psychedelics in Canada. Truffle Report.
https://www.truffle.report/psychedelic-decriminalization-in-canada-ayahuasca-
exemptions/
First Nations Health Authority, BC Ministry of Health, Health Canada. (2013).
A path forward: BC First Nations and Aboriginal people’s mental wellness
and substance use – 10 year plan. http://www.fnha.ca/documents/fnha_mwsu.
pdf
First Nations Information Governance Centre. (2018). The First Nations princi-
ples of OCAP®. First Nations Information Governance Centre. https://fnigc.ca/
ocap-training/
Global Commission on Drug Policy. (2014). Taking control: Pathways to drug
policies that work. http://drugpolicy.ca/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/global_
commission_EN1.pdf
Government of Canada. (2016).The New Canadian Drugs and Substances Strategy.
https://www.canada.ca/en/health-canada/news/2016/12/new-canadian-drugs-
substances-strategy.html
Government of Canada (2018). Cannabis Act, the Facts. https://www.canada.ca/
en/health-canada/news/2018/06/backgrounder-the-cannabis-act-the-facts.html
Grierson, J., & Siddique, H. (2016, January 13). Canadian who killed Briton
at Peru retreat says it was “kill or die.” The Guardian. https://www.
theguardian.com/world/2016/jan/13/canadian-who-killed-brit-on-spiritual-
retreat-says-it-was-kill-or-be-killed
Grob, C. S., Danforth, A. L., Chopra, G. S., Hagerty, M., McKay, C. R., Hal-
berstadt, A. L., & Greer, G. R. (2011). Pilot study of psilocybin treatment for
anxiety in patients with advanced-stage cancer. Archives of General Psychiatry,
68(1), 71–78.
Health Canada. (2022a). Food and drug regulations. Justice Laws Website. http://
laws.justice.gc.ca/eng/regulations/c.r.c.,_c._870/index.html.
Health Canada. (2022b). Subsection 56(1) class exemption for practitioners,
agents, pharmacists, persons in charge of a hospital, hospital employees, and
licensed dealers to conduct activities with psilocybin and MDMA in relation
to a special access program authorization. https://www.canada.ca/en/health-
canada/services/health-concerns/controlled-substances-precursor-chemicals/
policy-regulations/policy-documents/subsection-56 -1-class-exemption-
conducting-activities-psilocybin-mdma-special-access-program-authorization.
html
Homan, J. (2011). Charlatans, seekers, and shamans: The ayahuasca boom in
western Peruvian Amazonia (Master’s thesis). University of Kansas. http://
citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.871.1546&rep=rep1&
type=pdf
Johnson, M. W., Garcia-Romeu, A., Cosimano, M. P., & Griffiths, R. R. (2014).
Pilot study of the 5-HT2AR agonist psilocybin in the treatment of tobacco addic-
tion. Journal of Psychopharmacology, 12(10), 983–992.
Kassam, A. (2018, April 16). Canada’s Liberal party considers decriminalization
of all illicit drugs. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/
apr/16/canada-liberal-party-considers-decriminalization-all-illicit-drugs
Labate, B. C., & Feeney, K. (2012). Ayahuasca and the process of regulation
in Brazil and internationally: Implications and challenges. International Jour-
nal of Drug Policy, 23(2), 154–161. doi:https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2011.
06.006
Lawrence, A. (2016). Ways to consider non-medical cannabis: Reasoning from
conceptual analogues. Public Safety Canada. https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/
cnt/rsrcs/pblctns/2016-r011/index-en.aspx
Leger, R. F., & Unterwald, E. M. (2021). Assessing the effects of methodological
differences on outcomes in the use of psychedelics in the treatment of anxiety
and depressive disorders: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Journal of Psy-
chopharmacology, 36(1), 20–30. doi: 10.1177/02698811211044688.
Levy, A. (2016). The drug of choice for the age of kale. The New Yorker. https://
www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/09/12/the-ayahuasca-boom-in-the-u-s
Little, S. (2018). Hallucinogen that heals? One BC psychotherapist’s experience
with ayahuasca. Global News. https://globalnews.ca/news/4166406/ayahuasca-
mental-health-addiction/
Maté, G. (2015, December 26). The profound power of an Amazonian plant – And
the respect it demands. Globe and Mail. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/
opinion /the-profound-power-of-an-amazonian-plant-and-the-respect-it-
demands/article27895775/
Maté, G. (2018). Inside the ayahuasca experience: When shamanism meets psy-
chotherapy. PsychotherapyNetworker. https://www.psychotherapynetworker.
org /magazine/article/2311/inside-the-ayahuasca-experience/00000000 -
0000-0000-0000-000000000000
Maybin, S., & Casserly, J. (2020, January 16). I was sexually abused by a sha-
man at an ayahuasca retreat. BBC News-Peru. https://www.bbc.com/news/
stories-51053580
Mitchell, J. M., Bogenschutz, M., Lilienstein, A., Harrison, C., Kleiman, S., Parker-
Guilbert, K., Ot’alora G. M., Garas, W., Paleos, C., Gorman, I., Nicholas, C.,
Mithoefer, M., Carlin, S., Poulter, B., Mithoefer, A., Quevedo, S., Wells, G.,
Klaire, S. S., van der Kolk, B., … Doblin, R. (2021). MDMA-assisted therapy
for severe PTSD: A randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled phase 3 study.
Nature Medicine, 27(6), 1025–1033.
Monroe, R. (2017, January 18). Sexual abuse in the Amazon. The Cut, New York
Magazine. https://www.thecut.com/2021/11/sexual-assault-ayahuasca-tourism.
html
Moreno, F. A., Wiegand, C. B., Taitano, E. K., & Delgado, P. L. (2006). Safety,
tolerability, and efficacy of psilocybin in 9 patients with obsessive-compulsive
disorder. The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, 67(11), 1735–1740.
Mullin, M. (2017, May 2). Opioid addicts turn to psychedelic plants to treat
withdrawal, but doctors warn of risks. CBC. https://www.cbc.ca/news/health/
psychedelic-plants-opioid-addiction-1.4063676
Oak, A. (2014, February 23). Abuse of power in ceremonies that use psychoac-
tive substances. Paper presented at the Shaman Women, Plant Medicine and
Psychedelics Salon, Simon Fraser University Harbourfront Campus, Vancouver,
BC, Canada, October 20, 2013. https://womensvisionarycongress.tumblr.com/
post/111903748795/abuse-of-power-in-ceremonies-that-use-psychoactive
On Drugs. (2018, February 17). On drugs extra: Ayahuasca in the jungle [Podcast].
On Drugs, CBC Radio. https://www.cbc.ca/listen/cbc-podcasts/157-on-drugs/
episode/15521297-on-drugs-extra-ayahuasca-in-the-jungle
Posner, M. (2011, November 9). B.C. doctor agrees to stop using Amazonian plant to treat
addictions. The Globe and Mail. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/health-
and-fitness/bc-doctor-agrees-to-stop-using-amazonian-plant-to-treat-addictions/
article4250579/
Proctor, J. (2018, April 26). Peruvian lynching death underscores risk of journeys
into the jungle – And the mind. CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/
british-columbia/peru-lynching-ayahuasca-tourism-danger-1.4635119
Rochester, J. (2012). Update in legal status in Santo Daime Canada: Health Can-
ada refuses to grant permission for importation of Daime. Bialabate.net. https://
www.bialabate.net/news/update-in-legal-status-in-santo-daime-canada-health-
canada-refuses-to-grant-permission-for-importation-of-daime
Rochester, J. (2017, July 17). How our Santo Daime church received religious
exemption to use ayahuasca in Canada. Chacruna.net. http://chacruna.net/
how-ayahuasca-church-received-religious-exemption-canada/
Romeo, B., Karila, L., Martelli, C., & Benyamina, A. (2020). Efficacy of psyche-
delic treatments on depressive symptoms: A meta-analysis. Journal of Psychop-
harmacology, 34(10), 1079–1085.
Sasitharan, K. (2021). Toronto Board of Health votes to decriminalize posses-
sion of small amounts of illegal drugs. CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/
canada/toronto/toronto-board-of-health-votes-yes-process-decriminalization-
small-drug-posession-illegal-1.6275501#:~:text=CBC%20News%20Loaded-,
Toronto%20Board%20of%20Health%20votes%20to%20decriminalize%20
possession%20of%20small,the%20worsening%20opioid%20overdose%20crisis.
Strang, J., Babor, T., Caulkins, J., Fishcher, B., Foxcroft, D., & Humphreys, K.
(2012). Drug policy and the public good: Evidence for effective interventions.
Lancet, 379(9810), 71–83. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(11)61674-7
Thomas, G., Lucas, P., Capler, R., Tupper, K., & Martin, G. (2013). Ayahuasca-
assisted therapy for addiction: Results from a preliminary observational study in
Canada. Current Drug Abuse Reviews, 6(1), 1–13.
Tupper, K. W. (2006). The globalization of ayahuasca: Harm reduction or benefit
maximization? International Journal of Drug Policy, 19(4), 297–303.
Tupper, K. W. (2009). Ayahuasca healing beyond the Amazon: The globalization of
a traditional Indigenous entheogenic practice. Global Networks, 9(1), 117–136.
doi:10.1111/j.1471-0374.2009.00245.x
Tupper, K. W. (2011). Ayahuasca in Canada: Cultural phenomenon and policy
issue. In B.C. Labate & H. Jungaberle (Eds.), The internationalization of aya-
huasca (pp. 319–325). Lit Verlag.
Williams, M., & Leins, C. (2016). Race-based trauma: The challenge and prom-
ise of MDMA-assisted psychotherapy. MAPS Bulletin, 26(1). https://maps.org/
news/bulletin/race-based-trauma-the-challenge-and-promise-of-mdma-assisted-
psychotherapy/
World Ayahuasca Conference. (2016). Open letter from the Indigenous people of
Acre, Brazil. Chacruna.net. https://chacruna.net/letter-indigenous-people-acre/
Yazar-Klosinski, B. B., & Mithoefer, M. C. (2017). Potential psychiatric uses for
MDMA. Clinical Pharmacology & Therapeutics, 101(2), 194–196. doi:10.1002/
cpt.565
4 Regulating Ayahuasca in the
United Kingdom
Proactive Approaches
Charlotte Walsh
This chapter looks at contrasting proactive approaches that may be taken

in the quest to successfully integrate ayahuasca into society in the United
Kingdom (UK). One way is to apply for a license to use this otherwise
prohibited substance. On this point, legal analysis is offered of the recent
refusal by the (then) Secretary of State for the Home Office—and subse-
quent applications to have this decision reviewed—to allow an ayahuasca-
using church, the Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal (UDV), to
be granted a license to import, supply, and possess its sacrament. An alter-
native approach is for ayahuasca providers currently working illegally to
self-regulate, ensuring that they are holding themselves to high standards
of conduct, perhaps through the formation of an association with accom-
panying codes of practice. This can be conceived of as a good in and of
itself, as potentially mitigating sentences in the event of prosecution, along
with establishing some consensus as regards what regulation might look
like in (perhaps optimistic) anticipation of the legalization of ayahuasca.
On this latter point, were prohibition of this plant medicine to end, what
will replace it will potentially range from strict governmental legal regu-
lation, possibly of a medical nature, through to the model recommended
here, of practitioner-generated best practice guidelines, voluntarily ascribed
to: If this is the aspiration, it seems prudent to have such codes in place
in advance. What is being proposed is a new paradigm for the regulation
of ayahuasca, separate from either the strictures of criminalization under
which it is currently subsumed, the medical model it could potentially be
transitioned into, or, indeed, any other form of stringent, compulsory reg-
ulation: The uniqueness of the brew itself, of ayahuasca providers, and of
the sacramental and ceremonial settings in which it is typically ingested,
demands a distinctive approach.
Seeking License
Since the criminal case of R v Aziz (2012), ayahuasca has been treated by
the UK authorities as a preparation containing N,N-dimethyltryptamine
(DMT), thereby falling under the auspices of the main piece of prohibitive
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-5 69
70 Charlotte Walsh
drug legislation of this country, the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971 (MDA).
While this interpretation of the law is highly questionable—and has,
indeed, been questioned (Walsh, 2017)—that is not the focus here; rather,
the predominant attempt to move forward in spite of this adverse decision.
The UDV—an ayahuasca-using church with roots in Brazil and congre-
gations around the world—applied to the Home Secretary for a license to
import, supply, and possess ayahuasca, the granting of which would exempt
them from prohibition, as per section 7 of the MDA. This application was
refused by Amber Rudd, Home Secretary at the time, in November 2016,
leading to the UDV seeking permission for judicial review of this decision
(Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal v Secretary of State for the
Home Department, 2017). Judicial review is a mechanism by which the
judiciary reviews the lawfulness of the way in which a determination has
been made by executive or legislative authority—in this case the former—
focusing on the legitimacy of the process that was followed, rather than the
substantive outcome (Southey et al., 2017). The UDV’s request for judicial
review was unsuccessful, with Sir Ross Cranston—sitting as a judge of the
High Court that was ruling on this—approving the approach taken by the
Home Secretary. The rationale, both of this decision and of the one that
preceded it, will now be considered in depth, subjecting them to critical
analysis.
Both Sir Ross Cranston and Amber Rudd before him placed heavy reli-
ance on the advice given by the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs
(ACMD) in reaching their conclusions; this quasi-independent body makes
recommendations to the government on the control of what are perceived
to be dangerous or otherwise harmful drugs. The ACMD’s primary con-
cern was that “there is a general paucity of evidence and there have been
no controlled clinical studies to establish the safety of hoasca” (as quoted
in Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal v Secretary of State for the
Home Department, 2017, para. 4). (Note, ayahuasca is here being referred
to as “hoasca,” as the preferred term of the UDV for their sacrament.)
This claim can be contested. A recently published report that provides an
invaluable overview of the scientific research on ayahuasca—which is not
insubstantial—concludes on this point that: “Regarding the effects of aya-
huasca in the organism, studies performed with volunteers both in the labo-
ratory and in natural contexts show that ayahuasca is physiologically safe”
(International Center for Ethnobotanical Education Research and Service
[ICEERS], 2017, p. 7).
The ACMD also expressed their unease regarding a lack of standard-
ization of ayahuasca: “Unless each batch is tested there is the potential
for variability in concentration and strength… It is therefore not possible
for the Council to give a view on what could constitute a ‘safe dose’” (as
quoted in Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal v Secretary of
State for the Home Department, 2017, para. 4). There is certainly some
veracity to this claim as regards a lack of consistency in the makeup of
Regulating Ayahuasca in the United Kingdom: Proactive Approaches 71
the brew, with this point segueing into a deeper issue that will be devel-
oped throughout this piece: namely, the essential lack of compatibility
of ayahuasca with the fundamental principles of Western medicine that
are being deferred to here, albeit in a religious context, such as stand-
ardization of dosage. Indeed, the very idea of uniformity is anathema to
the approach adopted in concocting ayahuasca, where the preparation
of the brew is considered to be an essential part of the healing art in and
of itself: “Based on the intended use… Amazonian groups or healers …
add different plants to the decoction with the objective of communicating
with a specific spirit, depending on the disease to be healed or ritual to be
performed” (ICEERS, 2017, p. 2). In terms of dosage, it is part of the role
of whoever is serving the medicine to determine, with the help of the plant
spirits, how much an individual might need on their spiritual quest. As
is readily apparent, these issues embody an even more profound conflict
between materialistic and spiritual paradigms that will not be resolved
by attempting to force the round peg of the latter into the square hole of
the former.
A final apprehension voiced by the ACMD in relation to ayahuasca was
that “its use may not be without risk of harm potentially associated with
states of altered consciousness that could be induced by the tea, for exam-
ple, suggestibility” (as quoted in Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Veg-
etal v Secretary of State for the Home Department, 2017, para. 4). The
fear of the cult appears to lurk close to the surface here, and, indeed, the
difference between a cult and a religion is often a matter of perspective, of
whether one stands inside or outside of the group in question (Hall, 2011).
The presence of a psychoactive substance predictably intensifies such con-
cerns, and the British tabloid media has often portrayed ayahuasca-using
churches in extremely negative terms in scaremongering articles, such as
the one carrying the headline “Suicides, sects, murder and insanity: The
disturbing truth about the trendy ‘spiritual’ hallucinogenic brew being
taken by gap year backpackers in the Amazon (and even in British sitting
rooms),” with the copy within liberally peppered with references to cults
(Roper, 2015). However, to disallow the UDV their sacrament on the basis
of this unsubstantiated worry—not borne out by the research into ritual
use of ayahuasca (ICEERS, 2017)—seems unduly paternalistic, and an
unwarranted suppression of religious freedom.
Accordingly, the UDV were challenging the Home Secretary’s refusal for
a license on the basis that this breached their human rights; specifically, the
right enshrined within Article 9 of the European Convention on Human
Rights (ECHR)—to which the UK is a signatory—to freedom of religion,
including the right to “manifest his religion or belief, in worship, teaching,
practice and observance.” The UDV contended that it is a religion and that
drinking ayahuasca in worship is a manifestation of its members’ religious
beliefs, and, indeed, there was no dispute from either the Home Secretary
or the High Court on these points. However, the protections ostensibly
72 Charlotte Walsh
offered by Article 9 are not absolute, but rather, are subject to the qualifiers
contained within Article 9(2), such that:
Freedom to manifest one’s religion or beliefs shall be subject only to

such limitations as are prescribed by law and are necessary in a dem-
ocratic society in the interests of public safety, for the protection of
public order, health or morals, or for the protection of the rights and
freedoms of others.
Any incursion into a protected right needs to be proportionate to the

perceived threat posed. Where the views of the parties diverged was as
regards whether Article 9(2) was engaged, and, further, if the refusal to
thereby disallow the UDV to use ayahuasca was a necessary and propor-
tionate response. The UDV argued against this interpretation, particularly
given the stringent conditions they would be consuming ayahuasca under:
namely, within the parameters of a ritual of worship, with the state being
able to oversee how much of the brew is being imported into the country,
and with the amount of ayahuasca, along with who is drinking it, carefully
logged, as is the case in other jurisdictions where such practices have been
legitimized, such as, for instance, various states in the US (Feeney et al.,
2018).
The reasons given by the Home Secretary for coming to the opposite con-
clusion were twofold and will be analyzed, in turn. First, with relevance to
Article 9(2), she asserted that there is a strong public interest in preventing
the consumption of Class A drugs on public safety and health grounds, cit-
ing the aforementioned (mis)perceived paucity of evidence regarding safety
and the impact on health of ayahuasca. There is a clash of narratives at play
here, with the UDV venerating ayahuasca as their holy sacrament, and the
Home Secretary denigrating it as a Class A drug, reducing a complex cer-
emony down to the psychoactive component of the brew consumed within
it (Sanchez & Bouso, 2016). This, again, is emblematic of a spiritual and
a materialistic paradigm talking past one another. The UDV contested the
idea that the public interest was threatened, given the highly circumscribed
and controlled exemption from prohibition being proposed, conjunct with
the fact that drinking ayahuasca—for many reasons, not least, its unpleas-
ant taste and challenging effects—is unlikely ever to be anything other than
a minority pursuit. They argued that the Home Secretary had failed to
substantiate why it was necessary to refuse them a license in the interests
of public health and safety: No evidence had been produced demonstrating
a high risk of either short- or long-term health risks to ayahuasca drink-
ers; unsurprisingly, because it does not exist. Indeed, to the contrary, all
available research points to ayahuasca typically bringing benefits, in terms
of physical, mental, and spiritual wellbeing (ICEERS, 2017, p. 6). More
particularly, members of the UDV had testified to these positive effects in
their own lives. This case can be seen as an exemplar of a perennial problem
with the application of human rights provisions in practice: namely, that
incursions into them are often declared as justified through reference to
the qualifiers, in the absence of hard evidence being proffered in support
of such claims (Marshall, 2009). This renders these decisions political and
leaves stigmatized groups, such as “drug” takers, vulnerable to their osten-
sible freedoms not being worth the paper they are written on.
Secondly, the Home Secretary expressed concern that, if the govern-
ment allowed an exemption for the UDV from the MDA on the grounds
of religious freedom, they would be at risk of breaching their international
obligations under the global system of drug prohibition; in particular,
their commitment as signatory to the UN Convention on Psychotropic
Substances 1971 to prohibit activities involving the substances scheduled
within it. From a legal standpoint, this is a highly spurious argument, for a
number of reasons. First and foremost, neither ayahuasca nor the plants it is
constituted from are listed under the 1971 Convention; further, the official
commentary on the Convention clarifies that plants do not fall within its
auspices by virtue of naturally containing a psychoactive component that
is itself listed, in this instance, DMT (United Nations, 1977). In addition,
the International Narcotics Control Board (INCB), the body responsible
for overseeing implementation of the international drug conventions, has
clearly communicated that ayahuasca does not fall under this regime:
Many plants that contain psychoactive substances with stimulating

or hallucinogenic properties, as well as preparations made from those
plants, have traditional uses in some countries or regions; for example,
some are used in religious rites … Although some active stimulant or
hallucinogenic ingredients contained in certain plants are controlled
under the 1971 Convention, no plants are currently controlled under
that Convention or under the 1988 Convention. Preparations (e.g.,
decoctions for oral use) made from plants containing those active
ingredients are also not under international control. Examples of such
plants or plant material include… ayahuasca.
(INCB, 2010, paras. 284–285)
Even were the reverse the case, the international system allows for con-
stitutional exemptions from its prohibitions by virtue of Article 36(2) of
the Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs 1961, including for protection
of religious freedom, and, even absent this fact, the UK has the aforemen-
tioned superseding obligations under the ECHR to protect such. Beyond
this, section 7 of the MDA allows for the licensing of exemptions. The fact
that some other signatory nations—along with states within the US, the
main instigator and supporter of prohibition—have given exemptions to
ayahuasca-using churches without viewing the Conventions as constraining
this, and absent, consequently, drawing approbation from the INCB, is fur-
ther proof, if any were needed, that this is a non-argument (Gonzales v. O
74 Charlotte Walsh
Centro Espirita Beneficente União do Vegetal (2006) 546 US 418; Labate &
Cavnar, 2014b).
Depressingly, this is not an instance where a decision is scrutinized and,
in retrospect, all the arguments in rebuttal the claimants could have put
forward, yet did not, are listed; rather, these counter-points were raised at
the time, but inadequately engaged with. In refusing leave for a full judicial
review, Sir Ross Cranston did not criticize the Home Secretary’s process or
reasoning, referring, rather, to such vagaries as the broad margin of appre-
ciation in making such decisions, conjunct with the fact that the approach
in the UK is in line with other Council of Europe states. The presiding
judge was of the view that, while there was no evidence that ayahuasca was
harmful, it had also not been proven to be safe, so the Home Secretary was
justified in adopting a cautious approach. The distinction between these
two things seems more a matter of semantics than substance; furthermore,
it inappropriately shifts the burden of proof on to the UDV to prove the
safety of ayahuasca, whereas it should be on the state to prove its harmful-
ness, in order for them to legitimately engage Article 9(2) in the context of
interfering with this group’s religious freedom through prohibition of their
sacrament. Similarly, the Home Secretary’s concern in relation to poten-
tial breach of the 1971 Convention was deemed “not legally irrelevant” by
the High Court (Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal v Secretary
of State for the Home Department, 2017, para. 19), although the stated
reasons as to why this argument fails—most resoundingly, the fact that
ayahuasca is not listed within this Convention!—were not convincingly
engaged with. The fact of the law as a highly politicized instrument, rather
than as a tool for principled decision making, rooted in human rights and
the best available evidence, could not be more apparent.
While this refusal to grant a license to the UDV is disappointing, even
had one been given, it is submitted that this would not have gone far
enough, covering, as it would, only that specific church. There is a need
to move beyond minor, incremental reforms—what has been termed the
“metamorphosis of prohibition” (Taylor et al., 2016, p. 452)—with exemp-
tions from the system arguably paradoxically shoring it up, confirming its
overall legitimacy. In truth, what is needed is the end of drug prohibition,
not simply dispensations from it on religious, or any other, grounds. This
claim has been made in full numerous times before by the current author
(Walsh, 2014), drawing from the principles of classical liberalism, conjunct
with a human rights-informed perspective, and these arguments will not be
rehearsed again here. Suffice it to say that, from a liberal standpoint, the
criminal law should only be used to curtail activities that cause harm to
others (Mill, 1869). Drug prohibition is thus fundamentally illiberal and,
furthermore, breaches human rights, such as the rights to privacy, to man-
ifest one’s religion, to freedom of thought; The state has over-stepped its
legitimate boundaries and should retreat. These issues are sharpened in
the context of a substance such as ayahuasca, where even the notion of it
being a drug is vehemently contested. The remainder of this chapter is con-
cerned with the question of what should replace prohibition, specifically,
with regard to ayahuasca.
Beyond Prohibition
Ayahuasca is typically ingested in a ceremonial (religious or otherwise) or
therapeutic context (Labate et al., 2017). Should prohibition end, will all
the underground shamans and healers simply be able to emerge blinking
into the light of legality, continuing with their work as before, minus the
looming threat of criminalization? While this will depend on the system of
regulation that is implemented to replace prohibition, it is perhaps some-
what optimistic. If ayahuasca is being used for healing, for instance, there
is a strong possibility that, even if the criminal prohibitions are removed,
its distribution will become subject to stringent medical regulations; the
UK is not a society where just anyone can give out “unproven,” not to men-
tion powerfully psychoactive, substances and, indeed, there is legislation
in place to prevent just such occurrences in the form of the Medicines Act
1968. Taking a comparative approach, it is largely out of acknowledgment
of this hard reality that, in the US, the Multidisciplinary Association for
Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) is investing so much time and money in their
attempt to have psychedelics recognized as approved medicines, rather than
simply campaigning for the end of prohibition (MAPS, n.d.). While their
work is invaluable, it is suggested that, if at all possible, developing an
approach distinct from the medical model in the UK in relation to aya-
huasca would be highly desirable for multiple reasons, both pragmatic and
ideological.
Although ayahuasca is often referred to as a plant medicine, it is not
a medicine in the sense in which that term is typically understood in the
West; It is perhaps best understood as healing for the soul, and thus does
not fit easily into a largely secular society such as the UK, where the very
idea of the soul has been largely dispensed with (Labate & Cavnar, 2014c).
Although the former are commonly derived from the latter, pharmaceuti-
cals are prioritized over plants in Western medicine; perhaps, because they
are seen to be more predictable, more controllable, to have lost that element
of the wild that plants bring with them. Paradoxically, it may be this very
wildness that helps with plant medicine healing, with some cosmologies
attributing this to the intervention of the plant spirits, a dimension that is
markedly absent from synthetic medications (Doyle, 2011). By way of anal-
ogy, the situation has existed in the UK for a number of years whereby use
of cannabis in its natural form leaves one subject to criminal prosecution
under the MDA, whereas ingestion of Sativex, a botanical drug extracted
from cannabis and administered as an oral spray, is permitted, so long as it
has been prescribed by a doctor (GW Pharmaceuticals, 2021). It is perhaps
not irrelevant that, unlike pharmaceuticals, plants can be freely grown and
76 Charlotte Walsh
are not generally patentable (Houses of Parliament, 2016). Beyond safety,
this is about power and money; the power of the establishment, in which-
ever of its guises, to decide when, and indeed if, a substance can be ingested,
and the power of corporations to profit from that.
Of significance is the fact that ayahuasca cannot feasibly be turned into a
pill to be dispensed by a medical doctor; augmenting biochemical barriers
to this, its effect is inseparable from the context in which it is taken, sha-
manic, therapeutic, or otherwise. The magic of ceremony is about the aya-
huasca, but it is also about so much more: the intention of the individual in
drinking, the relationship between them and the shaman/healer, the sense
of community with others in the circle, the music, and so forth. To reiter-
ate and reinforce an earlier point, neither the natural nor the supernatural
dimensions of people’s ayahuasca experiences can be ignored, with those
who drink this brew typically perceiving themselves to be in relationship
not just with the plants, but with plant spirits; shamanic healing cannot
be forced into the same box as Western biomedicine, as there are entirely
different cosmologies at play here (Labate & Cavnar, 2018). What is more,
the temptation to try to gain credence by attempting to force it into the
incumbent medical model is not only untenable, but also, it is submitted,
misguided; for all its undeniably amazing achievements, Western medicine
has not been terribly successful when it comes to dealing with psychologi-
cal issues, as evidenced by the current crisis of epic proportions in mental
health (Hari, 2018), and remains largely unconcerned with spiritual ones.
An altogether different approach is therefore drastically needed.
This new direction might be embodied in a system of regulation of aya-
huasca distinct from either criminal prohibition or the medical model.
Regulation comprises a spectrum: from strict, compulsory, governmental
regulation, through to light-touch self-regulation, voluntarily ascribed to;
it is the latter that is being advocated for here. It is important to emphasize
that what change looks like will be strongly influenced by how the case
for such change is made. So, for instance, the most prominent drug policy
reform activism group in the UK, Transform, explicitly call in strict govern-
mental regulation as part of their bid to end prohibition (Transform, 2009).
While there is a certain pragmatism to such an approach, with it being
viewed as proffering the most realistic pathway to reform, it is important
to be careful what one wishes for; many of the current ayahuasca sha-
mans operating in the underground may be frozen out by such a system if
its requirements are, for instance, prohibitively expensive or exceptionally
tricky to comply with. Analogously, this has increasingly been seen in those
states in the US with newly legalized recreational cannabis markets, where
Big Pot is fast displacing those small farmers with a longstanding ideolog-
ical commitment to the plant, and this commercial model is increasingly
drawing criticism (Caulkins, 2017).
One of the few papers to discuss this issue of what a post-prohibition
regulatory system might look like, with a focus on psychedelics in general
rather than simply ayahuasca, is the interesting contribution by Haden and
others, which considers many of the issues that will need to be addressed,
proposing a public-health-based model (Haden et al., 2016). While the
authors are as much concerned with raising salient questions as with giving
definitive answers, one of the suggestions made is for a Psychoactive Sub-
stance Commission to be established that would oversee any new system of
regulation; there is also the recommendation that a College of Psychedelic
Supervisors might be created, with responsibility for such things as train-
ing and licensing (p. 246). The authors acknowledge that there are many
different styles of psychedelic provision and ingestion, and that, therefore,
trainings will need to be diverse; however, some level of standardization is
anticipated in terms of issues such as screening, consent, health, and safety,
and so forth. There would also likely be restrictions on how much of a sub-
stance can be taken and, perhaps, where this can take place.
Delving into just a selection of these issues in relation to the future regula-
tion of ayahuasca will demonstrate the complexities inherent in devising any
such system. For instance, if providers will require a license, this leads on to
important questions, such as: Who will be in charge of the licensing system?
What will it entail? And, crucially, what will happen to shamans practic-
ing without a license? Traditionally, shamanistic training in the Amazon
is bound up with what is often conceived of as a divine calling, with strong
lineages and lengthy apprenticeships, all of which is a far cry from complet-
ing a certificate course in shamanism (Labate & Cavnar, 2014a). Further,
many of those who hold ceremony in the UK are visiting, often indigenous,
shamans, and how they would fit into any regulatory system is something
that will need to be resolved; suffice it to say that any model that excludes the
originators of this work due to a different, Western, conception as regards
what constitutes training and legitimacy would be unacceptable.
Issues of power and authority are palpable here, as they also are in terms
of participants when it comes to questions such as, who will be screened
out and who will decide this. To illustrate the sensitivity of such matters,
from a Western perspective, it might seem uncontroversial to assume that
pregnant women and children will be prohibited from drinking ayahuasca;
however, this is certainly not the case in either indigenous ceremonies or the
syncretic churches that have emerged from them, who have used them with-
out evidence of deleterious effects (Labate, 2011). As another potentially
highly contentious example, there is the question of whether those with
mental health problems will be excluded from participating. While infor-
mal screening practices vary, ayahuasca ceremonies and healing sessions,
almost by definition, tend to involve those with issues in this realm, to
greater or lesser degrees, if only by virtue of the fact that they are attended
by humans. Scientific research can (partially) help with answering such
questions on an empirical rather than an ideological basis, with the risk
of the situation varying, depending upon the condition in question. For
instance, “data suggest that ayahuasca is, in principle, contraindicated
78 Charlotte Walsh
for people with grave psychiatric disorders, particularly those individuals
prone to psychosis” (ICEERS, 2017, p. 7). However, there are those whose
subjective experience has led them to believe that ayahuasca has therapeutic
potential for people with bipolar disorder (Mudge, 2017). So, even here,
there are no easy answers.
Beyond the detail of what regulation might look like, there are the bigger
questions, such as: How much regulation is desirable, whether or not this
should come from above or below, and whether or not compliance should be
compulsory or voluntary. An obligatory, heavily regulated, state-run system
will simply create an attenuated version of the current prohibitory model,
with its costs falling disproportionately upon those with less resources.
Again, an analogy can be drawn with developments in relation to cannabis
in the US, where corporate players are making huge amounts of money post
its legalization in certain states, while predominantly young, predominantly
Black suppliers who fall outside the new regime are still being prosecuted:
We must ask ourselves: What would it mean if we end up in a world

where psychedelics are legally accessible for a privileged few, while
communities who have historically suffered the worst harms of prohi-
bition remain criminalized? For social change to be truly transforma-
tional, mustn’t it lift up those who are the least privileged among us?
(Davies, 2017, pp. 38–39)
Relatedly, just as prohibitionist drug policy breaches human rights, so, too,
would an overly strict system of regulation. It is important to recognize that
there is always a trade-off; the more stringent any regulatory system, the
greater the likelihood that underground practices will continue to include
those—both practitioner and participant—who have been excluded. In the
context of the ayahuasca community, this is not necessarily a bad thing;
this world is a long way from the typical criminal black market in drugs,
and it is argued here that it is actually desirable that it continue in a close
approximation of its current forms, rather than trying too hard to replicate
a failing system.
With this in mind, perhaps the best approach would be one of decrimi-
nalization rather than legalization or regulation, accompanied by the rise
of practitioner groups, drawing up their own good practice guidelines that
could then be voluntarily ascribed to a bottom-up, rather than a top-down
model, shaped by those with experience. While it would undeniably be a
sea-change in policy to allow self-regulation of activities involving power-
ful psychoactive substances, especially in the context of a country such as
the UK with a blanket ban on such (Psychoactive Substances Act, 2016),
those currently working (illegally) with ayahuasca already, of necessity,
self-regulate, albeit in a disparate way.
More collaborative models of self-regulation exist and are in the process
of being developed yet further. For instance, ICEERS is an example of a
collective that is laying the foundations for a future of self-regulation in
the realm of plant medicines, focusing on protecting plant medicine prac-
tices, studying and promoting public policy based on scientific evidence and
human rights, and working creatively toward integrating plant medicines as
therapeutic tools in contemporary society (ICEERS, 2017). Such initiatives
are grounded in a recognition that it is important that plant medicine prac-
titioners hold themselves to high standards of conduct, perhaps enshrined
within codes of good practice. These will have the advantage of having been
built from the ground up and, even if state-acknowledged self-regulation
does not materialize, such protocols might at the very least feed into what-
ever system is imposed from above, rendering it more participatory.
History suggests that change will most likely come incrementally, driven
from below, with informal best practices emerging from grassroots move-
ments that are then, perhaps, formalized in some way. Indeed, this is the
route that some of the most notable successes in drug policy, more gener-
ally, have traveled in recent years: Think of the underground use—then
above-ground acceptance of—medical marijuana in the US (Bostwick,
2012); of the cannabis clubs in Spain, sprouting up at local level through
the loopholes in the law, now moving toward being formalized, on the basis
of which phenomenon it has been suggested that it is, perhaps, “better to
ask forgiveness than permission” (Sanchez & Collins, 2018). These devel-
opments serve as crucial reminders of the power of the underground, of
the fact that there is no need to wait for authorization from above to effect
transformation from below.
None of this is to suggest that it will be easy for ayahuasca providers
to self-regulate. There are many and varied ways of serving the brew, and
strongly held and often conflicting opinions, on contentious subjects such
as, for instance, the mixing of ayahuasca with other plant medicines: Any
codes that are devised would need to have a fluidity and a non-specificity
to them that allowed for contrasting worldviews by being pared down to
first principles.
Helpfully, ayahuasca has been drunk for a long time, meaning that
there is an accumulated wisdom that can feed into any future system of
self-regulation, drawing both from domestic practitioners, and beyond:
“The cultural regulation of psychedelics in nonprohibition contexts has
a rich anthropological history from which to draw lessons. Many indige-
nous societies have traditionally integrated the use of psychedelic prepara-
tions using time-tested ceremonial safeguards to minimize adverse effects”
(Haden et al., 2016, p. 245).
There is also an ugly legacy of Western imperialists violently repress-
ing such cultures that needs to be acknowledged, with every effort made
to avoid these societies being exploited yet further, ensuring that the global
South benefit, rather than suffer, from the upsurge of interest in ayahuasca
in the Global North. Further, it is of the utmost importance to protect
the plants that constitute ayahuasca, and the ecosystems in which they
80 Charlotte Walsh
grow: Sustainability issues are best addressed by working with local people
in the places where these plants are sourced (Moran, 2017). Beyond indig-
enous usage of plant medicines, countries such as Peru, where ayahuasca is
legal, also have a more recent history of ayahuasca retreats from which much
can be learned about good (and bad) practices (Labate & Cavnar, 2018).
In advocating for self-regulation, promotion of the benefits of aya-
huasca may be propitious, and, again, there is much that can be learned
from indigenous cultures here, where “virtually all… uses of psychedelics
throughout the centuries have been pro-social and linked with spirituality,
healing, and honoring seasonal and life transitions in the context of cohe-
sive community” (Haden et al., 2016, p. 245). Emerging modern scientific
research is also supportive of this positive narrative, with, to offer just a few
examples, emerging evidence that ayahuasca can help with addiction issues
(Bouso & Riba, 2014) and with previously treatment-resistant depression
(Palhano-Fontes et al., 2018). More broadly, research supports the poten-
tial of psychedelics in general for the enhancement of wellbeing, even in
healthy individuals (Elsey, 2017). Neuroscientists studying these substances
have postulated that they can help promote connectedness, rendering them
supremely important if one concurs with the view that the converse is at
the root of the major crises the human species is currently facing, whereby
many people are disconnected: from themselves, leading to depression;
from others, resulting in violence; and from the environment, a factor that
is bound up with the ongoing ecological cataclysm (Carhart-Harris et al.,
2018). However, while demonstrating benefit might prove pragmatically
useful, it is important not to lose sight of the fact that it should not be neces-
sary to justify a personal choice as regards what to ingest; just as there is no
need to show that it is beneficial to drink alcohol, nor overly onerous legal
requirements in place as to when, where, and by whom it can be drunk,
neither should this be the case for ayahuasca.
Nonetheless, it will become increasingly important for providers to think
about how they are presenting themselves and their activities to the outside
world, if and when the time comes to engage with it. In calling attention to
benefits, framing is significant; for instance, it is probably wise to present
these plants as tools that can help with self-realization, rather than as med-
icines, to thereby stand a better chance of avoiding both the stringencies
of medical regulation and allegations of quackery. Relatedly, practitioners
must be scrupulous in terms of the claims that they are making, avoiding
scientifically unproven assertions. It is important to remember that, even
in the lightest touch system of self-regulation imaginable, some minimal
form of state regulation will still be in place. So, for instance, products will
need to be what they claim to be, providers will owe a duty of care to their
clients. These are not merely moral issues but, rightly, legal realities;
people who don’t want their participation in the psychedelic market

to be regulated are out of luck, because all goods in commerce are
regulated in some way. Even when people are not being regulated
directly by government agencies, they can be “regulated” in private
lawsuits. Those claims are presented to and decided by the court sys-
tem, which is the state.
(Potter, 2018)
As an important aside, in thinking about regulation and the inevitable

resistance to it, in whatever guise it emerges, it is worth acknowledging
that there will be people of great integrity who do not want any form of
regulation, believing it will upset the alchemy of the transformational pro-
cesses they are engaged in, and there will be those who will object to such
regulation when it is arguable that they might benefit from more rigorous
oversight of some kind. Indeed, a big question for any collective of practi-
tioners is how to deal with the rogues that inevitably emerge in every field
and are perhaps especially dangerous in a setting where they are giving
powerful psychoactive materials to often vulnerable individuals. Where
these individuals breach the law, in terms of sexual assault, for instance,
there are criminal prohibitions in place to deal with this; where the breach
is more in the moral realm, such as not abiding by an agreed upon code
of ethics, there will be the option of the wider group first engaging with
the individual in question—maybe following the principles of a progres-
sive model of restorative justice—and, perhaps ultimately, excluding them
if they remain non-compliant. Under the recommended voluntary system,
this would not stop these providers from holding ceremony should partici-
pants still choose to drink with them, but would operate rather as a stamp
of approval, helping that decision to be a more informed one, where those
involved are more cognizant of the risks. And, of course, individuals may
choose to drink ayahuasca alone, or informally with friends, which may,
perhaps, be inadvisable, but should not be prosecutable. To put it another
way, attempts can be made to provide an appropriate container in which to
drink ayahuasca; but, should either practitioners or participants choose to
step outside that container, that should not invite criminalization, unless,
of course, it involves otherwise criminal acts. Risk is inherent in life, and
there has to be a point at which personal responsibility comes into play in
order to ensure freedom (Greene, 2016).
Concluding Thoughts
This chapter has considered two very different proactive approaches
whereby ayahuasca might be regulated. The first is through provision of
a license from the Home Office, leading to an exemption from the prohib-
itive drug laws. This strategy was attempted unsuccessfully by the UDV
and an analysis of the given reasoning behind why their application failed
proved disheartening. While, it is submitted, the human rights protections
embodied in the ECHR, if read as intended, should protect such religious
82 Charlotte Walsh
ceremonies, this has not happened in practice. The mistake, perhaps, is in
believing that the law is applied in an impartial and rational way, rooted in
scientific evidence and a true respect for human rights, whereas the reality
is that its interpretation is deeply political. It is worth remembering that
what is being played out here is simply the latest chapter in an age-old story,
whereby power is used to suppress the ingestion of plants by those who
believe that this allows direct communion with spirit (Forte, 2012).
The second approach considered is self-regulation by ayahuasca prac-
titioners, recognizing that this already takes place, albeit unofficially. The
possibilities for increased collaboration have been discussed, with full
acknowledgement of the complexities of such, with a view to a more for-
malized voluntary self-regulation perhaps becoming an adjunct to decrim-
inalization in the future. This has been asserted to be preferable to the end
of prohibition ushering in the beginning of strict governmental regulation,
whether medical or otherwise, premised on this author’s fundamental belief
that the state should play no role in determining what substances an individ-
ual chooses to ingest, thereby respecting human rights, such as to privacy,
to religion, and to freedom of thought. The position taken here is unapolo-
getically optimistic, even ideological; to have hope is both radical and vital
(Solnit, 2016). What is needed is a clear vision of what self-regulated best
practice with ayahuasca might look like, and to live fearlessly into that.
References
Beneficent Spiritist Center União do Vegetal v Secretary of State for the Home
Department. (2017). EWHC 1963 (Admin). https://www.casemine.com/
judgement/uk/5b2897c92c94e06b9e19af19
Bostwick, M. (2012). Blurred boundaries: The therapeutics and politics of medical
marijuana. Mayo Clinic Proceedings, 87(2), 172–186. doi: 10.1016/j.mayocp.
2011.10.003. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22305029/
Bouso, J. C., & Riba, J. (2014). Ayahuasca and the treatment of drug addiction. In
B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), The therapeutic use of ayahuasca (pp. 95–109).
Springer.
Mudge, B. (2017, July 18). Benjamin Mudge—The therapeutic potential of aya-
huasca for people with bipolar disorder [Video file]. https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=7GzOquPGZbc
Carhart-Harris, R., Erritzoe, D., Haijen, E., Kaelen, M., & Watts, R. (2018).
Psychedelics and connectedness. Psychopharmacology, 235(2), 547–550. https://
pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28795211/
Caulkins, J. (2017). Recognizing and regulating cannabis as a temptation good.
International Journal of Drug Policy, 42, 50–56. doi: 10.1007/s00213-017-
4701-y; https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28209284/
Davies, J. (2017). Psychedelic justice: How do we repair the harms of psychedelic
prohibition? MAPS Bulletin, 27(1), 38–39. https://maps.org/news/bulletin/
psychedelic-justice-how-do-we-repair-the-harms-of-psychedelic-prohibition/
Doyle, R. (2011). Darwin’s pharmacy: Sex, plants, and the evolution of the noo-
sphere. University of Washington Press.
Elsey, J. (2017). Psychedelic drug use in healthy individuals: A review of benefits,
costs, and implications for drug policy. Drug Science: Policy and Law, 3, 1–11.
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/2050324517723232
Feeney, K., Labate, B. C., & Hudson, J. (2018). Bubbling with controversy: Legal
challenges for ceremonial ayahuasca circles in the United States. In B. C. Labate &
C. Cavnar (Eds.), Plant medicines, healing and psychedelic science: Cultural per-
spectives (pp. 87–111). Springer.
Forte, R. (Ed.). (2012). Entheogens and the future of religion. Park Street Press.
Gonzales v. O Centro Espirita Beneficente União do Vegetal. (2006). 546 US 418.
Greene, B. (2016). Envisioning a sensible psychedelic drug policy. Psymposia.com.
https://www.psymposia.com /magazine/envisioning-a-sensible-psychedel-
ic-drug-policy/
GW Pharmaceuticals. (2021). Committed to making a difference. [Homepage].
https://www.gwpharm.com
Haden, M., Emerson, B., & Tupper, K. (2016). A public health based vision for
the management and regulation of psychedelics. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs,
48(4), 243–252. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/27430375/
Hall, H. (2011). “Cult” or religion? Teaching Theology & Religion, 14(4), 355–356.
Hari, J. (2018). Lost connections: Uncovering the real causes of depression – And
the unexpected solutions. Bloomsbury Publishing.
Houses of Parliament. (2016). Intellectual property and plants. http://www.ifst.org/
sites/default/files/PostNote%20Intellectual%20Property%20%26%20Plants.pdf
International Center for Ethnobotanical Education Research and Service (ICEERS).
(2017). Ayahuasca technical report 2017. ICEERS. https://www.iceers.org/
wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Ayahuasca_Technical_Report_ICEERS_2017_
ENG.pdf
International Narcotics Control Board (INCB). (2010). Report of the Interna-
tional Narcotics Control Board for 2010. INCB. https://www.incb.org/incb/en/
publications/annual-reports/annual-report-2010.html
Labate, B. C. (2011). Consumption of ayahuasca by children and pregnant women:
Medical controversies and religious perspectives. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs,
43(1), 27–35. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02791072.2011.56
6498
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2014a). Ayahuasca shamanism in the Amazon
and beyond. Oxford University Press.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2014b). Prohibition, religious freedom, and
human rights: Regulating traditional drug use. Springer.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2014c). The therapeutic use of ayahuasca.
Springer.
Marshall, J. (2009). Personal freedom through human rights law? Autonomy,
identity and integrity under the European Convention on Human Rights. Mar-
tinus Nijhoff Publishers.
Mill, J. S. (1869). On liberty. Longman, Roberts & Green.
Moran, K. (2017, October 2). Is ayahuasca really disappearing? Chacruna.net.
http://chacruna.net/ayahuasca-really-desappearing/
84 Charlotte Walsh
Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Science (MAPS). (n.d.). Mission
statement. https://maps.org/about-maps/mission/
Palhano-Fontes, F., Barreto, D., Onias, H., Andrade, K., Novaes, M., Pessoa, J.,
Mota-Rolim, S., Osorio, F., Sanches, R., Dos Santos, R., Tofoli, L., de Oliveira Sil-
veira, G., Yonamine, M., Riba, J., Santos, F., Silva-Junior, A., Alchieri, J., Galvao-
Coelho, N., Lobao-Soares, B., Hallak, J., Arcoverde, E., Maia-de-Olivera, J., &
Araujo, D. (2018). Rapid antidepressant effects of the psychedelic ayahuasca in
treatment-resistant depression: A randomized placebo-controlled trial. Psycho-
logical Medicine, 49(4), 655–663. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0033291718001356
Potter, N. (2018, January 8). Psychedelic markets of the future. Chacruna.net.
http://chacruna.net/psychedelic-markets-future/
R v Aziz. (2012). EWCA Crim 1063. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/
uploads/2017/07/Forston_Critical_Case_Comment_2012.pdf
Roper, M. (2015, October 1). Suicides, sects, murder and insanity: The disturb-
ing truth about the trendy ‘spiritual’ hallucinogenic brew being taken by gap
year backpackers in the Amazon (and even in British sitting rooms). Daily
Mail. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3253274/Suicides-sects-murder-
insanit y-disturbing-truth-trendy-spiritual-hallucinogenic-brew-taken-
gap-year-backpackers-Amazon-British-sitting-rooms.html
Sanchez, C., & Bouso, J. C. (2016). Ayahuasca: From the Amazon to the global
village. ICEERS/TNI. https://www.tni.org/en/publication/ayahuasca-from-the-
amazon-to-the-global-village
Sanchez, C., & Collins, M. (2018). Better to ask forgiveness than permission:
Spain’s sub-national approach to drug policy. Global Drug Policy Observatory.
http://fileserver.idpc.net/library/GDPO-PolicyBrief12-Spain%27s-Sub-national-
Approach-to-Drug-Policy-June2018.pdf
Solnit, R. (2016). Hope in the dark: Untold histories, wild possibilities. Haymarket
Books.
Southey, H., Weston, A., Bunting, J., & Desai, R. (2017). Judicial review: A prac-
tical guide. LexisNexis.
Taylor, S., Buchanan, J., & Ayres, T. (2016). Prohibition, privilege and drug apart-
heid: The failure of drug policy reform to address the underlying fallacies of drug
prohibition. Criminology and Criminal Justice, 16(4), 452–469. https://journals.
sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1748895816633274
Transform. (2009). After the war on drugs: Blueprint for regulation. Transform Drug
Policy Foundation. https://transformdrugs.org/publications/after-the-war-on-
drugs-blueprint-for-regulation
United Nations. (1977). Commentary on the convention on psychotropic sub-
stances, done at Vienna on February 21, 1971. United Nations. https://
www.unodc.org/documents/treaties/organized_crime/Drug%20Convention/
Commentary_on_the_Convention_1971.pdf
Walsh, C. (2014). Beyond religious freedom: Psychedelics and cognitive liberty. In
B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Prohibition, religious freedom, and human
rights: Regulating traditional drug use (pp. 211–233). Springer.
Walsh, C. (2017). Ayahuasca in the English courts: Legal entanglements with the
jungle vine. In B. C. Labate, C. Cavnar, & A. K. Gearin (Eds.), The world aya-
huasca diaspora: Reinventions and controversies (pp. 243–260). Routledge.
5 Santo Daime in Belgium and
the Netherlands
Prejudice, Pluralism, and the Daunting
Quest for Religious Freedom in Europe
Ben Meeus
Introduction: A Double Paradigm

Since 2001, the established legality of Santo Daime for the ICEFLU
churches1 of Céu dos Ventos and Céu da Santa Maria served as a bea-
con of hope for its practitioners in the Netherlands, Belgium, Europe,
and abroad. However, February 2018 marked a significant turning point.
After 17 years of lawful presence and practice, the previously estab-
lished religious freedom has suddenly been revoked. From one day to the
next, Santo Daime passed from being a genuine expression of faith to a
transnational organization involved in the international traffic of drugs.
Although this recent development is deplorable from a human rights per-
spective, it does not come as a huge surprise. Western civilizations have
a long history of promoting values or ideas that lead to—among various
other atrocities—the persecution of alternative practices with spiritual
and medicinal connotations. Such persecutions were and are always jus-
tified as a necessary “protective measure.” In certain cases, protective
measures are agreeable. Yet, agreement should always be based on reason,
and reason to criminalize the use of a natural substance by a religious
minority should always be based on an earnest evaluation of the facts
and context. Unfortunately, my studies confirm that such an evaluation
can easily be contaminated by the eye of the beholder. More concretely,
it shows that judges are liable to accept questionable evidence in support
of biases and prejudices towards such groups and their practices (Rich-
ardson, 2015, 2016; Meeus, 2017). These biases and prejudices, in their
turn, are intrinsically related to notions of “drugs” and “sects.” A double
paradigm that can also be observed in the actions of other state actors
and institutions in Belgium and the Netherlands. As such, to get a better
understanding of how the Belgian and Dutch cases around Santo Daime
have been handled, it serves to first deconstruct and contextualize these
notions.
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-6 85
86 Ben Meeus
The Drug War Paradigm
The 1971 Convention on Psychotropic Substances (1971

Convention)
In line with the previously established objectives of international drug
control, the 1971 Convention serves to further “combat addiction,” which
the international community marked as an “evil” (Single Convention on
Narcotics, 1961). In particular, the growing concern of the epidemic
spread of the abuse of psychoactive substances gave way to this instru-
ment, as it would safeguard “public health and social problems resulting
from the abuse” (United Nations Convention on Psychotropic Substances,
1971). Among a list of 31 substances, N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT)
has been classified as a Schedule I controlled substance, obliging signing
member states to criminalize activities involving its manufacturing, pos-
session, transport, sale, etc. This, while reducing the use of these sub-
stances to “legitimate purposes.” However, as the convention marks a
compromise between pharmaceutical interests and member states, the
legitimacy of non-medical psychoactive substance use is non-existent.
Furthermore, it is argued that the Conventions assume that traditional
cultures, such as those using ayahuasca, will never extend their prac-
tices and influence to other populations and territories (Labate & Feeney,
2014; Sánchez & Bouso, 2015). This obviously no longer falls in line with
today’s reality.
The Ayahuasca Diaspora

The Ayahuasca Defense Fund at the International Center for Ethnobotanical
Education Research and Service (ICEERS) found that, between 1999 and
2008, only ten criminal proceedings concerning ayahuasca were known in
five countries. Since then, legal cases have increased by 1,100% and spread
out over 23 countries (ICEERS, 2017). This confirms a phenomenon that
certain academics refer to as the “ayahuasca diaspora,” or the fast spread
of people and organizations offering the beverage outside its natural habitat
in the Amazon (Labate & Loures de Assis, 2017). This potentially leads to
the commercialization of the beverage and its administration without due
regard for ethical standards (Meeus, 2017; Peluso, 2017). A quick search on
Google reveals over a dozen websites and Facebook pages offering ayahuas-
ca-sessions outside any indigenous, religious, or therapeutically accred-
ited context within the Netherlands, where prices range from 140 euros
to 1,500 euros. Obviously, such trends generate a legitimate health and
safety concern for authorities, resulting in apprehensions and confiscations.
Yet, to what extent do such concerns and actions remain legitimate, and
when does it become a flagrant misconception resulting in human rights
violations?
Santo Daime in Belgium and the Netherlands 87
A Belief System
A 25-year-long process involving multidisciplinary working groups (GMTs)
and cooperative dialogue led to creation of a legal and ethical framework
around the use of ayahuasca in Brazil. In doing so, it was clearly denied that
its users hallucinate. The GMT objectively explored both risks and benefits,
characterizing ayahuasca as a “tool” traditionally used to search for the sacred
and self-knowledge (CONFEN, 1987; Tupper, 2008; Blainey, 2015). So far,
this understanding has not yet permeated other legal spheres in Europe, where
criminalization is on the rise. Considering that ayahuasca only contains a
small amount of less than one gram of DMT per litre and is proven to be non-
toxic and non-addictive, various authors have already criticized such trends
globally. Tupper rightly points out that the current international drug control
regime is a “belief system” that “fostered a peculiar discursive frame deeply
entrenched in much of civil society, a drug war paradigm that seems to pre-
clude ready comprehension, appreciation, and toleration of entheogenic prac-
tices such as ceremonial ayahuasca drinking” (Tupper, 2011, p. 130). Indeed,
modern drug laws and policies tend to be ontologically predicated, leading
to the denial of cultural constructions that refer to ayahuasca as a medicine,
a sacrament, and a “plant teacher” (Tupper, 2008). As a result, little to no
distinction is made between psychoactive substances such as cocaine, opium,
THC, DMT, psilocybin, etc., that are considered to be inherently harmful or
hallucinogenic. Yet, the scientific and rational foundations for these indistinct
presumptions are based on a lack of evidence and contextualization (Meeus,
2017). As such, the pursuit of a drug-free world through a zero-tolerance
approach, in practice, easily subordinates other primary goals of modern
states and the United Nations (Barret, 2010; Crick, 2012).
The “Sect” Paradigm
New Religious Movements (NRMs) and Harmful Sectarian

Organizations (HSOs)
Though Santo Daime essentially promotes and teaches Christian values,
the context and beverage are “foreign” elements that find no reference in
the cultural framework of European countries. As such, concerns arise as
to whether this NRM (intentionally or not) causes harm to individuals or
society. While this does reflect another legitimate concern, one should be
careful in applying the word “sect” in this discussion. Such a categorization
“instantly dehumanizes the adepts of a religion” and is “laden with pejora-
tive connotations that skew people’s abilities to judge a religious group on
its own merits” (Olson, 2006, p. 97).
A single definition of what a “sect” constitutes does not exist, and the
word only came to have a negative connotation through media and other
88 Ben Meeus
scientific publications (Van Wijk et al., 2013). I observed this throughout
my studies as, for example, the Brazilian GMTs responsible for studying
ayahuasca adopted the term “sect” as a neutral term (Meeus, 2017). This
confirms Giumbelli’s observation that the lack of definition on what a “sect”
constitutes can be explained through the lack of clear terms that are sup-
posed to set the limits of what freedom of religion constitutes. These terms
are constructed on a case-by-case basis through historical processes that,
depending on the different factors, socially construct these limits within a
given society (Giumbelli, 2002). Such is definitely the case in Europe, where
no common definition of religious communities and their freedoms exists.
Every country challenges the European Human Rights Framework on reli-
gious freedom in its own particular way (Ferrari, 2006; Meeus, 2017). To
that regard, various authors have referred critically to France, Germany,
and Belgium as particularly rigorous in their control, surveillance, and per-
secution of “sects” (Fautré, 2010; Blainey, 2013; Richardson, 2015). The
Netherlands, in general, seem to be more open and tolerant towards NRMs.
A Belgian Perspective
The Belgian side of the story allows for an interesting perspective when
studying the fine line between tolerance of NRMs and prohibition of HSOs.
In the aftermath of a collective suicide of 74 members of the Temple Solaire
in Switzerland, a Belgian Parliamentary Commission of Investigation was
instigated in 1996. According to Torfs, its report, entitled Parliamentary
Inquiry to Develop a Policy to Combat Illegal Sects and The Danger They
Pose to Society and to Persons, Especially Minors, is characterized by a
genuinely negative attitude towards NRMs (Torfs, 2005). Nonetheless, fol-
lowing its recommendations, both a Center of Information and an Admin-
istrative Co-ordination Unit had been created through new legislation on
June 2, 1998 (Belgium, 1998). It also provides for the current operational
definition of what a HSO is, namely
1 A group with a philosophical or religious vocation, or pretending so,

that, in its organization and practice, delivers itself to harmful illegal
activities, harms individuals, or damages human dignity.
2 The harmful nature of a sectarian organization is examined on the
basis of the principles contained in the Constitution, the laws, the
decrees, and regulations, and the international conventions for the pro-
tection of human rights ratified by Belgium.
(Article 2, Law of June 2, 1998)
Such a definition holds a potential danger. A general rule, that seems neu-
tral at face value, might put an NRM—often religious minorities—in a
seemingly illegal situation to begin with. Such is the case with Santo Daime.
Considering that DMT is prohibited, the harmful nature of their activities
might be considered “proven,” making it a HSO by definition. Furthermore,
such definitions “focus mainly on the harm these movements can provoke,
but in doing so, they end up with definitions that can apply equally well to
other groups and organizations, including mainstream religions” (Ferrari,
2006, p. 6). Luckily, the second paragraph does warrant an assessment
with respect for international human rights obligations, which should avoid
an overly rapid stigmatization of NRMs. Also, following the parliamentary
commission’s work, a (non-exhaustive) set of criteria were elaborated, of
which the global evaluation should serve as an indication of the harmful
character of a sectarian organization (Denaux, 2002). 2
Santo Daime as a Harmful Religion?

During a meeting with a legal representative of the Belgian Advice Center
on HSOs, at no time has Santo Daime been depicted as harmful. Instead, it
was explicitly stated that more scientific evidence is needed to consider aya-
huasca as a danger to public health, and that in these terms, “the real dan-
ger is the massive criminalization of such practices” (Meeus, 2017). Indeed,
it seems that the most imminent and potential danger is that any individual
might choose to “start up” a Santo Daime church under false pretexts.
Especially in the absence of any legal framework, such “churches” are likely
to do harm without any repercussions. Regrettably, victims would be more
likely to refrain from going to the police, as they would fear the stigma of
being considered “drug users.” Having this in mind, I advise caution in
projecting the harmful actions of a single person on an entire religious com-
munity comprised of people who are genuinely trying to live up to their reli-
gious beliefs and ideals. Any Santo Daime church can become harmful, but
Santo Daime, in itself, is not. Just as one paedophile priest does not make
the Holy See a paedophile organization, and just as one Muslim terrorist
does not make the entire Muslim community terrorists (Meeus, 2017).
The European Convention on Human Rights
A Normative Counterweight
The potential harmfulness of the use of ayahuasca by Santo Daime shows
an intrinsic relation between questions of a) drug control, b) NRMs and
HSOs and c) human rights law. As can be observed in the Belgian definition
of HSOs, the latter serves as a normative counterweight to the drug conven-
tions (Elliot et al., 2005; Barrett, 2010). Both the Belgian and Dutch consti-
tution protect the right to religious freedom; a right that is also enshrined
in International and European Law, in particular, article 18 of the Interna-
tional Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and article 9 of the
European Convention of Human Rights (hereafter, Human Rights Conven-
tion). The norms of this last convention prevail over national regulations,
90 Ben Meeus
and are guarded by a European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). This
Court serves as a last-resort for groups or individuals whose religious rights
have (supposedly) been violated by member states.
The Right to Religious Freedom within the EU: A Democratic,

Pluralist and Inclusive Search for Balance through Dialogue and
Compromise
In its recent case law, the ECHR’s Grand Chamber has marked religious
freedom as:
one of the foundations of a “democratic society” within the meaning of

the Convention. This freedom is, in its religious dimension, one of the
most vital elements that go to make up the identity of believers and their
conception of life…. The pluralism indissociable from a democratic
society, which has been dearly won over the centuries, depends on it.
(S.A.S. v. France [GC], no. 43835/11, § 124, ECHR, 2014b)
To that regard, it stresses the need to create appropriate conditions in which

the religious identity of each person belonging to a national minority can be
expressed, preserved, and developed.
Thus, in the ECHR’s view, pluralism does not only entail a respect or mere
tolerance of diversity, but also requires a more active and inclusive approach
(Ouald Chaib, 2015). While considering limitations to the right to religious
freedom, the ECHR further notes that “a balance must be achieved which
ensures the fair treatment of people from minorities and avoids any abuse
of a dominant position” and adds that “it is precisely this constant search
for a balance between the fundamental rights of each individual which con-
stitutes the foundation of a democratic society.” As this search for balance
warrants both pluralism and democracy, the Court further stresses that it
must be based on “dialogue and a spirit of compromise” (S.A.S. v. France
[GC], no. 43835/11, § 128, ECHR, 2014b). In any case, the ECHR also
emphasizes that the State’s duty of neutrality and impartiality is “incompat-
ible with any power of the State’s part to assess the legitimacy of religious
beliefs or the ways in which those beliefs are expressed” (Eweida & Others
v. the UK, nos. 48420/10, 59842/10, 51671/10 and 36516/10, § 81, ECHR,
2013a). This is especially important in cases involving religious minorities
with “atypical” practices, such as Santo Daime.
The Legal Cases around Santo Daime in Belgium
The Apprehension of César

In 2011, a complaint was launched against César, a facilitator of an aya-
huasca meditation group with the Federal Police’s anti-terrorism brigade,
which has a separate group for “Harmful Sectarian Organizations” (here-
after, HSO-police). One can see that the decision to task a police directorate
with both HSOs and terrorist organizations exemplifies Belgium’s rigorous
control and surveillance on the matter of NRMs. The facilitator informed
them of the existence of other groups using ayahuasca, including the Santo
Daime churches of Belgium. This seems to have led them to investigate
both Casa de Cura Mestre Irineu and Céu da União, whose cases I shortly
elaborate below, highlighting the most prominent legal issues in my view.
Casa de Cura Mestre Irineu (CdCMI): The Stance of the

HSO-Police
This church, led by a Brazilian/Belgian couple, was formally founded in
Belgium around 2007. After César’s apprehension, CdCMI immediately
registered their church in the Netherlands and ended all their church activ-
ities in Belgium out of fear for legal repercussions. Nonetheless, three
months after, they were called upon by the Belgian HSO-police. In the
encounter that followed between them, the HSO-Police had told them that
ayahuasca is illegal because of the forbidden nature of DMT. Still, my stud-
ies have clearly shown that there is no indication whatsoever—based on
the preparatory works of the international and national drug legislation—
that ayahuasca is a prohibited substance or constitutes a danger to public
health, a fortiori, because it is a non-toxic and non-addictive substance
(Meeus, 2017). It would have been up to a judge to decide upon the illegal
nature of ayahuasca. Yet, no fair trial had been given to this church, pos-
sibly in violation with article 6 of the Human Rights Convention. Second,
the HSO-police told them they had every right to practise their religion,
just not to drink and distribute ayahuasca. Obviously, such a statement
goes against the State’s duty of neutrality and impartiality and shows a lack
of understanding on the essential and sacred nature of ayahuasca for the
Santo Daime religion. Subsequently, instead of accepting the invitation to
attend and observe a Santo Daime work, they conducted a house search.
According to the Brazilian/Belgian couple, this felt like sacrilege. All the
above-mentioned implies that Santo Daime had, prima facie, been consid-
ered an HSO.
The Stance of the Public Ministry

The stance of the HSO-police and the Belgian Public Ministry do not
seem to differ too much. Their 2012 annual report mentions that the Fed-
eral Prosecution held a meeting on May 7, entitled Sectarian Movement
Which Engages in the Distribution of Ayahuasca (Drugs) (Belgian Pub-
lic Ministry, 2012). It is likely that Santo Daime is being referenced. In
any case, the double paradigm of drugs and sects becomes visible again,
perhaps most shockingly in a communication of the Public Ministry to a
92 Ben Meeus
Belgian newspaper reporting on Santo Daime. In the article, a spokesper-
son implied that religious freedom is ostensibly invoked to cover-up drug
use: “What if tomorrow there is a religion claiming that the use of heroin
is essential?” (Het Laatste Nieuws, 2015). This is a clear example of the
ontological rigidity in drug policy, based on the belief that all “drugs” are
equally harmful, dangerous, and addictive (Tupper, 2008). Following this
reasoning within the current Belgian legislation, the Public Ministry also
implies that Santo Daime is an HSO.
The Legal Case Concerning ICEFLU

Losing a Case Before It Begins. Following César’s apprehension, a Belgian
ICEFLU church called Céu da União (CdU), founded in 1985, had two
shipments of ayahuasca intercepted. The confiscation came together with
a notice of the criminal charges pending against the church leader (here-
after, Mr. X), being the “import, possession, and delivery” of DMT. The
Court of First Instance, Appeal, and Cassation all confirmed these charges
in cases between 2014 and 2016. However, an extensive analysis of the
arguments of the Belgian courts implies that a value judgement had already
been passed on Santo Daime before an assessment of the case (Meeus,
2017). In its first paragraph, the Court of First Instance mentions that the
“defendants did not dispute having imported… ayahuasca tea containing
DMT from Brazil, and this in the context of… Santo Daime, in which the
consumption of the ayahuasca tea belongs to the essential sacred sacrament
of the worship” (Correctional Court of Bruges, 2014). As such, the defend-
ants are seemingly put into a position where they did not “dispute” having
done something “illegal” (which remained to be questioned). The fact that
they did so because of the essential nature of their sacrament in religious
worship is subsequently not treated as an informative fact, but as a justifi-
cation for their prima facie illegal acts.
Afterwards, the courts all classified ayahuasca as an illegal substance, in
complete neglect of the ratio legis behind national and international drug
legislation (Meeus, 2017). In doing so, it implied that ayahuasca is addic-
tive and harmful. By the mere fact thereof, Santo Daime could already be
classified as an HSO. This legally inadequate review of Belgian legislation
subsequently makes way for the first mindboggling argument of the court,
namely, that “the users of this tea hallucinate,” without any subsequent
proof, reference, or explanation thereof. It’s no rocket science that the
court’s reasoning starts off flawed, and the subsequent analysis of expert
reports is taunted in a way that questionable evidence is allowed in support
of the biases and prejudices of its judges.
Toxicity and Non-Comparable Alternatives. Though there is a broad
consensus that the use of ayahuasca is physiologically safe, the court
deliberately choose to emphasize that “real” studies have proven the
toxicity of ayahuasca. However, in doing so, they made reference to a
15-year-old study in which strong doses of harmaline—an alkaloid found in
ayahuasca—were administered to rats or mice. To strengthen their argu-
ment, reference was also made to both a report of the Belgian Advice
Center on HSOs, and an expert report of a clinical toxicologist Dr. F. A. de
Wolff. In both reports, reference is made to the possibility of more serious
symptoms of acute toxicity, which include a rise in blood pressure and body
temperature, accelerated heart rate and respiration, dilation of pupils, etc.
Yet, in highlighting these effects as proven negative risks, the court failed
to mention, twice, the conclusions of both reports. One mentions that these
effects “remain within normal parameters.” The other concludes that “it is
not plausible, on the basis of existing scientific knowledge, that ayahuasca
consumption forms a threat to public health” (de Wolff, 2000; Informatie
en Adviescentrum inzake Schadelijke Sektarische Organisaties [IACCSO],
2009–2010). From a procedural perspective, the neglect of such crucial sci-
entific conclusions within the court’s assessment borders on the deliberate
manipulation of information and, in any case, amounts to a serious der-
eliction of duty. Finally, then, the courts made some legitimate remarks,
such as the fact that non-standardized preparations of ayahuasca make it
impossible to always have the same level of toxicity. Surely, an earnest dia-
logue and cooperation between the Santo Daime churches and national
authorities could mitigate such minor issues.
Non-Comparable Alternative. However, a clear message of exclusion
and prohibition is sent out, making it unlikely that judges were earnestly
trying to safeguard the right to religious freedom. Right after reaffirm-
ing the decision in First Instance, one of the appeal judges unsympatheti-
cally proposed—in open court—that the church leader could “subscribe to
yoga.” Such a non-comparable alternative can easily be regarded as offen-
sive towards a holder of deep, existential convictions whose rights were just
stripped away.
Exile. As a result of the above-mentioned cases, both CdCMI and
CdU moved their churches to the Netherlands. The general understand-
ing, even among academics, is (or rather, was) that Santo Daime is legal
there (see Labate & Assis, 2017). However, since 2001, only two Santo
Daime churches were explicitly recognized through legal proceedings.
As such, both Belgian churches moved to the Netherlands to find them-
selves exiled into a legal limbo. From 2017 to 2018, I have twice con-
tacted the chief of the HSO-police to discuss my questions and findings.
On both occasions, through the phone, he referred to the legal case of
CdU (implying that the case is closed successfully), and that DMT is a
prohibited substance (implying that ayahuasca is a prohibited substance).
After expressing my disagreement, I have also sent him my thesis through
mail, asking for an opportunity to meet or have a written response. As I
have not received any reply, my above-mentioned analysis stands, and the
legal cases around Santo Daime in Belgium are taunted by human rights
violations.
94 Ben Meeus
The Legal Cases around Santo Daime in the Netherlands
Introduction
Céu dos Ventos (CdV) and Céu da Santa Maria (CdSM) are two ICEFLU
churches situated in the Netherlands. They were founded in 1999, and are
led by Dutch people. The legal proceedings concerning the legal status of
their churches are briefly discussed below. As this concerns over 17 years
of legal battle, the infographic below gives an overview of the proceedings
discussed.
The Fijneman Case

In October 1999, an ongoing ritual of CdSM was raided by the Dutch
police. These events followed both a police raid in Germany and a tip from
Interpol on a “dangerous Brazilian drug-sect.” The Dutch Public Prosecutor
declared that it was a case involving the use of hard drugs under the guise
of a religious conviction (Trouw, 2001). However, according to one of the
church leaders, they quickly realized Santo Daime was a genuine religious
manifestation, and offered to drop the case. The church decided not to
accept this and, instead, pursued a clear verdict of the judiciary regarding
their religious freedom. This verdict had been given by the District Court
of Amsterdam in 2001, which argued that the Public Prosecution had not
put forward any concrete facts and circumstances that would prove a con-
siderable danger to public health in this specific case. Through its analysis
of expert reports, the court acknowledged that ayahuasca is essential to the
Santo Daime church, and that its consumption always takes place commu-
nally, within a ritual framework.
While the Public Prosecution argued that a restriction on religious
freedom was warranted due to the prohibition of DMT in national and
international legislation, the judge rightly affirmed that “the court must
assess in concrete terms” whether such limitations are justified.3 And so,
the mere existence of a prohibition through national law is insufficient to
justify an infringement on the right to religious freedom.4 In its judgement,
the court paid special attention to the expert report of clinical toxicologist
Dr. de Wolff. As such, it objectively acknowledged the expert’s conclusion
that, within the context of Santo Daime, it is not possible to conclude that
ayahuasca consumption forms a danger to public health (de Wolff, 2000;
District Court of Amsterdam, 2001). After this judgement, in 2011, the
churches had sent letters of cooperation to the Public Ministry on three
different occasions. This was in order to establish a mutually beneficial
agreement on an insightful arrangement and registration on the import of
ayahuasca for the churches. They received no responses.
The Franklin-Beentjes Case

At the same time, in 1999, the police had also raided the house of Frank-
lin-Beentjes, confiscating a quantity of ayahuasca. Though proceedings had
been discontinued, she filed a complaint requesting the return in 2005, men-
tioning that ayahuasca was necessary to practise her religion, Santo Daime.
Yet, during a hearing in December 2005, Franklin-Beentjes had stated “I
can also practice my religion without ayahuasca.” As such, in January 2006,
the Court of Appeal of Amsterdam dismissed her complaint, considering
that she could continue practising her religion without ayahuasca. Yet, in
doing so, the court (just as in the Belgian case of CdU) neglected the final
conclusions of Dr. de Wolff’s expert report and stated instead that “the use
of ayahuasca can have unwanted effects of mild nature, such as nausea, but
also more serious symptoms of toxicity, such as raised blood pressure and
heartbeat…. The use of ayahuasca is therefore a danger to public health”
(Court of Appeal of Amsterdam, 2006).
Besides the fact that the court neglects the most important scientific
conclusion of a clinical expert, it afterwards, perhaps unwittingly, enters
into a theological assessment on Santo Daime. It stated that the limita-
tion of the religious freedom of Franklin-Beentjes cannot be regarded as
disproportionate, as ayahuasca is not essential for practising her religion.
Yet, if the court accepts that this case concerns a Santo Daime church, but
considers that ayahuasca is not essential to the religion of Franklin-Beent-
jes, this comes down to a contradiction in terms. It is safe to say that
Santo Daime had already attained a “certain level of cogency, serious-
ness, cohesion, and importance.” Therefore, the State is not allowed to
“assess the legitimacy of religious beliefs or the ways in which those beliefs
96 Ben Meeus
are expressed” (Eweida & Others v. the UK, nos. 48420/10, 59842/10,
51671/10 and 36516/10, ECHR, 2013a). However, in exceptional cases the
ECHR accepts that, through factual findings, one can question whether
religious claims are genuine and sincerely held (Skugar a.o. v. Russia, no.
40010/04, ECHR, 2009). This should have been better evaluated.
In complete disregard for the general principles of article 9 of the

Human Rights Convention, the Supreme Court verified the above-
mentioned decision, accepting the advisory opinion of the Public Pros-
ecution. It reasoned that any practice involving ayahuasca is prohibited
because of the prohibition of DMT, and this for public health reasons,
even if there is no significant danger to public health; again, a contra-
diction in terms. Extra weight was added to this decision because of the
statement of Franklin-Beentjes (Netherlands Supreme Court, 2007).
The Valousek Case

Armed with the previous decisions of the Franklin-Beentjes case, the Pub-
lic Ministry decided to start confiscating the ayahuasca of the ICEFLU
churches. In the Valousek case of 2012, the District Court of Haarlem took
note of the Supreme Court’s decision, yet argued—rightly so—that the
ECHR demands a concrete examination on the case. As such, it observed
that the Public Prosecutor had not submitted any further facts, views or
circumstances that would invalidate the conclusions of Dr. de Wolff. It then
concluded that “the import of the ayahuasca tea is assured with safeguards
and that no notable health risks are attached to the ritual consumption
of the ayahuasca tea within the closed gatherings of the church commu-
nity” (District Court of Haarlem, 2009). In the appeal procedure, the same
arguments were held by the Public Prosecutor, again with specific refer-
ence to the Supreme Court case of 2009. Yet, the Court of Appeal stated
that the Supreme Court attached importance to the statements of Franklin-
Beentjes, and that its considerations have to be viewed in that light. During
the trial, the executive director of the Brazilian mother church of Céu do
Mapiá (ICEFLU), Alex Polari, had flown to the Netherlands to testify that
the church of Franklin-Beentjes “is not part of the official Santo Daime
church ICEFLU” (Van Der Plas, 2017). After affirming that article 9 of
the Human Rights Convention demands an in concreto assessment of the
case, the Court reaffirmed the religious freedom of Santo Daime (Court of
Appeal of Amsterdam, 2012).
Franklin-Beentjes at the European Court of Human Rights

In the meantime, Franklin-Beentjes had filed an application concerning
her case to the ECHR, which had been declared inadmissible as mani-
festly ill-founded (Franklin-Beentjes and CEFLU-Luz da Floresta v. the
Netherlands, no 28167/07, ECHR, 2007a). It considered that the Dutch
courts were entitled to consider the prohibition was “necessary” on the
grounds that (a) DMT is nationally and internationally prohibited, and
(b) the consumption of ayahuasca causes known effects. However, it is very
important to underline that the ECHR, in declaring the case inadmissible,
carried out an abstract summary check on whether the Dutch court was
able to reach its decision based on national regulations. In doing so, the
ECHR distanced itself from reviewing the facts and from providing a sub-
stantive judgement on the merits of the case. As a result, it grants a wide
margin of appreciation to national courts to concretely examine and weigh
religious freedom against public health considerations on a case-by-case
basis. This opinion of the ECHR was to be expected. Because of its enor-
mous workload, the ECHR declared over 97% of the cases inadmissible in
2014 (ECHR, 2014a). Furthermore, when it comes to cases involving the
nexus between religious freedom and drug control, where the consensus or
“common ground” between the European member states is hard to find,
the decision of the national judge is left to their own discretion and is,
therefore, virtually unlimited. This means that it remains unlawful for any
national court to perform an abstract or general assessment when article
9 of the Human Rights Convention is involved, which demands a concrete
assessment of each case.
The (“Make It or Break It”) Van Dorsten A.O. Case

The third affirmation of religious freedom. Of course, the Public Prosecu-
tor interpreted the ECHR’s decision of inadmissibility as an explicit con-
sideration of ayahuasca as a danger to public health. As such, armed with
their blatantly wrong interpretations of the cases around Franklin-Beentjes
and the general principles of article 9 of the Human Rights Convention,
they continue their crusade against the Santo Daime church. Between 2012
and 2016, on six occasions, they confiscated ayahuasca destined for CdV
and CdSM. In September 2016, then, the District Court of Haarlem again
reaffirmed the religious freedom of Santo Daime, and this time, after a
more extensive examination on the churches, its members, the information
given to and asked from visitors, the transport, storage, and administration
of ayahuasca, etc. (District Court of Haarlem, 2016). After the judgement,
the churches again sent a letter of cooperation to the Public Ministry that,
for the third time, remained unanswered. Instead, the Public Prosecutor
filed an appeal that, due to a preemptive lawsuit, would be judged on Feb-
ruary 28, 2018.
Self-regulatory action CLAREIA. By lack of cooperation with public
authorities, and awaiting the appeal case, the churches created an “umbrella
foundation” called the Centre for the Legal Assessment of the Religious
and Ethical Integration of Ayahuasca (CLAREIA). Clareia is Portuguese
for “to clarify, brighten” and, as the name indicates, the foundation is a
98 Ben Meeus
self-regulatory effort with the triple purpose to a) unite and protect legit-
imate ayahuasca churches that b) abide by ethical and legal standards to
safeguard the sacred character of ayahuasca, and c) offer full cooperation
to authorities. Substantial efforts had been made by legal experts to con-
textualize both “hard” and “soft” requirements of admission5 (as either
“full” or “aspiring” members) within International and European Human
Rights law. As such, the requirements are more concrete, elaborate, and
demanding than those found in the Brazilian regulation. CLAREIA would
be overseen by a board of three legal experts, me included.
Prohibition of Santo Daime. It is quite surprising, then, that the Court of
Appeal of Amsterdam argues that “the use of ayahuasca within the church,
and the way it is obtained, imported and stored is insufficiently controlla-
ble.” In doing so, it mentions that, “even if the court would consider the
report of prof. de Wolff, the undesired effects therein mentioned would not
be controllable after taking ayahuasca, considering the current size of the
churches.”6 Besides the fact that this is pure speculation, the court further
argues that (a) the doses of ayahuasca and their toxicity are hard to define,
that (b) the screening conversations with visitors are not held by medics
or trained personnel, and (c) that they can’t rule out that certain people
visit the church simply to “use the product.” Though legitimate, these
concerns could be mitigated through earnest dialogue and cooperation.
However, the court further considers that the system of import, transport,
storage, and administration of ayahuasca is not trustworthy enough, and
concludes that the “strongly increased interest of ayahuasca use outside the
religious setting” further justifies prohibition (Court of Appeal of Amster-
dam, 2018).
Rejection of Appeal and Inadmissibility: The Final Blows. In October
2019, the Supreme Court rejected an appeal from the Santo Daime church
with the central consideration being that “the assessment of the necessity
of the infringement [on freedom of religion] in a democratic society does
not always require a case-by-case consideration, but a general assessment
suffices” (Supreme Court, 2019). Invoking the 2014 ECHR decision in the
case of Franklin-Beentjes, the Supreme Court wrongfully concludes that
the Court of Appeal of Amsterdam could determine that the prohibition of
Santo Daime was necessary to protect public health, by the mere fact that
the Opium Law prohibited DMT.
It is shocking that the Supreme Court rules that a concrete examination
on a case-by-case basis is not always required, which clearly violates due
process and article 9 of the Human Rights Convention. The core task of
any court, even more so when human rights are at play, is to arrive at a “fair
balance” between the legitimate interests involved and to administer the
law impartially. That is why Lady Justice is blindfolded, and the symbols of
the judiciary are the scale and the sword. Yet, it seems the Supreme Court
has dropped the scale and blindly chopped away its sword to provide a final
blow to the religious freedom of Santo Daime in the Netherlands.
As to be expected, the subsequent application by the ICEFLU churches
before the ECHR in October 2020, was declared inadmissible as manifestly
ill-founded by a single judge. Considering that the ECHR had previously
ruled that it would leave these types of cases to the national courts (see the
case of Franklin-Beentjes), the application did not receive much attention.
This effectively leaves the Santo Daime church of the Netherlands without
any further legal recourse at European level to claim their right to religious
freedom.
Legal Floundering in Denmark and Beyond?

It bears mentioning that the inadmissibility decision by the ECHR in the
Franklin-Beentjes case can have serious implications—intentional or not—
beyond Dutch borders too. In Denmark, for example, the Supreme Court,
in 2017, argued that national authorities did not violate article 9 of the
Human Rights Convention when prohibiting the import of ayahuasca by
a Santo Daime church. It justified this decision by referencing the Frank-
lin-Beentjes case of 2014, noting that the ECHR has judged that the pro-
hibition of ayahuasca was anchored in the need to protect public health
and order. The Danish Supreme Court completely ignored the fact that the
ECHR declared that case inadmissible as manifestly ill-founded, and there-
fore did not get around to reviewing the facts and making its own substan-
tive judgement. Yet, a senior researcher of the Danish Institute for Human
Rights seems to commend the Danish judiciary for their compliance with
ECHR case law, which is unfortunate and erroneous (Lassen, 2020).
The sad part, yet again, is that this case involves real life and law-abiding
citizens being denied the right to practise their religion within an increas-
ingly narrow space for legal recourse. In the meantime, the spaces in which
legal recourse is possible would do well to not replicate ongoing injustices
by interpreting or copy-pasting erroneous legal reasonings. As observed
in the case of Santo Daime in the Netherlands and Denmark, this type of
legal floundering violates article 9 of the Human Rights Convention under
the guise of “good compliance” with ECHR case law and, consequently,
perpetuates ongoing human rights violations against religious minorities in
the European Union.
Reflections on Personal Autonomy and Less

Restrictive Means
This article highlights that, in Belgium and the Netherlands, the religious
use of ayahuasca within the context of Santo Daime has been criminalized
ostensibly for public health reasons. The ECHR offers a wide margin of
appreciation to European member states to reach such conclusions, unlawful
as they may be. Up to this point, no concrete scientific evidence has con-
cluded that the consumption of ayahuasca within ritual or religious context
100 Ben Meeus
constitutes a danger to public health. Moreover, not a single case has been
brought forward that indicates serious health implications on individuals.
This should also add some weight to the verdict of empirical scholarship that
has “consistently shown that the psychophysical risks of (entheogenic) sub-
stances are demonstrably minimal” (Blainey, 2015, p. 299). Therefore, states
should refrain from a paternalistic interference with the choices that people
make out of their own free will and in pursuance of their religious convic-
tions or curiosities, within the sphere of their personal autonomy. Indeed, the
ECHR has already affirmed that, in accordance with article 8 of the Human
Rights Convention, “the ability to conduct one’s life in a manner of one’s
own choosing includes the opportunity to pursue activities perceived to be
of a physically harmful or dangerous nature for the individual concerned”
(Jehovah’s Witnesses of Moscow v. Russia., no. 302/02, §119, ECHR, 2010).
The ECHR has also previously found that, for a measure to be regarded
as proportionate and necessary in a democratic society, “the possibility
of recourse to an alternative measure that would cause less damage to the
fundamental right at issue whilst fulfilling the same aim must be ruled out”
(Nada v. Switzerland., no. 10593/08, §183, ECHR, 2013b). Both the Dutch
and Belgian judiciary have manifestly failed to even consider the wide spec-
trum of less restrictive measures available to mitigate perceived concerns
related to the safeguarding of public health. In doing so, they endorsed the
legally equivocate crusade of their respective Public Ministries.
Conclusions
It is clear that Santo Daime churches navigate difficult waters as a for-
eign religious minority using a psychoactive substance within the European
Union. The stigma related to its categorization as a “sect” or its practi-
tioners as “drug users” has a detrimental and unjustifiable impact on their
existence and continuity. Within a persisting context of prohibition and
criminalization, Santo Daime churches are further pushed into clandestin-
ity. It would be foolish to assume that daimistas will stop importing aya-
huasca in respect of prejudice-induced and legally flawed judgements that
deny them the right to practise their religion. As a consequence, their reli-
gious practice will continue to exist next to commercialized and other non-
ethical ayahuasca activities. Therefore, in Europe, the ayahuasca diaspora is
effectively becoming a new “mini drug war.” “Drug routes” are created and
used by both “legitimate” and “illegitimate” ayahuasca importers, which
the authorities will likely continue to prosecute as a homogenous group
at their own discretion and, so far, without any form of dialogue. This,
while the Santo Daime churches have continuously reached out their hands
for a full and transparent cooperation during legal processes. An entire
organizational framework exists for the Santo Daime church, with trans-
national functions that allow for an ethically and legally considerate way
of producing, transporting, storing, and using ayahuasca. A zero-tolerance
approach by national authorities simply does not allow for mitigation and
control of a situation that clearly requires it. The story continues to unfold,
and it befits genuine democratic, pluralist, and inclusive societies, such
as EU member states, to search for ways to establish the necessary and
sought-after dialogue in a frank spirit of compromise and understanding.
The creation of a legal framework around Santo Daime is imperative.
Notes
1 ICEFLU stands for Igreja do Culto Ecléctico da Fluente Luz Universal (Church
of the Eclectic Cult of the Universal Flowing Light). Their mother church,
called Céu do Mapiá, is situated in Amazonas, Brazil. Founded in 1983, ICE-
FLU’s institutional framework is responsible for the daily functioning of the
entire transnational structure, including the task of providing ayahuasca to
their daughter churches (affiliates) in Brazil and overseas.
2 Among the criteria, one can find: (i) misleading or abusive recruiting methods;
(ii) physical or mental mistreatment; (iii) deprivation of adequate health care;
(iv) disproportionate financial demands, fraud, and misappropriation; (v) abu-
sive exploitation of work, etc.
3 See ECHR, Metropolitan Church of Bessarabia and Others v. Moldova, §119;
ECHR, United Communist Party of Turkey, §47; ECHR, Partidul Comunistilor
(Nepeceristi) and Ungureanu v. Romania, §49; ECHR, Moscow Branch of the
Salvation Army v. Russia, §76 and Svyato-Mykhaylivska Parafiya v. Ukraine,
§138: “the Court must look at the interference complained of in light of the case
as a whole and determine whether it was proportionate to the legitimate aim
pursued” and whether the reasons adduced by the national authorities to justify
it are “relevant and sufficient.” In doing so, “the Court has to satisfy itself that
the national authorities… based their decisions on an acceptable assessment of
the relevant facts.” (ECHR, 1996, 1998, 2002, 2005, 2006 and 2007b)
4 See ECHR, Manoussakis v. Greece, §38: “the Court doesn’t consider it neces-
sary to rule on the question whether the interference in issue was ‘prescribed by
law’ in this instance because, in any event, it was incompatible with article 9 of
the Convention on other grounds.”
5 Hard requirements for admission include: (i) be part of a legitimate religion,
(ii) be registered as a legal entity, (iii) be prepared to offer full cooperation to
authorities, (iv) exclude any kind of commercialization, and be prepared to
provide insight in their financial accounting to confirm this, and (v) not com-
mend ayahuasca as a substitute for regular medical and psychological care, nor
obstruct access to such care.
Soft requirements for admission relate to: (i) continuity of practice, (ii) import
documentation, (iii) bookkeeping, (iv) storage, (v) intake, (vi) guidance,
(vii) financial contributions, (viii) support of academic/scientific research, and
(ix) leadership.
6 In 2017, the churches registered 2,532 guests and 2,871 official members.
References
Ayahuasca thee: Drugs of heilig sacrament? [Ayahuasca tea: Drug or holy sacra-
ment?]. (2015, January 14). Het Laatste Nieuws. https://www.demorgen.be/
nieuws/ayahuasca-thee-drugs-of-heilig-sacrament~b78265fa/?referrer=https://
www.google.com/
102 Ben Meeus
Barrett, D. (2010). Security, development and human rights: Normative, legal and
policy challenges for the international drug control system. The International Jour-
nal on Drug Policy, 21(2), 140–144. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2010.01.005
Belgium. (1998, June 2). Wet houdende oprichting van een Informatie- en
Adviescentrum inzake de schadelijke sektarische organisaties en van een
Administratieve coördinatiecel inzake de strijd tegen schadelijke sektarische
organisaties [Law establishing an information and advice center on harmful sec-
tarian organizations and an administrative coordination cell on the fight against
harmful sectarian organizations]. https://etaamb.openjustice.be/nl/wet-van-02-
juni-1998_n1998009893.html
Belgium Informatie en Adviescentrum inzake Schadelijke Sektarische Organ-
isaties [Information and Advice Center on Harmful Sectarian Organizations]
(IACCSO). (2010). Tweejaarlijks verslag 2009–2010 [Biennial Report 2009–
2010]. http://www.iacsso.be/tweejaarlijks_verslag2009-2010_bijlagen.pdf)
Belgium Correctional Court of Bruges. (2014, March 31). X./VZW Antropologie
Studycenter of Amazon Forest.
Belgium Public Ministry. (2012). Annual report of the Federal Prosecution to the
college of general attorneys over the period of January 1, 2012 to December 31,
2012. http://www.om-mp.be/om_mp/files/parquet-federal/rapports%20annuels/
NL/jaarverslag%202012.pdf)
Blainey, M. G. (2013). A ritual key to mystical solutions: Ayahuasca therapy, sec-
ularism & the Santo Daime religion in Belgium (Doctoral dissertation). Tulane
University. https://digitallibrary.tulane.edu/islandora/object/tulane%3A24932
Blainey, M. G. (2015). Forbidden therapies: Santo Daime, ayahuasca, and the pro-
hibition of entheogens in Western society. Journal of Religion and Health, 54(1),
287–302. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10943-014-9826-2. 287–302.
Brazil Conselho Federal de Entorpecentes [Brazil Federal Narcotics Council]
(CONFEN). (1987). Relatório final das atividades desenvolvidas pelo Grupo de
Trabalho designado pela Resolução/CONFEN n° 4 de 30 de julho de 1985 [Final
report of the activities developed by the Working Group designated by Reso-
lution/CONFEN No. 4 of July 30, 1985]. http://www.mp.go.gov.br/portalweb/
hp/41/docs/relatorio_final_-_grupo_multidisciplinar_de_trabalho_-_gmt_-_
ayahuasca.pdf
Crick, E. (2012). Drugs as an existential threat: An analysis of the international
securitization of drugs. The International Journal on Drug Policy, 23(5), 407–
414. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2012.03.004.
de Wolff, F. A. (2000). Expert report commissioned by the examining Judge of the
Amsterdam District Court in the case of Fijneman. Amsterdam. http://www.
mestreirineu.org/law_texts/2001%20Dutch%20Santo%20Daime%20Case%
20-%20Expert%20Witness%20Report%20by%20F%5B1%5D.A.%20de%20
Woff%20_English_.pdf
Denaux, A. (2002). The attitude of Belgian authorities toward new religious move-
ments. BYU Law Review, 2002(2), 237–268.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (1996). Manoussakis v. Greece. no.
18748/91.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (1998). United Communist Party of
Turkey. 133/1996/752/951.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2002). Metropolitan Church of Bes-
sarabia and others v. Moldova. no. 45701/99.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2005). Partidul Comunistilor
( Nepeceristi) and Ungureanu v. Romania. No. 46626/99.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2006). Moscow Branch of the Salva-
tion Army v. Russia. no. 72881/01.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2007a). Franklin-Beentjes and
CEFLU-Luz da Floresta v. the Netherlands. no. 28167/07.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2007b). Svyato-Mykhaïlivska
Parafiya v. Ukraine. no. 77703/01.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2009). Skugar and others v. Russia.
no. 40010/04.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2010). Jehovah’s Witnesses of Mos-
cow v. Russia. no. 302/02.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2013a). Eweida and others v. the
United Kingdom. no. 48420/10.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2013b). Nada v. Switzerland.
no. 10593/08.
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2014a). Analysis of Statistics 2014.
Council of Europe. https://www.echr.coe.int/Documents/Stats_analysis_2014_
ENG.pdf
European Court of Human Rights (ECHR). (2014b). (GC). S.A.S v. France.
no. 43835/11.
Elliott, R., Csete, J., Wood, E., & Kerr, T. (2005). Harm reduction, HIV/AIDS,
and the human rights challenge to global drug control policy. Health and Human
Rights, 8(2), 104–138. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/17136905/
Fautré, W. (2010). Religious intolerance in Belgium: The role of some state and
non-state actors. Religion – Staat – Gesellschaft, 11(2–2010), 209–225.
Ferrari, S. (2006). New religious movements in Western Europe. Religioscope,
Research and Analyses, 9. https://www.religion.info/pdf/2006_10_ferrari_nrm.pdf
Geestverruimende thee mag nu in kerkdienst [Mind-expanding tea is now allowed
in church service]. (2001, May 22). Trouw. https://www.trouw.nl/nieuws/
g e e s t ve r r u i m e n d e - t h e e - m a g - nu - i n - ke rkd i e n s t~b 42 f 7f 0 2 / ? r e f e r r e r =
https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F
Giumbelli, E. (2002). O fim da religião: dilemas da Liberdade religiosa no Brasil
e na França [The end of religion: Dilemmas of religious freedom in Brazil and
France]. Attar.
International Center for Ethnobotanical Education Research and Service (ICEERS).
(2017). Ayahuasca technical report 2017. ICEERS. https://www.iceers.org/
ENG.pdf
Labate, B. C., & Feeney, K. (2014). The expansion of Brazilian ayahuasca reli-
gions: Law, culture and locality. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Prohi-
bition, religious freedom, and human rights: Regulating traditional drug use
Labate, B. C., & Assis, G. L. (2017). The religion of the forest: Reflections on the
international expansion of a Brazilian ayahuasca religion. In B. C. Labate, C.
Cavnar, & A. K. Gearin (Eds.), The world ayahuasca diaspora: Reinventions
and controversies (pp. 57–78). Routledge.
Lassen, E. M. (2020). Limitations to freedom of religion or belief in Denmark. Religion
and Human Rights, 15(1) 134–152. https://doi.org/10.1163/18710328-BJA10008
104 Ben Meeus
Meeus, B. (2017). Santo Daime in Brazil, Belgium and the Netherlands: The
transnationalization of a new religious movement and the legal issues related
to its religious use of ayahuasca (Master’s thesis). CEDLA. https://neip.info/
novo/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Meeus_ Santo_Daime_Brazil_Belgium_
Netherlands.pdf
Netherlands. Court of Appeal of Amsterdam. (2006, January 25). Fränklin-Beentjes.
Netherlands. Court of Appeal of Amsterdam. (2012, February 24). Valousek.
No. 23-001916-09.
Netherlands. Court of Appeal of Amsterdam. (2018, February 28). Van Dorsten
a.o. No. 23-003369-16.
Netherlands. District Court of Amsterdam. (2001, May 21). Fijneman.
No. 13/067455-99.
Netherlands. District Court of Haarlem. (2009, March 26). Valousek.
No. 15-800013-09.
Netherlands. District Court of Haarlem. (2016, September 8). Van Dorsten a.o.
No. 15/720119-15.
Netherlands. Supreme Court. (2007, January 9). Fränklin-Beentjes. No. 00810/
06 B.
Netherlands. Supreme Court. (2019, October 1). Van Dorsten. No. 18/01356.
Olson, P. (2006). The public perception of “cults” and “new religious movements.”
Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 45(1), 97–106.
Ouald Chaib, S. (2015). Belief in justice: Towards more inclusivity in and
through the freedom of religion case law of the European Court of Human
Rights (Doctoral dissertation). University of Ghent. https://biblio.ugent.be/
publication/6869572
Peluso, D. M. (2017). Global ayahuasca: An entrepreneurial ecosystem. In B. C.
Labate, C. Cavnar, & A. K. Gearin (Eds.), The world ayahuasca diaspora: Rein-
ventions and controversies (pp. 223–242). Routledge.
Richardson, J. (2015). Managing religion and the judicialization of religious free-
dom. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 54(1), 1–19.
Richardson, J. (2016). Legal dimensions of new religions: An update. In J. R. Lewis
& I. B. Tollefsen (Eds.), The oxford handbook on new religious movements
(Vol. 2, pp. 152–173). doi: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190466176.013.11
Sánchez, C., & Bouso, C. J. (2015). Drug policy briefing: Ayahuasca, from
the Amazon to the global village. ICEERS & TNI. https://www.tni.org/en/
publication/ayahuasca-from-the-amazon-to-the-global-village
Torfs, R. (2005). Permissible scope of legal limitations on the freedom of religion or
belief in Belgium. The Emory International Law Review, 19, 637–683.
Tupper, K. W. (2008). The globalization of ayahuasca: Harm reduction or bene-
fit maximization? The International Journal on Drug Policy, 19(4), 297–303.
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2006.11.001
Tupper, K. W. (2011). Ayahuasca, entheogenic education & public policy (Doc-
toral dissertation). Simon Fraser University. https://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/
download?doi=10.1.1.458.9543&rep=rep1&type=pdf
United Nations. (1961). Single convention on narcotic drugs, 1961. United Nations
Office on Drug and Crime. https://www.unodc.org/unodc/en/treaties/single-
convention.html?ref=menuside
United Nations. (1971). UN Convention on psychotropic substances, 1971. United
Nations. https://www.unodc.org/pdf/convention_1971_en.pdf
Van Der Plas, A. G. (2017). Pleading notes before the District Court of Haarlem
on January 24, 2017. Haarlem.
Van Wijk, A., Bremmers, B., Hardeman, M., Appelman, T., & Ferwerda, H. (2013).
Het warme bad en de koude douche: Een onderzoek naar misstanden in nieuwe
religieuze bewegingen en de toerekendheid van het instrumentarium van recht
en zorg [The hot bath and the cold shower: An investigation into abuses in new
religious movements and the imputability of the instruments of law and care].
Ministerie van Veiligheid en Justitie, Wetenschappelijk Onderzoek- en Documen-
tatiecentrum (WODC). https://www.bureaubeke.nl/doc/2013/Rapport_Warme_
bad_koude_douche_Bekereeks.pdf
6 The Landscapes of Ayahuasca
in Contemporary France
Clara Novaes and Marie Rose Moro
Translated from French by Jo Ann Cahn
Introduction
The western portion of the Amazon Forest, traversed by the Purus, Juruá,
and Madeira rivers and previously home to a largely Indigenous popula-
tion, was transformed at the end of the nineteenth century into Brazil’s
principal rubber-producing area (Chaumeil, 2003). Although several
Amerindian societies have disappeared, some seringueiros (rubber workers,
most of them migrants from Northeast Brazil) encountered and made use of
a fundamental element of the region’s indigenous culture: ayahuasca.
Ayahuasca is a Quechuan term that has become an international appel-
lation designating a powerful psychoactive brew that requires long and
meticulous preparation. The brew is rich in dimethyltryptamine (DMT), a
powerful psychoactive substance. (For the complex pharmacology of aya-
huasca, see Callaway et al., 1999; Bois-Mariage, 2002.) It comes in part
from a plant important in the shamanisms of the Amazon Basin, used long
before the arrival of the Portuguese and Spanish colonizers. Local names
include yajé, caapi, natem, and datem (Baud, 2009), the medicine, the
purge, hoasca, daime, tea, or just “the plant.” Several factors play a role in
the psychotropic effects of this decoction, the fruit of at least two plants,
Banisteriopsis caapi (the vine) and Psychotria viridis (a shrub): the plants
chosen—the vine and its additives—and their properties, the technique for
preparing the brew, the ambience of the ritual, the role of the guides, and,
quite obviously, the psyche of each participant.
In the course of the twentieth century, in a chaotic social, economic,
and cultural context, three migrants (Irineu Serra, Daniel Pereira de Mat-
tos, and Gabriel de Costa) built new hybrid institutions around ayahuasca,
which they made into a sacrament. Santo Daime emerged at the beginning
of the 1930s, just after the first rubber cycle (1860–1915), while the other
two ayahuasca religions developed at the end of the second rubber cycle:
Barquinha was born in 1945, and the União do Vegetal appeared at the end
of the 1950s. Out of their plant-induced trances, these three men created a
spiritual-religious use of ayahuasca very different from the recreational use
of the other seringueiros. They used this substance as a vehicle for putting
106 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-7

The Landscapes of Ayahuasca in Contemporary France 107
humans in contact with the sacred. Their multiple inspirations included
popular Catholicism, European spiritualism, Afro-Brazilian religious tra-
ditions (Candomblé and Umbanda, in which trances and possession play a
major role), and, of course, indigenous Amazonian shamanism.
The uses of this psychotropic drink and its rituals have changed over
the past 40 years (Labate et al., 2008). Some of its elements have taken on
new meanings in cultures different from those in which they were devel-
oped. This is especially true beyond the frontiers of the Amazon, in several
countries across the world where collective, ritual experiences—religious or
not—now exist around this drink. Thus, starting from the specific context
of the indigenous shamanisms of the Amazon, ayahuasca encountered the
culture of the Brazilian forest, then urban Brazilian cultures, and then,
new forms of spirituality from Europe and other parts of the world. Over
several decades, it became transcultural and sensitive to the vicissitudes of
the contemporary world (Novaes, 2018).
There are thus officially three ayahuasca religions (Labate, 2004) born
in the Brazilian Amazon region in the twentieth century from the meeting
of seringueiros with the mystic trance induced by ayahuasca: the Santo
Daime, the União do Vegetal, and Barquinha. The first two are present
almost everywhere in Brazil and in several other places throughout the
world. They are recognized by the Brazilian government, which has given
them the right to use “ayahuasca tea” in an exclusively religious framework.
In Brazil, 40 years ago, ayahuasca was practically unknown. Its appeal
remained mysterious, linked to the exotic cults of the Amazonian Forest of
the country’s faraway North. Nonetheless, beginning in the 1970s, these
religions were slowly “discovered” by hippies, artists, intellectuals, and
travelers, and, at the beginning of the 1980s, they were adopted by por-
tions of the middle class of major urban centers. By the end of the decade,
ayahuasca and its rituals began expanding abroad (Labate et al., 2008). In
this context, several urban neo-ayahuasca groups appeared (a term coined
by Brazilian anthropologist Beatriz C. Labate in 2004, referring to groups
that first appeared in Brazil in the 1990s that were generally inspired by
one of the three ayahuasca religions but did not belong to any of them).
Eminently experimental, they created a true hybrid, mixing the ayahuasca
religions and shamanic practices of the Amazon region (Brazil, Peru, etc.)
with other currents of thought, including New Age, Jungian psychology,
and variants of orientalism.
In this chapter, based on the results of our research (Novaes, 2011) con-
ducted with ethnopsychoanalytic methods, we argue that the experience
of the ancient practice of using ayahuasca can be considered as a practice
seeking its place in the contemporary world (Agamben, 2008), and that it
speaks of a mode of subjectivation that tries to find a place in this world, a
place that it is useful to analyze in dialog with the legislation of the French
government on ayahuasca. Our clinical practice teaches us that the con-
temporary world is characterized by new modalities of subjectivity that
108 Clara Novaes and Marie Rose Moro
seek modes of accomplishment in the individual as well as in the collective
and social systems. These new religious and spiritual experiments, such
those linked to the use of ayahuasca, register directly in the body, reflecting
these attempts at singularization and hybridization that allow contempo-
rary subjects to put together novel ways both of being in the world and of
living religious feelings through the “migration of the sacred” (Laplantine,
2007) and the transformation of cultures. It is appropriate to consider the
extent to which a State’s repressive position makes it possible to truly think
through these attempts and movements.
Legislation about the Use of Ayahuasca

We become ill when we adhere totally and unrestrictedly to the norms
of our own society.
François Laplantine (2007, p. 171)
Ayahuasca, per se, is not regulated by international conventions; what is

regulated is DMT, which is one of its components. The laws governing it
vary from one country to another.
In 2004 (after 18 years of waiting), ayahuasca was permanently decrim-
inalized in Brazil for religious and indigenous use; although the ban on it
had ended in 1986, regulation remained uncertain and inconsistent until
2004. In March 2006, the Brazilian national antidrug council (CONAD)
conducted a seminar on ayahuasca and asked the ayahuasqueros (those
individuals who use ayahuasca in a ritual context) to choose six represent-
atives to comprise a multidisciplinary working group to develop policy on
various aspects of ayahuasca use in Brazil. The working group included
a pharmacologist-psychiatrist, a psychologist, a lawyer, a social worker,
another psychiatrist, and the social anthropologist Edward MacRae. Their
work led to the official legislation on ayahuasca in Brazil.
In 1971, Brazil was one of the countries signatories of the Vienna inter-
national convention on psychotropic substances (France has always used
this treaty as evidence of the illegality of ayahuasca). Since then, the United
Nations has determined that DMT obtained from plants is not subject to
control by this treaty.
On January 25, 2010, CONAD announced its resolution creating a right
to the ritual use of ayahuasca in religious settings, establishing norms and
ethical principles that these religions would have to follow. Brazil’s position
is highly original and represents the serious work that served as a founda-
tion for a long debate, bringing together representatives of the ayahuasca
religions and experts in several important domains, including science,
medicine, and social work. On this subject, see Labate and Feeney (2011),
which deals with the regulation of ayahuasca in Brazil and elsewhere in
the world. It succinctly presents the changes over time from its prohibition
in the 1980s through the moment in 2010 when CONAD adopted a new
resolution concerning ayahuasca use in Brazil. Labate and Feeney use this
resolution as a starting point for a debate around the expansion and inter-
nationalization of these practices and point out that it could influence deci-
sions made worldwide. The article reviews complex ideas such as religious
liberty and religious legitimacy.
In France, ayahuasca has been banned since May 2005 (see Bourgogne,
2011 for a legal history of this beverage in France.) There, ayahuasca is
first and foremost known outside the academy from its Peruvian circuit. It
is not uncommon, for example, to hear interviews on French radio about
the French doctor Jacques Mabit and the Takiwasi Center (see Dupuis,
2016) in Peru, an institution he created in 1992 to treat cocaine addicts
with ayahuasca. Similarly, the films, books, and public talks by the French
filmmaker Jan Kounen (2004a, 2004b) have led to a greater diffusion of
information about ayahuasca, notably in the context of Shipibo-Conibo
shamanism.
In the mid-1990s (as we learned in conducting research for my doctoral
thesis, Novaes, 2011), two French daimistas (the term used to describe fol-
lowers of Santo Daime) in Paris and a Brazilian, then working on his doc-
torate in French literature, created a small group practicing according to the
principles of the Santo Daime church. There was talk of a similar group in
Marseille at that time. Until 1999, the French members received ayahuasca
from Brazil without any problem. A denunciation then led the police to
begin an investigation of their practices and these three individuals were
jailed for three weeks. After ongoing legal procedures, ayahuasca was legal-
ized in France in January 2005, only to be banned again that May.
Currently, Sébastien (a pseudonym, as are all the names of research par-
ticipants mentioned here), the French leader of a Santo Daime church, and
others in France continue to try to follow the examples of Spain and the
Netherlands and practice the Santo Daime religion legally in France. France
seems, nonetheless, to want to ban their sacramental use of ayahuasca,
which it considers a cult practice, although the ayahuasqueros evidently
claim that they are not. According to some ayahuasqueros and French
anthropologists I spoke to, personal quarrels around experiments with aya-
huasca involving influential French political figures may have played a deci-
sive role in the decision about the legality of ayahuasca in France. However,
we were unable to investigate this issue further.
In the Netherlands, the use of ayahuasca in religious contexts has been
authorized since May 21, 2002. It has also been legal in Spain since Octo-
ber 2003. In both countries, there are Daimista groups closely linked to one
another and affiliated with ICEFLU (Igreja do Culto Eclético da Fluente
Luz Universal [Eclectic Worship Church of the Fluent Universal Light]),
the Santo Daime umbrella organization based in Brazil. They follow the
Brazilian matrix. Ayahuasca use is not criminalized in Peru, where it is used
as part of traditional medicine. In the United States, the use of ayahuasca
is not decriminalized, only the UDV and certain branches of Santo Daime
are allowed to use it under religious auspices. It is decriminalized, along
with other plant medicines, in Arcata, Oakland and Santa Cruz, CA, and
Ann Arbor, Northampton, Somerville, and Cambridge MI, Denver, CO
and Seattle WA.
In France, according to the 2005 report of the only organization of its
kind in the world, Miviludes (Mission interministérielle de vigilance et
de lutte contre les dérives sectaires, or, as they translate it into English:
“inter-ministerial mission of monitoring and combat against sectarian or
cultic deviance”):
By decree dated April 20, 2005, on the proposal of the national com-
mission on narcotic and psychotropic agents, the minister of… health…
classified as narcotics a series of products: Banisteriopsis caapi, Pega-
num harmala, Psychotria viridis, Diplopterys cabrerana, Mimosa hos-
tilis, Banisteriopsis rusbyana, harmine, harmaline, tetrahydroharmine
(THH), harmol, and harmalol, that is, the substances involved in the
preparation of what is generally called ayahuasca. According to the
report, beyond the purely pharmacological reasons that led the Com-
mission to propose this classification, the fact that this substance is
essentially taken during ritual ceremonies of the Church of the Santo
Daime could not be ignored.
(Miviludes, 2005, p. 121)
Is Ayahuasca Use “Cultic Deviance”?

According to Miviludes (FAQ, n.d.), the legislature “has always refused to
define religions. For the same reasons, no definition exists of the concepts
of cults or abuse in view of the impossibility of defining these ideas.” The
1995 parliamentary investigation committee selected the following criteria
for understanding and characterizing cults and sects:
• mental destabilization;
• exorbitant financial demands;
• severing of ties with the original social environment;
• attacks on physical integrity;
• indoctrination of children, antisocial discourse, breaches of the public
order;
• substantial legal problems;
• bypassing traditional economic networks;
• attempts to infiltrate the authorities (Commission d’enquête sur les
sectes, 1995).
In the long, eclectic list of practices monitored by Miviludes (Report, 2005),

special attention is given to deviant medical practices and alternative thera-
pies (Reiki, energy medicines, prayer healing, etc.), where magical thinking
and reliance on miracles might endanger lives. The practices of shaman-
ism and personal development (which they claim offers a fertile field for
potential shamans and rip-off artists) are also on this list of signs to be
monitored; they discuss the resurgence of shamanism in the Western world
and the risk presented by facilities such as the Takiwasi Center, described
above, of the French physician Jacques Mabit. They state:
Beyond the particular case of Takiwasi, shamanic practices of equally

contestable therapeutic validity appear to be progressing in France
under the guise of personal development. This poses problems when
these practices combine the risk of fraud and real dangers for the phys-
ical and mental health of those using them. In Peru, sessions for the
discovery of ayahuasca are now included in tours proposed by tour
operators ($200/session): a simple experience of taking hallucinogens
in which folk customs replace rituals for thrill-seeking foreign tour-
ists. In France, recently, the niche of “commercial shamanism” also
seems to be developing via several personal initiatives of therapist-
shamans recruiting clients by a two-fold promise to “consumers,”
offering recovery and self-knowledge.
(Miviludes, 2005, p. 48)
Concrete proof is nonetheless absent. We read further on: “These methods

are worrisome. They may have been responsible for an accidental death
in the United States” (Miviludes, 2005, p. 50). The danger of ayahuasca,
according to this report, said to be based on investigations conducted in
2004 and 2005, lies “in the fact that distributors offer counterfeit prod-
ucts, the effects of which have not been determined” (Miviludes, 2005,
p. 100). The term “distributors” appears to suggest the existence of a
drug trafficking network that does not (yet) seem to exist. Although some
sites, especially in the Netherlands, can be found on the internet offering
small quantities of leaves and vine for the psychonauts who want to try
manufacturing the brew and experimenting alone, both the discourse in
the milieu of ayahuasca and its international tradition strongly recom-
mend that it should not be taken alone, or even without someone experi-
enced in its use.
Currently, on the Miviludes site, in the page dedicated to international
news (see: https://www.derives-sectes.gouv.fr/search/node/ayahuasca, con-
sulted on January 21, 2022), a reserve notice was issued on October 4,
2019, about ayahuasca and the ongoing trend of an international network
around sectarian movements entitled: “du ‘neo-shamanic’ ‘narco-tourism’:
in order to develop their activities throughout the planet.” Then, a table is
highlighted with a notice:
The French Embassy warns travelers against the consumption of aya-

huasca, a hallucinogenic plant used by shamans in the Amazon, listed
in the narcotics register in France. The use of ayahuasca can have seri-
ous medical consequences, which can lead to death. Mastery of the
process of initiation into shamanism is in no way controlled and cannot
be guaranteed under any circumstances. However, many tourist guides
as well as unreliable eco-tourism centers offer initiations to shamanism.
Thus, the Sachawawa center in Tarapoto is, in particular, the subject
of a judicial inquiry following the death of a Frenchwoman in August
2011, in circumstances not yet elucidated.
We thus find a second allusion to a death caused by ayahuasca but without

more precise information.
Unlike other countries, such as the United States, the Netherlands,
and Spain, Miviludes makes no mention of the research carried out in
Brazil with interdisciplinary and international teams, especially the Hoasca
Project. In 1995, the first conference of the Hoasca Project was held in
Rio de Janeiro, funded by the União do Vegetal (UDV). The aim of this
conference was to present the results of what is probably the most impor-
tant research ever conducted about ayahuasca. The Hoasca Project took
place in Manaus in the 1990s. It was the first major scientific study of aya-
huasca, and its results remain important today. A group of nine research
groups participated, including institutions and universities in Brazil, the
United States, and Finland. More than 30 researchers took part, included
the highly respected Charles Grob, Dennis McKenna, and Jace Callaway.
The 15 volunteers in the study were all members of the UDV, affiliated
with the group for at least ten years, during which time they had consumed
ayahuasca around once a week. The Hoasca Project studied the long-term
consequences of the regular use of ayahuasca in a ritual framework. This
study was conducted by an international team of researchers, and its results
were published in a prestigious psychiatry journal. The study concluded
that the subjects were “normal” physiologically, neuropsychologically, and
psychiatrically. Although most of the volunteers had presented episodes of
dependence on alcohol or other substances before joining the UDV, they
had been abstinent since. More surprisingly, their results on the neuropsy-
chological tests were better than those of the matched control group of
people who had never used ayahuasca. This study was a fundamental step
forward in the history of the Brazil’s regulation of ayahuasca in urban reli-
gious settings.
Nonetheless, ayahuasca, like any other product or activity, is not immune
to criminals who seek to use its trendiness to make money. However, they
represent a small minority of users. Complex questions of discrimination
and fundamental fairness are raised by legal measures that lump all prac-
tices together, as the French laws do, putting the practices of Santo Daime
adherents together with those of potential scammers, swindlers, or hus-
tlers. The question also seems to be political: While it is clear that various
harmful practices can arise among movements that could be categorized as
cults, the French manner of dealing with the specific question of ayahuasca
remains enigmatic. However, we cannot raise all of the issues involved in
that decision in this article.
Generally, a cult is defined as a totalitarian group in which a guru controls
the minds (mentally manipulates or brainwashes) its members. According
to the sociologist Arnaud Esquerre (2009), this general battle against “mind
control” is essentially a contrivance by which the State exerts its power on
the human psyche, masking the complexity and singularity of the situation
targeted. This battle against cults, said to be for the good of both society
and individuals, and its ensuing stakes and implications, reflects a system
of power that results in subjugation. The topic of cults, as an object of dis-
course, and their particular treatment in France, takes us into an especially
divisive discursive field that requires going above and beyond the binary
logic polarization of pro- or anti-cult. Some consider them new cults, and
others, new religious movements. According to Esquerre (2009, p. 356):
In analyzing the fight against cults in France, which began in the 1970s,
the way that these disputes bring into play the psychological autonomy
of human beings, the conditions in which accusations of mind control
succeed, the battles between professionals of the mind, the willingness
to condemn psychological subjection and to regulate psychotherapy, the
point was to explain how power over the mind is created and exercised.
This remains a real question. Who could support the misdeeds that catego-
rize a cult? No one. And this answer raises the question of the use of this
label: Who belongs to it? Was a group correctly categorized as a cult or did
the State have another reason to use this list? In a historic overview of the
concept of cult from the nineteenth century until today, Esquerre stands out
by arguing that “what is unprecedented is not that there are ‘new cults,’ but
the ways of designating and combatting them” (Esquerre, 2009, pp. 8–9).
Contrary to those who argue that, now, all are free to choose and practice
the spirituality they want, sociological research shows that the possibility
of choosing a spiritual community in France is very limited and strongly
constrained by the State and by various control mechanisms. Going beyond
these limits involves the risks of severing family ties and of subjecting one-
self to discrimination, especially in work relationships.
According to the sociologist Danièle Hervieu-Léger (2001), the concept
of “cult” is generally perceived in France
as a sort of disease that starts with contaminated individuals and is

likely to undermine the entire social body. The fight against cults thus
becomes a sort of public health campaign, a combat to defeat an “epi-
demic threat,” part of the centuries-old battle by medical science against
obscurantism and superstition, indirectly re-legitimizing the latter.
(Hervieu-Léger, 2001, pp. 56–57)
Hervieu-Léger finally calls for a rational public debate that would make
it possible to construct a “new approach to religious pluralism within
secularism.”
Her request appears to us to be the same one that Sébastien has made,
and her goal the same as the analysis he developed about the place of Santo
Daime in France. Hervieu-Léger underlines that
the publication of the list and the effort made by legislators to define
a spiritual map of “potentially dangerous groups” reveals especially a
dead-end attempt to block the disorders induced by the unregulated
pluralization of a religious scene that is no longer organized exclusively
around the “great religions” long present on French soil.
(Hervieu-Léger, p. 48)
She points out that, today in France, this kind of mobilization of the author-
ities is still based on two linked anxiety-inducing factors: a fear of the risk
of cults and an antipathy to pluralism, expressed by a desire for a nor-
malizing type of religious regulation, modeled on Christian confessional
pluralism. Less explicitly, the State may want to “tear minds away from the
influence of representations judged to be in radical contradiction to reason
and autonomy” (Hervieu-Léger, p. 22).
Some cults are actually dangerous; we absolutely do not deny that.
Nonetheless, contrary to cults, the ayahuasca religions, and even the
neo-ayahuasca urban circles, seek to participate in research, studies, and
analyses. The UDV (one of the Brazilian ayahuasca religions) created a
medical-scientific department (DEMEC) in 1986, tasked with speaking on
UDV’’s behalf with both authorities and scientists. DEMEC seeks to facil-
itate the performance of research by scientific and scholarly institutions on
ayahuasca, especially within the UDV. It is also responsible for organizing
conferences on ayahuasca. They do this in a quest for scientific legitimacy
that could be questioned and analyzed. It is, in any case, not characteristic
of cults, but rather the opposite of the isolation practiced in cults that could
be characterized as dangerous: those that seek to cut members’ ties to their
family and friends.
For this reason, as we noted during the years of research for our master’s
thesis (Novaes, 2005) and our doctoral dissertation (Novaes, 2011), we
have been unable to consider the ritual urban uses of ayahuasca equiva-
lent in any way to the actions of either cults or totalitarian organizations.
Certainly, we can and must ask ourselves questions about the nature of
this contemporary desire for self-knowledge and the resurgence of practices
outside of their original cultural context, and about the commercial risks
and their potential consequences for both the culture of origin and the new
host cultures in Latin America and then Europe. Nonetheless, it seems to
us insufficient to simply list or record these practices on a list of prohi-
bitions and hope that a State decision will keep people away. Moreover,
this demonstration of force by State authorities and its actors, who com-
mit themselves to protecting and ensuring a “majority” view of the world,
treats adults as children.
We note that the relation of French society to the issue of cults is
expressed by a semantic arsenal that is both pathological and prophylactic
(as also reported by the people we interviewed, expressing their fear of
talking about the subject of ayahuasca). In French political and media dis-
course, the pairing of regulation and protection is of great importance. This
combination appears to us to be in the same category and applies the same
logic as that of the War on Drugs; a logic that we cannot support. Nor do
we support conditional respect for all types of human practices or behav-
iors on the pretext of avoiding prejudice and respecting every choice; that
is not what we are saying. Rather, the historic (not natural) and political
journey that causes some things at some moments to play certain roles in
society must be understood. Ethnopsychoanalysis helps us to move past the
cultural relativization or psychiatrization of the culture, but it also teaches
us that a society can fall ill.
The question then, beyond the case of France, is, what kind of regulation
can a democratic State ask for and for what purpose? How far can a secu-
lar State go in its actions to facilitate or impede the expression of identity-
related particularities?
The French bodies fighting cults are aware of the singularity of their
actions compared with those in other countries. They present themselves as
a vanguard, France as a pioneer, ready to export and offer to the rest of the
world one of its most recent discoveries: the opposition to totalitarian and
manipulative cults that, following the French model, all democracies should
combat. In Brazil and in other countries, the publication of a list identifying
certain groups as fitting a profile labeled “possibly dangerous” would be
considered a violation of their freedom of thought and religion and would
probably be unconstitutional. In these countries, social or political per-
ceptions do not construe cults, per se, a threat to society or its members
(even though some individuals or ex-members might personally think so).
In Brazilian society (as a whole, fairly sensitive to spiritual-religious prac-
tices of all sorts), the only battles against faith run amok or reprehensible
acts within a religious group or in the name of a belief occur when they fit
into the domain of criminal, civil, or administrative law.
Currently in France, experiences with ayahuasca are most often talked
about in association with either abuse by cults or drug dependence. Because
they often do not dare to talk about it, it is difficult to provide care for people
who might need it. The disciplined functioning of these religious organiza-
tions in Brazil appears to have helped to foster a more tolerant approach to
the question of drugs, focusing less on the purely pharmacological aspects
of psychoactive substances and more on the psychological status of those
who use them, as well as on the geographic and socio cultural environment
in which this consumption takes place. Despite occasional problems, which
can always occur when large numbers of people come together for religious
or spiritual reasons, whether or not they consume psychoactive substances,
Santo Daime, the União do Vegetal, and the other religions that use aya-
huasca appear to confirm that social control can effectively limit the nega-
tive consequences of drug use.
The situation is different in France. Sébastien has described to us his long
struggle with the French legal system in the hopes of seeing a day when
Santo Daime will be legal in his country. After serving a prison sentence and
seeing the Santo Daime treated as the equivalent to a dangerous cult, he has
even thought of leaving France. Joseph, another French ayahuasquero we
have met, is very interested in the history of psychoactive drugs throughout
human history; he has written several articles for the French, always under
a pseudonym. Aside from contacts with the Paris network, which is fairly
neo-shamanic, he is careful, cautious, and never talks openly about psycho-
active drugs. François, another Frenchman whom we interviewed for our
research, has not hidden his fears of talking about this subject in his own
country; he dreams of the day when he can become a shaman and practice
this craft in France. Like Joseph, he is counting on a scientific approach to
legitimate these practices.
Although most of the Brazilian population calls itself Catholic, there is
not only great tolerance but even active participation in a wide variety of
religious groups of diverse origins. Many Brazilians appear to be attracted
to spirituality. Although they may have some difficulty explaining what it
is they believe in, few consider themselves atheists. In France, on the other
hand, mistrust of religions is much stronger. We have nonetheless remarked
on the importance among Brazilians of some wandering in this ayahuasca-
associated quest for self; a quest mixed with the search for diverse places,
multiple meetings, and different ways of living the experience of ayahuasca,
even for those with a regular group. There appears to be a constant fear of
freezing or rigidification, together with a desire to avoid becoming religious
or fanatical or always meeting the same people. The watchword appears to
be “have several beliefs but don’t become a zealot.”
In the Netherlands, where the Santo Daime has been established for years
and where it successfully fought for the legalization of ayahuasca, daimistas
are in closer proximity to the Brazilian ayahuasca culture than in France,
where it is associated especially with Peruvian shamanism. Santo Daime
is frowned upon by many French people who are interested in ayahuasca.
Sébastien, the head of Santo Daime in France, does not hide the existence
of the gap between himself and his compatriots who use ayahuasca and not
the sacramental tea daime. In France, there is mistrust of all that might be
syncretic, as Santo Daime and other urban Brazilian practices are perceived
to be. To our knowledge, the different French groups have never assembled
to work together to try to obtain legislative changes. There is thus, on the
one hand, Santo Daime, which is a little isolated, and, on the other hand,
the groups that are more what anthropologists call neo-shamanisms, in
which, in particular, the shamanism of the Shipibo-Conibo remains the
principal influence.
A one-day conference devoted to ayahuasca at the Ecole Normale
Supérieure at Paris on March 19, 2011, focused on its scientific aspects. Its
title “The scientific stakes of ayahuasca” interested us, expressing as it did
the impasse of the social sciences in the contemporary world. Hearing the
word “scientific” inspires immediate visions of important findings about
areas of the brain that will enable new discoveries and prove the interest of
ayahuasca to all humanity.
On this occasion, the filmmaker Jan Kounen, a well-known French aya-
huasquero responsible for one line of ayahuasquero discourse in France,
recounted his relation to this beverage as an indigenous medicine. For him,
ayahuasca is important, among other things, to his film work. He read
passages from his latest book, then in press: a book of advice to Westerners
thinking of going to the Amazon. Kounen underlined the precautions to take
and his exclusive interest in the shamanism of ayahuasca among the Shipibo-
Conibo. Kounen had an important influence on the stories told by Joseph
and François during the research interviews we conducted with them.
At the same conference, Romuald Leterrier, an independent French eth-
nobotanical researcher, also talked about his personal experiences with the
Shipibo-Conibo. He developed the concept of “the spirit of the plant,” the
notion of the cosmos as a great brain, and ayahuasca as the key tool that
could be used in scientific research to provide information for humans. He
thinks of the icaros (sacred songs) as “navigational tools” to guide the expe-
rience. Like Kounen, Leterrier highlighted the “the demands of ayahuasca”;
both wanted to warn that these experiences are neither recreational nor
easy and that they must be taken very seriously. Leterrier evoked Jungian
concepts such as synchronicity and archetype. He then described his per-
sonal experience with ayahuasca; very rich, from a phenomenological per-
spective. Nonetheless, his idea of a scientific procedure around ayahuasca
seems important to us. He had asked a Shipibo shaman to participate in
research that he wanted to begin with a group of scientists. The shaman not
only refused but answered that he had nothing to prove, to anyone. Leter-
rier concluded that it would be easier to pursue his “scientific research”
with the new Western practices of ayahuasca. Or, perhaps, the indigenous
shaman was right? What does this desire to legitimate practices that have
existed since the dawn of time tell us? That said, we are not opposed to
scientific research on ayahuasca, quite the contrary. It is rather the nature
of this desire that we questioning here. It, too, shows something about the
world we live in, where scientific discourse (preferably biomedical) must
always prevail, always determine what is legitimate or not, feasible, viable,
insane, or sane.
Finally, why have we mentioned Jan Kounen and Romuald Leter-
rier? These two men have an important place in the Parisian ayahuasca
scene we encountered during our research. They are well-known, they
publish books, and they inform a large number of French people about this
Amazonian brew. They illustrate a particular European, or at least French,
discourse that is being constructed around these practices. But, above all,
because, astonishingly, these authors are basically talking about the same
thing as most Brazilian ayahuasqueros. This desire for scientific legitimacy
is also presence in the Brazilian discourse, especially that of the União do
Vegetal, which has a medical department and includes more than a few
physicians among its followers. As we have shown, the scientific approach
of the UDV played a major role in enabling the authorization of ayahuasca
in religious settings in Brazil. All the other groups are grateful to them for
this. But it intrigues us nonetheless.
How far does the role of the scientific paradigm extend in this passage,
in this encounter of cultures: Amazonian with urban, traditional medicine
with Western medicine? What alienation is asserted there? Ayahuasca is
part of the world as it is becoming. The question is no longer whether the
exportation of these practices is a good thing. Today, the question is, rather,
how it fits into the world. These spiritualist ayahuasca subjectivities—
Brazilian, French, European—are part of contemporary subjectivities; what
is needed is to think about them seriously, rather than either deny them or
advocate their eradication.
For example, the individual accounts of ayahuasca of Jeanne, who is
Brazilian, and Joseph, who is French, explicitly share two things: the par-
ticular experience of finding oneself on an operating table, and then the
idea that the vomiting is the possibility of purging one’s anxieties, fears,
and trauma. We do not claim to either understand or know how these two
people, without sharing the same cultural references, could describe such
similar aspects of their experiences in different cultural contexts, and we
do not seek to know what area of their brain might have been touched to
induce such an experience. What matters is to think about the presence in
the world these experiences with ayahuasca open in both São Paulo and
in Paris. Both the Brazilians and the Europeans we met consider the urban
rituals with ayahuasca to be an engine, a catalyst, or an exploration of
consciousness and the unconscious (at least of a certain understanding of
the unconscious), or as a door possibly opening to an area neighboring
the unconscious. If the experience of ayahuasca seems indeed to trigger
some foundational intensities in the neighborhood of the unconscious, and
if, during these experiences, the unconscious can reveal itself somehow,
everything moves into a different gear. Everything is accelerated or slowed,
as if, simultaneously, everything makes sense and seems topsy-turvy. The
experience comes close to the subjects’ “subjectify yourself” mode. It can
allow them to relaunch a process of becoming more singular, more excep-
tional, more themselves and, at the same time, lead to new places, new
territories. Still, neither the Brazilians nor the French deny the dangers of
the experience of ayahuasca. They underline the prudence required to not
become lost there, to enable the forging of new existential arrangements
without too much force or pain.
Final Considerations
The French ayahuasca religions and spiritualities, as described above, evoke
a shifting landscape. Their participants, on the other hand, encounter much
less flexibility and dialog from the French State and its strongly affirmed
position.
Sébastien tells us that he has often thought about the French situation
in the history of the Santo Daime’s expansion. He considers his thoughts
on this subject still incomplete. He theorizes that the French imagination
prefers “exoticism with feathers” to an “old-school Catholic” ritual. The
updated cultural dimensions of the Santo Daime are so typically Brazilian
that it seems more logical to the French, who do not share the same cultural
references, to adopt a shamanism considered “purer,” with less Christian
influence; they would sometimes like to distance themselves from some
dimensions of their own culture. For Brazilians, the point, perhaps, is not to
break with the religious traditions of their cultural life but to rework them,
give them new meanings, make semantic displacements. Patrick Deshayes
(2006) spoke of a process of “reconnecting with one’s own history” for
Brazilians and then of “breaking with one’s society” for foreigners. Perhaps
something like that is what is going on. Nonetheless, the borders of the
close and the faraway have held up. Surrealism and spiritualism were emi-
nently French movements. And perhaps the foreigners Deshayes describes
are updating, contemporizing things not unrelated to aspects, even distant,
of their own history and their own country. If so, the Brazilians who want
to reconnect with something must be breaking with what is blocking them
from this reconnection.
For the Brazilian, perhaps, the point is not to create a cleavage between
nature and culture and choose one side, but rather to manage to find ways
to live the contradictions without having to destroy them.
The urban ayahuasqueros—French, Brazilian, and European—are laying
out a map of a contemporary ascetic enterprise (Foucault, 2001) that will
bring together a broad range of techniques for reaching new understand-
ings of self, the other, and the world. If opening themselves to self-knowl-
edge remains the project that runs through the subjectivity of these persons,
independently of their culture, it is much more in and by their culture than
by any legalistic angles that they will (or will not) find a means of express-
ing this project. The Brazilian anthropologist Eduardo Viveiros de Castro
(2002) teaches us that every experience of another culture offers us the
occasion to experiment with our own.
References
Agamben, G. (2008). Qu’est-ce que le contemporain? [What is the contempo-
rary?]. Rivages.
Baud, S. (2009). Chamanisme et plantes psychotropes parmi les Awajun (groupe
Jivaro, Pérou) [Shamanism and psychotropic plants among the Awajun (Jivaro
group, Peru)]. Phytothérapie, 7, 20–25.
Bois-Mariage, F. (2002). Ayahuasca, une synthèse interdisciplinaire [Ayahuasca,
an interdisciplinary synthesis]. Psychotropes, 1(8), 79–113.
Bourgogne, G. (2011). One hundred days on ayahuasca in France: The story of a
legal decision. In B. C. Labate & H. Jungaberle (Eds.), The internationalization
of ayahuasca (pp. 353–363). Lit Verlag.
Callaway, J. C., McKenna, D. J., Grob, C. S., Brito, G. S., Raymon, L. P., Poland,
R. E., Andrade, E. N., Andrade, E. O., & Mash, D. C. (1999). Pharmacokinetics
of hoasca alkaloids in healthy humans. Journal of Ethnopharmacology, 65(3),
243–256.
Chaumeil, J. -P. (2003). Chamanismes à géométrie variable en Amazonie [Shaman-
isms with variable geometry in the Amazon]. Revue Diogène,Chamanismo, Coll
Quadrige/PUF.
Commission d’enquête sur les sects [Commission of Inquiry into Cults]. (1995).
Rapport enregistré à la présidence de l’assemblée nationale le 22 décembre 1995)
[Report registered at the presidency of the national assembly on December 22,
1995]. http://www.assemblee-nationale.fr/rap-enq/r2468.asp
Deshayes, P. (2006). Les trois mondes du Santo Daime [The three worlds of the
Santo Daime]. Socio-Anthropologie, 17–18, 61–83. http://socio-anthropologie.
revues.org/index451.html
Dupuis, D. (2016). Les murmures de l’ayahuasca. Parcours rituel et transmission
culturelle à Takiwasi [The murmurs of ayahuasca: Ritual journey and cultural
transmission in Takiwasi] (Doctoral dissertation). École des Hautes Études en
Sciences Sociales.
Esquerre, A. (2009). La manipulation mentale – Sociologie des sectes en France
[Mind control: Sociology of cults in France]. Éditions Fayard.
Foucault, M. (2001). L’herméneutique du sujet [The hermeneutics of the subject].
Gallimard/Seuil.
Hervieu-Léger, D. (2001). La Religion en miettes ou la question des sectes [Reli-
gion in crumbs or the question of cults]. Calman-Lévy.
Kounen, J. (Director). (2004a). D´autres mondes [Other worlds] [Film].
Kounen, J. (Director). (2004b). Blueberry, l’expérience secrète [Blueberry, the secret
experience] [Film]
Labate, B. C. (2004). A literatura brasileira sobre as religiões ayahuasqueiras [The
Brazilian literature on ayahuasca religions. In B. C. Labate & W. S. Araujo
(Eds.), O uso ritual da ayahuasca [The ritual use of ayahuasca] (pp. 231–273).
Mercado das Letras.
Labate, B. C., & Feeney, K. (2011). Ayahuasca and the process of regulation in
Brazil and internationally: Implications and challenges. International Journal
of Drug Policy, 23(2), 154–161. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2011.06.006
Labate, B. C., Rose, I., & Santos, R. (2008). Religiões ayahuasqueiras, Um bal-
anço bibliográfico [Ayahuasca religions: A bibliographic assessment]. Mercado
das Letras.
Laplantine, F. (2007). Ethnopsychiatrie psychanalytique [Psychoanalytical eth-
nopsychiatry]. Beauchesne.
Miviludes (Mission interministérielle de vigilance et de lutte contre les dérives
sectaires). (2005). Rapport au Premier Ministre [Report to the Prime Minis-
ter]. http://www.derives-sectes.gouv.fr/sites/default/files/publications/francais/
Rapport_MIVILUDES_2005-2.pdf.
Miviludes (Mission interministérielle de vigilance et de lutte contre les dérives
sectaires). (n.d.). FAQ. http://www.derives-sectes.gouv.fr/faq.
Novaes, C. (2005–2006). L’expérience de l’ayahuasca et ses « états modifiés de
conscience » : Une étude transculturelle des récits des usagers urbains de l’aya-
huasca. Une lecture à travers le concept de l’inconscient selon Gilles Deleuze
[The experience of ayahuasca and its modified states of consciousness: A trans-
cultural study of the narratives of urban ayahuasca users. A reading applying
Gilles Deleuze’s theory of the unconscious] (Master’s thesis). Université de
Paris 13.
Novaes, C. (2011). L’Expérience urbaine de l’ayahuasca, Paysage des subjectivi-
tés contemporaines, Approche ethnopsychanalytique [The urban experience of
ayahuasca, landscapes of contemporary subjectivities, psychoanalytic approach]
(Doctoral dissertation). Université Paris Descartes Sorbonne Paris Cité.
Novaes, C. (2018). Paysages mosaïques. Des religions ayahuasqueiras brésiliennes
aux nouveaux agencements spirituels [Mosaic landscapes: From Brazilian aya-
huasquera religions to new spiritual assemblages]. In S. Baud (Ed.), Histoires
et usages des plantes psychotropes [Stories and uses of psychotropic plants]
(pp. 290–307). Imago.
Viveiros de Castro, E. (2002). O mármore e a murta, Sobre a inconstância da alma
selvagem [The marble and the myrtle: On the inconstancy of the wild soul]. In
A inconstância da alma selvagem e outros ensaios de antropologia [The incon-
stancy of the wild soul and other anthropological essays]. Cosac & Naify.
7 Ayahuasca and Freedom of
Religion in Australia
Entheogens in a Post-Colonial
Shadow
Amar Dhall, Torsten Wiedemann and
Manav Satija
Introduction
The framework that regulates the use of ayahuasca in Australia comprises
various sources of law at the federal, state, and territory levels. The interac-
tion between these different levels of regulation can be confusing, especially
when it comes to enforcing these laws. Understanding the legal implications
of using ayahuasca in the specific context of religious or spiritual ceremony
adds a substantial layer of complexity, as one needs to understand not only
the regulatory framework relating to ayahuasca more generally but also
the extent and nature of the protection of freedom of religion (FOR) under
Australian law.
FOR is protected, albeit limitedly, at the federal level and in at least two
Australian states/territories. While s116 of the Australian Constitution creates
a prima facie freedom of religion, the effect of this provision on the interpre-
tation, application, and enforcement of other laws is not immediately evident.
The Australian Constitution was explicitly written to federate six separate
colonies (which later became the states) into one nation-state. The preserva-
tion of individual rights was not the specific focus nor intention behind the
Constitution. As it currently stands, Australia stands apart from all other
modern liberal democracies in having no federal Bill of Rights. This adds
layers of complexity to a FOR-based challenge to the status-quo as Constitu-
tional rights, such as that provided under s116, tend to be applied narrowly.
FOR is also fundamental in international human rights treaties to
which Australia is a party; however, the extent to which ratification of
these instruments has any real effect at the domestic level is limited. Thus,
the uneasy situation exists where consumption of ayahuasca, irrespective
of whether it is used in a religious context, is subject to a blanket ban in
Australian domestic law, even though Australia has ratified relevant inter-
national treaties that seem to protect the rights of Australian citizens engag-
ing in religious ceremonies and practices.
It also must be noted that Australia was settled violently, and her Con-
stitution was drafted within the epoch in which many colonial powers
122 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-8

Ayahuasca and Freedom of Religion in Australia 123
leveraged the expansion of their empires by systematically undermining
and destroying indigenous cultural norms and spirituality. Despite the
appearance of pluralistic multiculturalism in contemporary Australia, a
conservative Christian hegemony is still very much evident in the politi-
cal-legal discourse in Australia, as evidenced by the recitation of the Lord’s
Prayer at the start of every parliamentary sitting. Any successful challenge
to the status quo will have to navigate this landscape of embedded biases
and unspoken prejudice artfully to rebirth a truly diverse Australia freed
from its blood-soaked colonial roots.
This chapter will tease out the complex relationships between various
levels of regulation and legislation across all Australian jurisdictions to
make the state of ayahuasca regulation clear in 2020. The legal grounds
for protecting religious or sacramental usage of ayahuasca under Austral-
ian laws relating to FOR, and the extent of that protection, will be con-
sidered. Finally, the failed 2017 submission to the Australian TGA made
by the União do Vegetal (UDV) will be briefly revisited to understand its
shortcomings.
Ayahuasca Use in Australia

In its strictest definition, the use of ayahuasca is quite rare in Australia, lim-
ited chiefly by the restricted availability of the two traditional ingredients,
Psychotria viridis and Banisteriopsis caapi. The restrictions on the impor-
tation of these ingredients tend to limit ayahuasca usage to small groups
who are either ignorant or defiant of relevant Australian laws. This includes
small groups of Santo Daime (SD), União do Vegetal (UDV) followers, and
ayahuasca tourists who have returned from South America with a passion
for traditional ayahuasca.
Fully prepared ayahuasca is often imported from Peru in a dehydrated
paste form. Mislabeled, it readily passes Australian customs controls and
comes, in its concentrated form, in a tiny package. The primary detec-
tion equipment at customs does not appear to identify either harmaline or
dimethyltryptamine (DMT). Accordingly, concentrate is only ever detected
if there is a reason for suspicion that justifies secondary analysis. Hence,
border detection of such imports is exceedingly rare.
There is, however, far more widespread use of ayahuasca analogs in Aus-
tralia. Local botanical sources of DMT are often combined with Peganum
harmala obtained from ethnic grocers or, to a much lesser extent and more
recently, with locally grown B. caapi. Over the years, DMT source trees
have become better yielding, and more regionally available species have been
discovered. The original scientific papers of the 1960s mentioned Acacia
maidenii (Muell et al., 1965) and the rare Acacia phlebophylla (Muell et al.,
1967), but ethnobotanical enthusiasts discovered DMT in Acacia obtusifo-
lia in the 1990s, and have since found higher yielding species such as Aca-
cia courtii, Acacia acuminata, and several others. These species cover most
124 Amar Dhall et al.
habitat types, making botanical source material available in most parts
of Australia. Some require extraction and purification for safer use, while
others are brewed as crude tea in the same way P. viridis is used.
Periodically, some online sellers offer imported Acacia confusa bark.
Some are adamant they are not breaking any laws, while others are moti-
vated by the potential profits despite the risks. Eventually, law enforcement
shuts them down, leaving a market opportunity for the next seller.
The two ayahuasca analog components are not always combined in the
same brew. Peganum harmala seeds are often simply chewed and swallowed
half an hour before the DMT-containing material is consumed. The DMT
component is often consumed as crudely crystallized tryptamine alkaloids,
especially if their botanical source was tannin-rich bark material rather
than Acacia phyllodes (Acacias have mostly phyllodes rather than true
leaves). Such reasonably accurate dosing with relatively pure and predict-
able material allows for individually tailored experiences. Ayahuasca ana-
logs are widespread in Australia and probably eclipse many other Western
countries with less restrictive laws on botanical source materials. Such use
is common in the alternative lifestyle and music festival communities.
Facilitators often provide ayahuasca and ayahuasca analog brew rituals
in small groups. The facilitators are rarely trained by any traditional sha-
man and often don’t have any other spiritual leadership background. They
are usually enthusiastic ayahuasca users who believe in the benefits of the
experience and want to share it with the broader community. It is rare for
facilitators to have any formal counseling or medical knowledge, which
occasionally leaves participants in psychological or physical peril, but this
is rare. Facilitators may use a variety of spiritual or ritual overlays or may
lack these entirely. Many Australian participants prefer an ayahuasca expe-
rience without religious or spiritual frameworks, but in contrast, they often
seek such authenticity when traveling to South America for the occasion.
Participation in SD and UDV rituals is limited mainly to individuals who
have already been initiated in Brazil, and the Australian groups are mostly
Brazilian migrants and visitors. Some individuals prefer to experience aya-
huasca alone or in an intimate setting with people they know well. Many
participants of the facilitated groups end up being more selective about the
people they share their experience with, eventually organizing their own
mini-rituals.
While not defined as ayahuasca, there is another use of the combination
of DMT and harmaline/harmine that plays an important role in Australia.
A smokable herbal mix of DMT and harmaline soaked onto herbs invented
in Australia and referred to as changa provides the user with a short expe-
rience that approximates some of the effects of ayahuasca brews (Palmer,
2014). Changa is often the way curious seekers are introduced to the experi-
ence, and it appears to play a significant role in the popularity of ayahuasca
in Australia (St. John, 2015).
Australian Drug Laws
The framework relating to drug laws in Australia is complex. It consists
of legislation at the federal and state level and is distributed over multi-
ple acts and jurisdictions. As will be explored in more detail later in this
chapter, the Australian Constitution was established to allocate power and
responsibilities between federal and state/territory governments. Section
51 of the Constitution sets out the topics or “heads of power” that the
Federal Commonwealth can exclusively legislate on; any subject outside of
this list remains the domain of the states. Significantly, religion is not one
of the enumerated heads of power. The majority of health and drug laws
are state-based; however, there are notable exceptions, as will be presently
seen.
The federal government has created a “Poisons List” that identifies sub-
stances deemed toxic and made illegal. The Poisons List incorporates the
Standard for the Uniform Schedule of Medicines and Poisons (SUSMP)
made by the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) (TGA, 2016).
It has no actual legal standing itself but is adopted by the states and incor-
porated into relevant legislation. Schedule 9 of the SUSMP includes sub-
stances that have a potential for abuse and covers many illegal drugs in the
drug acts.
Generally, several common offenses of possession, use, manufacture, sup-
ply, and importation of drugs can be found in state and territory-based leg-
islation. The objective seriousness of an offense relating to possession, use,
manufacture, supply, or importation is ordinarily measured with reference
to the type of drug and the quantity of the drug. In most legislation, drugs
are categorized by type in different schedules; each contains substances
based on their assumed qualitative harmfulness. While the classification
regime relating to quantity differs slightly across states, the standard for-
mula for measuring amount is to determine by weight whether an amount
of drugs is a small, trafficable, commercial, or large commercial quantity of
the drug. The quantity of the drug contributes to the objective seriousness
of a criminal matter and carries with it a presumption of the intended use.
If a person is found, for example, to hold a trafficable quantity of a sched-
uled substance, then the legal presumption, until the defendant can prove
otherwise, will be that they intend to supply the drug rather than personally
use it.
Federal Drug Laws

Part 9.1 of the Criminal Code Act 1995 (“Cth”) aims, among other things,
to prevent the import and export of “border-controlled” drugs. The range
of border-controlled drugs is similar to that in state-based legislation, such
as the Drug Misuse and Trafficking Act 1985 (NSW). The emphasis of
these provisions is on the importation or attempted importation of border-
controlled drugs or border-controlled plants, and separate offenses are pro-
vided for the importation of a commercial quantity (s307.1), a marketable
quantity (s307.2), and in relation to any other quantity (s307.3).
To be found guilty of one of these offenses, the prosecution must prove
beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant imported a border-controlled
substance and knew the substance was border-controlled or was reckless
as to whether or not it was a border-controlled substance. The legislation
defines “import” such that it includes bringing the substance into Australia,
as well as “to deal with” the substance in connection with its importation.
Accordingly, the Act also provides offenses related to the possession of a
commercial quantity (s307.5), a marketable quantity (s307.6), or in rela-
tion to any other quantity (s307.7) of imported border-controlled drugs or
imported border-controlled plants.
The term “reckless” means that the defendant foresaw a substantial risk
of the substance being a border-controlled plant but went ahead with their
actions regardless. This provides the basis for the prosecution arguing, for
example, that the importation of DMT and harmaline cannot be excused
based on the defendant’s ignorance of their scheduling status. Schedule 2
of the Criminal Code Regulations 2019 (Cth) lists DMT and harmaline as
border-controlled drugs for the Criminal Code Act 1995 (Cth). Accord-
ingly, relevant offenses under ss 307.1, 307.2, 307.3, 307.5, 307.6, or 307.7
can be charged in relation to the importation or possession of imported
DMT and harmaline.
The interplay between this legislation and relevant state/territory crim-
inal legislation becomes complex in practice. A separate offense is created
under s308.1 of the Criminal Code Act 1995 (Cth) in relation to possessing
a controlled drug (as opposed to a border-controlled drug). Schedule 1 of
the Criminal Code Regulations 2019 (Cth) lists DMT, but not harmaline,
as a controlled drug for s308.1. Section 308.1 seems to have the sole pur-
pose of allowing a possession charge that would ordinarily be dealt with
under the relevant state/territory jurisdiction to be instead dealt with along-
side other federal offenses. However, prosecutors still often seek to split
charges and prosecute possession charges under applicable state law rather
than the Federal statute.
Before the enactment of the Criminal Code, the primary statute that dealt
with offenses related to the import and export of prohibited substances
was the Customs Act 1901 (Cth); however, since the Criminal Code, many
crimes, particularly those relating to the import and export of narcotic
substances, have been repealed from the Customs Act and placed into the
Criminal Code. The Customs Act, however, still contains several offenses
related to prohibited imports and exports at section 233(b) and (c) that are
routinely used, and it seems, sometimes favored, over equivalent offenses
in the Criminal Code in the prosecution of crimes related to psychoactive
plants and analogs.
When a prosecutor exercises a preference to deal with particular imports
as “prohibited imports” under the Customs Act, rather than as a “border-
controlled drug” under the Criminal Code, one could infer any number of
things. It could, for example, suggest that prosecutors are uncomfortable
with categorizing substances like DMT and harmaline at the same level
of objective seriousness as traditional narcotic substances. Another rea-
son could be that prosecutors prefer the expediency of the sentencing pro-
cess provided by section 233AB(1) of the Customs Act, which provides a
capped, fixed formula for courts to determine appropriate fines for offenses
under s 233(b) and (c). Such penalty provisions not only allow violations
to be dealt with in an efficient manner that does not involve a custodial
sentence but also, perhaps, relieves the court and law enforcement agencies
from the daunting task of sentencing appropriately about rare substances
that are generally not well understood.
State and Territory Laws

DMT and harmala alkaloids are scheduled, to some extent, in every state
and territory in Australia. The definitions and classifications of precisely
what is scheduled vary between each state. The following table outlines
how each different state/territory approaches the scheduling of DMT and
harmala:
State/ What is Name of Legal Comments

Territory scheduled Instrument
Queensland DMT; Drugs Misuse Any “thing” that contains a

harmaline Act 1986 scheduled substance is deemed
(Qld); Drug to be that substance.
misuse
Regulation
1987
New South DMT; Drug Misuse Harmaline & harmine are
Wales harmaline/ and scheduled at quantities similar
harmine Trafficking to LSD, so the highest penalty
Act 1985 bracket starts at a mere 2
(NSW) g, which is equivalent in
severity to 1 kg of heroin. Any
preparation that contains an
illegal substance is deemed to
be that substance.
Victoria DMT; Drugs,
harmaline/ Poisons and
harmine Controlled
Substances
Act 1981
(Vic)
(Continued)
State/ What is Name of Legal Comments

Territory scheduled Instrument
South DMT; Controlled There is a wide scope to this

Australia harmaline/ Substances legislation as it includes any
harmine Act 1984 “substance” that contains
(SA); these compounds. The act
Controlled defines “substance” to include
Substances live plants.
(Controlled
Drugs,
Precursors
and Plants)
Regulations
2014 (SA)
Western DMT; any Misuse of s9 of the SUSMP includes
Australia substance Drugs Act harmala alkaloids
listed in 1981 (WA)
s9 of the
SUSMP
Tasmania DMT, Misuse of This includes all preparations
harmala Drugs Act but does not appear to include
alkaloids 2001 (Tas) live plants
Northern DMT, Misuse of This includes any substance
Territory harmaline/ Drugs Act that contains the scheduled
harmine 1990 (NT) drug. The Act also states
that any plant that contains a
scheduled drug is a prohibited
plant.
Australian DMT, Criminal Code This includes any substance that
Capital harmaline/ Regulation contains the scheduled drug.
Territory harmine, 2005 (ACT)
Ayahuasca
vine
Enforcement of Australian Drug Laws Relating to

Ayahuasca
While the drug laws relating to ayahuasca are stringent in Australia, it is
difficult to provide a clear picture of how these laws are being enforced
in practice. This is mainly due to the lack of reported cases relating to
the prosecution of ayahuasca and DMT/harmaline-related charges. In the
absence of such evidence, the authors engaged in confidential personal com-
munication with five separate defendants who were prosecuted for relevant
offenses between 2005 and 2017 to obtain an anecdotal outlook on how
these laws were being enforced.
Only one such case was ayahuasca imported in its traditional liquid brew
form. The defendant faced several charges under NSW drug laws in the
NSW Local Court jurisdiction regarding two doses of ayahuasca imported
in a 2-liter bottle. The charges included importation, possession, and sup-
ply. Due to the minuscule dosage amount required for harmaline in NSW
law and the fact that admixtures (e.g., water) are assumed to be included
in drug weight, the offense was considered, at least at the first instance, at
the highest level of severity. This initial assessment of objective seriousness,
combined with the fact that the defendant was charged with several differ-
ent charges, including importation, possession, and supply, led to the impo-
sition of restrictive bail conditions. The authors also do not know which
charges the defendant was ultimately sentenced with. Nevertheless, the out-
come of this matter was that the charges were found proven; however, the
defendant was released without conviction and placed on a two-year “good
behavior” bond.
Based on the information that the authors have received, seizures and
charges for DMT or harmaline-containing plants are more common than
charges relating to ayahuasca, both as imports and in possession. Anecdo-
tal accounts of cases in Victoria, NSW, and Queensland suggests that in
these states, prosecutors have often appeared hesitant to pursue charges
for DMT/harmaline, at least in the circumstances where the defendants
were also charged with offenses relating to other more common substances.
The authors were told, for example, that charges for indictable quanti-
ties of DMT had, on some occasions, been dropped where the defendant
entered guilty pleas for minor personal amounts of ketamine, cannabis, or
MDMA.
It is essential to state that these outcomes do not necessarily imply that
Australian courts look upon ayahuasca or DMT/harmaline-related offenses
leniently. Prosecutors routinely drop some drug charges in favor of other
drug charges to have matters completed in an expedited way through a
guilty plea and sentencing. Judges are also bound to formulate sentences
in criminal matters based on several factors, including the objective seri-
ousness of the case, the defendant’s prior offending history, any prior good
character, and circumstances where deterrence from reoffending is not a
consideration. That being said, two different hypotheses relating to aya-
huasca and DMT/harmaline offenses could be made based on the anecdo-
tal accounts collected. The first is that prosecutors are not overly keen to
pursue these charges in court; this could be related to the relative obscurity
of the substances themselves or other factors. The second is that ayahuasca
and DMT/harmaline offenses do not appear to attract some extraordinary
notion of harmfulness or seriousness in judges’ eyes.
Freedom of Religion in Australia

There are three relevant sources of law pertinent to FOR in Australia.
The first is the Australian Constitution, the second is state/territory-based
human rights legislation, and the third is relevant international human
rights treaties to which Australia is a party.
Australian Constitution
Australia’s system of government is a constitutional monarchy. When it
was settled, it was not settled as a single country, but instead, was initially
established as six separate colonies. In 1901, these six colonies were feder-
ated into a single nation-state, with each of those colonies becoming one
of the states in what became known as the Commonwealth of Australia.
The document that empowered this change was the Federal Constitution.
However, unlike the US constitution, the Australian constitution was not
intended to create rights and state the liberties of Australian citizens. The
purpose of the Australian constitution was to allocate power between what
had, up until federation, been independent British colonies and the newly
created federal parliament. Consequently, there are very few rights explic-
itly written into the Australian constitution.
Without this context, it is often shocking to people who become aware
that Australia is the only modern liberal democracy in the world without
either a Bill of Rights as part of our constitution or Commonwealth-level
protection of human rights in the form of legislation. While disturbing, this
does not mean that there are no federal protections available to citizens
of Australia; instead, there is a mosaic of protections spread across the
Australian constitution and Federal legislation, and some protections are
emerging from case law (i.e., common law).
Of relevance to the discussion in this chapter is s116 of the Australian
constitution, which states:
The Commonwealth shall not make any law for establishing any reli-
gion, or for imposing any religious observance, or for prohibiting the
free exercise of any religion, and no religious test shall be required as a
qualification for any office or public trust under the Commonwealth.
Reading the two relevant phrases in s116 together, “The Commonwealth

shall not make any law… prohibiting the free exercise of any religion…”
may evoke the sense that there is wide-ranging protection of FOR in Aus-
tralia. However, a closer study reveals this is not the case. Before looking at
the state of the law relating to the two phrases, it is salient to acknowledge
Evans’ (2009) two global observations about the narrow scope of the free-
dom afforded under s116 that are relevant to the current discussion. First,
she identified that s116 applies only to laws the Commonwealth passes and
does not bind the states (i.e., states can make laws that establish a religion,
impose religious observance, and so on). The second reason is that the Aus-
tralian High Court has interpreted s116 “very restrictively so that it has
little force” (Evans, p. 6). In simple terms, this is because the High Court
has taken the view that they will not strike down laws that merely have the
impact or effect of prohibiting or restricting religious freedom; rather, the
law must have the explicit purpose of limiting religious freedom. This point
will be made more evident in the following discussion. The keywords from
s116 that warrant further investigation when contemplating a FOR-based
claim in favor of the UDV are “prohibiting,” “free exercise,” and “religion.”
“Religion”
The scope of protection afforded by s116 is restricted only to religious
beliefs. This has the effect of limiting a claim of a breach of s116 to a rec-
ognized religion in Australian law. It would seem that the prima facie case
to establish the UDV as a religion is strong because of the UDV’s fusion of
Christianity (i.e., a recognized religion) with what had been an indigenous
spiritual technology. However, this also means that other individuals or
groups making s116 claims concerning the sacramental use of ayahuasca
who are not associated or connected with a recognized religion may face
difficulty in these claims on this basis.
The High Court case of the Church of the New Faith v Commissioner
of Pay-roll Tax (Vict) (“the Scientology Case”) gives the most careful con-
sideration of the definition of religion for Australian law. This case related
to a tax-exempt status claim for “religious institutions” under Australian
tax law made by the Church of Scientology. The Commissioner of Payroll
Tax had the view that Scientology was not a religion for the purposes of
this exemption. This decision was challenged. In their judgment, the Jus-
tices of the High Court provided three distinct definitions of religion. The
combination of these three tests provides the current legal standard against
which the question of whether or not a particular belief system, such as
the religion practiced by the UDV, could make a claim using s116 of the
Australian constitution as a basis.
Chief Justice Mason and Justice Brennan provided the first test at [136]
namely, that there is “belief in a supernatural Being, Thing or Principle;
and second, the acceptance of canons of conduct in order to give effect to
that belief.” The Justices noted at [141] that, of primary importance, was
the sincerity of the adherents to the faith, rather than the existence of any
additional criteria.
The second test was provided by Justices Wilson and Deane at [173], who
based their test on indicia “derived by empirical observations of accepted
religions.” Their test likewise requires a belief in the supernatural, but also
considered it essential that the religion offers insight into man’s relationship
to the supernatural and our relationship to our place in the universe. They
also asserted at [174] that other indicia should be considered, such as the
necessity for a religion to specify a code of conduct for its believers and that
those believers constitute an identifiable group.
Justice Murphy articulated the third test. Rather than setting out crite-
ria that need to be met for a belief system to be classified as a “religion,”
Murphy J stated at [151] that the Court required only to “state what is suf-
ficient, even if not necessary, to bring a body which claims to be religious
within the category.” Aside from the need for a group of people to practice
their system of beliefs as a religion, Murphy J stated at [151] that it was
sufficient that the
beliefs or practices are a revival of, or resemble, earlier cults…[if they]…

believe in a supernatural Being or Beings [including the worship of a
God, spirit, or the stars]…if they “claim to be religious and offer[s]…a
way to find meaning and purpose in life
or if they are indigenous religions.

This last aspect of Murphy’s judgment provides a possible basis for a
FOR-based argument about consuming ayahuasca by entheogen users who
fall outside the so-called ayahuasca churches. However, it is not simply the
case that this third test is so broad in scope that it automatically legitimizes
all sacramental consumption of psychoactive substances as acts associated
with a “religion.” Instead, Murphy’s judgment—which, to reiterate, was a
minority view of the court—illuminates possible jurisprudential grounds to
explore further in subsequent FOR-based discussions.
“Prohibiting”
When evaluating the scope of FOR protected under the Australian constitu-
tion, it is crucial to remain aware that the wording of s116 does not create
a positive right in favor of freedom of religion; rather, it only prohibits the
Commonwealth from enacting legislation that impinges upon the practice of a
religion. What this means is, at best, the UDV (or anyone else asserting a FOR-
type argument under the Australian Constitution) can only argue that the
scheduling provisions breach their FOR rather than maintain a positive FOR.
It is, at this stage, essential to recall the previous discussion; specifically,
that s116 cannot restrict the states from enacting such laws. Moreover, the
Australian legal system adopts the doctrine of legislative supremacy that
provides that Australia’s highest source of law is the legislation enacted
by the federal parliament. The justification for this is that the legislation
drafted by elected officials reflects the will of the voting public and, as such,
is central to the “representative” part of representative democracy. Accord-
ingly, if the court reads the current laws as not falling afoul of s116, then
there is a high probability that other avenues for challenging the legitimacy
of the existing provisions in common law freedom of religion arguments
cases would be dismissed.
“Free Exercise”
Once the UDV (or anyone else seeking to use a FOR-based argument to
argue for legal protection in relation to the consumption of sacramental aya-
huasca) is granted standing to be heard, the primary issue becomes whether
the type of conduct that can be protected under s116 can be extended to
include the consumption of ayahuasca. It ought to be noted that the tra-
jectory of the Australian High Court’s protection of beliefs under s116 has
been narrowed over time, such as in the unreported case of Daniels v Dep-
uty Commissioner of Taxation (2008) SASC 431. In this case, the South
Australian Supreme Court dismissed a claim by a man who refused to pay
part of his taxation bill on the basis that the money would be used to fund
abortions. Daniels’ argument was based on the notion that the provision
of abortions conflicted with his religious beliefs. The conduct he sought
to protect was the partial non-payment of his taxation bill. This argument
was rejected because the behavior was not sufficiently connected to the
religious experience. This is an essential point upon which the sacramental
consumption of ayahuasca can be distinguished, as drinking the brew is
the sole gateway through which members of the UDV commune with the
mystical.
That being said, both the Jehovah’s Witness Case and the Scientology
Case identified that the scope of s116 equally protects both religious con-
duct and belief. The test supplied by Mason ACJ and Brennan J at [135]
in the Scientology Case is that the plaintiff must show a “real connection”
between the conduct in question and the ontology of the religion to be pro-
tected under s116. Despite this recognition by the Australian High Court,
no successful claim has yet been made using the “free exercise of religion”
as the basis of the claim. The reason for this is that that court has adopted
the view that the law being challenged has to have the restriction of reli-
gious freedom apparent on the face of the legislation.
State/Territory Based Human Rights Legislation

In the absence of a Federal Bill of Rights, some Australian states and terri-
tories have enacted human rights legislation to protect the rights of people
living in their jurisdictions. Victoria and the Australian Capital Territory
(ACT) have enacted relevant human rights legislation. However, other
states and territories are in the process of doing so at the time of writing
this chapter. Both the Victorian Legislation (the Charter of Human Rights
and Responsibilities Act 2006 [Vic]) and the ACT legislation (Human
Rights Act 2004 [ACT]) contain an almost identical provision relating to
FOR. The provision in the Victorian Charter reads:
14 of thought, conscience, religion, and belief
1 Every person has the right to freedom of thought, conscience, religion,

and belief, including—
a the freedom to have or to adopt a religion or belief of their choice; and
b the freedom to demonstrate his or her religion or belief in worship,
observance, practice, and teaching, either individually or as part of
a community, in public or in private.
2 A person must not be coerced or restrained in a way that limits his or
her freedom to have or adopt a religion or belief in worship, obser-
vance, practice, or teaching.
The relevant provision in the Human Rights Act 2004 (ACT) is also at sec-
tion 14 and is identical, except for one minor difference. Whereas s 14(2) of
the Victorian Charter says that “a person must not be coerced or restrained
in a way,” s 14(2) of the Human Rights Act 2004 (ACT) says “No-one must
be coerced in a way…”
These provisions would appear, at first glance, to provide Victorian and
ACT citizens with reasonably strong protection of their FOR in a manner
that is not found at the Federal level. However, what is important to note
is that both pieces of legislation have a somewhat limited purview in terms
of what remedial action they could provide ACT and Victorian residents
seeking to claim legal protection of their sacramental use of ayahuasca.
Neither instrument creates a right of action regarding a breach of their
human rights. Put another way, an ACT or Victorian cannot legally enforce
a violation of s 14 or any other right included in the legislation in the
courts. The purpose of both the Victorian Charter and ACT Human Rights
Act is to ensure that new laws in both jurisdictions are being drafted and
existing laws being interpreted to be compatible with the human rights of
residents.
In the ACT, a party to an existing proceeding under other legislation
(a person cannot commence proceedings under the Human Rights Act by
itself, they must already have some other proceeding before a court) can ask
the Supreme Court of the ACT to consider the other legislation to deter-
mine whether it is compatible with the human rights contained within the
Human Rights Act. If the Court finds the legislation incompatible, it can
issue a Declaration of Incompatibility. Given that Declarations under the
law are not legally binding, such a Declaration would not have the effect of
invalidating the offending legislation. The process is identical in Victoria;
however, they also add requirements concerning the scrutiny of proposed
new legislation in that state. Any member of the Victorian Parliament intro-
ducing a bill into a House of Parliament must arrange for a Statement of
Compatibility to be prepared concerning that proposed bill to ensure that
parliamentarians voting on new legislation in Victoria are aware of its
human rights compatibility. While these state/territory-based human rights
instruments are undoubtedly a positive development in Australian law in
the previously discussed absence of a Federal Bill of Rights, unfortunately,
they provide little direct protection for the FOR.
International Human Rights Treaties

Australia has certain international law obligations concerning the human
rights of people within the Australian jurisdiction. These obligations arise
because Australia is a signatory to particular international human rights
law instruments. Of particular relevance in the present context is Australia’s
obligations as a signatory of the International Covenant on Civil and Polit-
ical Rights. Article 18 of the ICCPR provides:
Article 18
1 Everyone shall have the right to freedom of thought, conscience, and
religion. This right shall include freedom to have or to adopt a religion
or belief of his choice, and freedom, either individually or in commu-
nity with others, and in public or private, to manifest his religion or
belief in worship, observance, practice, and teaching.
2 No one shall be subject to coercion that would impair his freedom to
have or to adopt a religion or belief of his choice.
3 Freedom to manifest one’s religion or beliefs may be subject only to
such limitations prescribed by law and are necessary to protect public
safety, order, health, or morals or the fundamental rights and freedoms.
The normative content of Article 18 has been elaborated by the Human

Rights Committee (HRC) in its General Comment 22: The right to free-
dom of thought, conscience, and religion (Art. 18). The HRC describes
Article 18 as “far-reaching and profound” and in the following two rele-
vant passages speaks to whom and what the provision covers:
2. Article 18 protects theistic, non-theistic, and atheistic beliefs and

the right not to profess any religion or belief. The terms “belief” and
“religion” are to be broadly construed. Article 18 is not limited in its
application to traditional religions or religions and beliefs with institu-
tional characteristics or practices analogous to those of conventional
religions…
4. The freedom to manifest religion or belief in worship, observance,
practice, and teaching encompasses a broad range of acts. The concept
of worship extends to ritual and ceremonial acts giving direct expres-
sion to belief, as well as various practices integral to such actions,
including the building of places of worship, the use of ritual formulae
and objects, the display of symbols, and the observance of holidays and
days of rest.
The combination of these two passages leaves little doubt that sacramental
usage of ayahuasca would be considered a legitimate expression of religious
belief for Article 18. There are, however, two significant factors that need
to be considered to evaluate the effect of Article 18 in practice. The first
relates to the effect and enforceability of Article 18 domestically within
Australia, while the second relates to how Article 18 could be enforced
internationally.
While Australia has agreed to be bound by major international human
rights treaties, they do not form part of Australia’s domestic law unless
explicitly incorporated into Australian law through legislation. What
this means, in effect, is that Article 18, or any other provision in a treaty
Australia has ratified, cannot be enforced in Australian courts until specific
legislation is enacted to incorporate Article 18 into Australian law. This
chapter has shown that no such legislation exists. The rationale behind
this is that treaties are signed by members of the Executive branch of the
Australian government while “making laws” is the sole responsibility and
privilege of Parliament. As signing a treaty does not automatically make
it Australian law, the question has long been asked what effect signing a
treaty has domestically. In the case of Minister for Immigration and Ethnic
Affairs v Teoh (1995) 183 CLR 273, the High Court attempted to resolve
this question by applying the pre-existing administrative law doctrine of
legitimate expectation to the scenario of treaties. The key passage from
Teoh, which explains the doctrine in context, can be found at [291]:
Ratification of a convention is a positive statement by the executive

government of this country to the world and to the Australian people
that the executive government and its agencies will act in accordance
with the Convention. That positive statement is an adequate founda-
tion for a legitimate expectation, absent statutory or executive indica-
tions to the contrary, those administrative decision-makers will act in
conformity with the Convention.
The effect of this provision is that, even though Article 18 did not auto-
matically become part of Australian Law when the ICCPR was ratified
and has not been subsequently enshrined by domestic legislation, adminis-
trative decision-makers are subject to a legitimate expectation (as opposed
to a legally enforceable obligation) to act in conformity with the provision.
However, it is essential to note that, since Teoh, the Court has gradually
narrowed the doctrine in subsequent cases. It is also important to note that
this doctrine has generally been applied to give rise to a procedural rather
than a substantive right (i.e., where a decision-maker proposes to make
a decision inconsistent with a legitimate expectation, procedural fairness
requires the person affected to be given notice and an adequate opportunity
to respond to that course).
This leaves consideration of how Article 18 could be enforced interna-
tionally. The First Optional Protocol establishes the enforcement mech-
anisms related to the ICCPR to International Covenant on Civil and
Political Rights. Australia is a signatory to this Optional Protocol meaning
that Australian citizens may bring a case relating to the breach of an ICCPR
right before the HRC. Were an Australian citizen to bring such a claim and
was successful, the HRC could find against Australia, but can only make
recommendations to the Australian government about how it could amend
its laws to comply with the ICCPR. This leaves it to the government’s will
to comply with or ignore the HRC’s recommendation.
Nonetheless, if a person bought such a claim about Article 18, the HRC
would likely be faced with a question of reasonable limitations. Interna-
tional human rights law recognizes that few rights are absolute and rea-
sonable limits may be placed on most rights and freedoms. Article 18(3)
clarifies that the FOR can be subject to limitations as long as they are pre-
scribed by law and necessary for the reasons provided. The restrictions on
importation, possession, use and supply of DMT/harmala described in Part
2 of this paper are in place on the premise that these substances are, rightly
or wrongly, considered to be dangerous to public safety. In the view of the
authors, it is highly likely that if an Australian citizen were to make a claim
before the HRC concerning a breach of Article 18 of ICCPR, the Australian
Government would argue that the restriction on FOR was necessary to pro-
tect public safety and health, and therefore allowable under Article 18(3).
Given the pervasive dominance in mainstream institutions of the idea that
all psychoactive substances are harmful and dangerous, this is an argument
that would likely be difficult to overcome.
The Socio-Legal Landscape

There is a secondary challenge faced by those seeking to change the sta-
tus quo: the process within the law of determining legality and illegality
and a deeper, pervasive cultural shadow that feeds a general perception of
psychoactive substances. This perception provides a simplistic and errone-
ous syllogism becoming embedded in cultural-legal discourse in Australia.
Stated as simply as possible:
All psychoactive drugs are harmful.

Ayahuasca is a psychoactive drug.
Therefore, ayahuasca is harmful.
This perception is deeply integrated into the Australian zeitgeist. It has

resulted in the systematic treatment of indigenous usage of entheogenic
compounds as being in the same category as recreational drugs. The phrase
“recreational drug” itself is a term that comes loaded with the baggage of
decades of propaganda proliferated as part of the War on Drugs. While
some people may be well informed of the nuances of the complex rela-
tionship between people and neuropharmacology, many people, including
judges and politicians, are unaware of the full scope of entheogen usage
discourse. There is also a startling lack of ethnic and gender diversity in
the Australian judicial and political environment. The people who decide
about Australia’s legal position on drugs are predominantly white, male,
Christian, and middle class. This creates an insidious and subtle obstacle to
overcome related to judges’ cognitive structures and functioning.
The theory of “legal coherentism” describes this mechanism. The primary
purpose of a legal dispute is to synthesize complex matters to produce a
binary statement of legality or illegality. This is an intricate process requir-
ing a tremendous level of cognitive synthesis, utilizing the answers to the
myriad questions that lead judges to their final decision. Decision-makers
ultimately arrive at the conclusion they believe to be most compelling. This
they do by discarding the possible interpretations of the matter that do not
cohere with their preferred position. The position that the decision-maker
will find most compelling is determined, not only by their legal reasoning
but also heavily influenced by that person’s biological, religious, and cul-
tural background. Putting this another way, judges make their decisions
in response to the facts and evidence presented to them and make deci-
sions that “fit” their pre-existing value frame. This aspect of legal decision
making is not widely understood. As a result, judges will create and apply
so-called “objective” tests without realizing their subjectivity in applying
the law and reaching a decision.
Simon (2004, p. 517) observes that the “cognitive system [of the judge]
imposes coherence on complex decisions… throughout the decision-
making process [emphasis original].” Because this occurs at every decision
point along the way, “at the culmination of the process, the decisionmaker’s
mental model is skewed toward conformity with the emerging decision”
(Simon, 2004, p. 518). The decision-maker has a complex (cognitively) con-
structed network of concepts, ideas, beliefs, values, and responses to feel-
ings. It is an unconscious cognitive process.
Notwithstanding the growing weight of scholarly evidence showing the
lack of harm caused by ayahuasca, one problem is the lack of ethnic and
cultural diversity in the Australian High Court and the overrepresentation
of moderately conservative, middle-class, white men with a traditional
Christian value set. Given the homogeneity of the legal “fraternity” (the
routine use of this term itself emphasizes our point), there is a limited scope
for judges to understand and empathize with issues that are so vastly differ-
ent from that experienced by the judges themselves, such as issues raised by
someone wishing to use s116 as a way of protecting their ability to consume
entheogens. While many judges strive to maintain as open a mind as possi-
ble, their cognitive structures mean that they will inevitably interpret and
apply the law in a way that is coherent with their complex concepts, ideas,
beliefs, and values.
UDV TGA Submission

In early 2016, The Australian Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA)
received a request by the UDV to amend the scheduling of teas contain-
ing low concentrations (0.25 mg/mL) of DMT that would allow exemp-
tions from the highly restrictive drug schedule. Fifteen individuals and
organizations made submissions in support of this application, but ulti-
mately, the TGA adopted the position that public safety overrides religious
freedoms and maintained the existing restrictions.
This application was poorly thought out in several regards. The submis-
sion, for example, only addressed DMT but neglected to seek an exemption
for harmaline/harmine. It also failed to elaborate on the practicalities of
producing such a low concentration tea without exceeding the proposed
limits at any stage of the process. Low concentration also does not address
total dose, which the TGA committee pointed out as a risk factor.
Perhaps the most prominent issue was that the TGA relies on the states to
endorse its proposed restrictions and enforce them under state law. In con-
trast, the UDV’s application focused on an Australia-wide constitutional
FOR approach. Such an approach ignores the legislative landscape relevant
to DMT regulation in Australia, but this FOR approach is difficult to argue
for the reasons provided in this chapter.
One positive outcome of this and previous applications, such as that pre-
viously made in relation to Salvia divinorum, is that the TGA is increasingly
becoming well-versed in the concept of synthetic and natural entheogenic
substances for shamanic and religious use, as is shown by their detailed
responses.
Conclusion
This chapter has attempted to demonstrate why the regulatory framework
in Australia that applies to ayahuasca is complex and why FOR-based argu-
ments relating to the sacramental use of ayahuasca are not straightforward
to make. While there are some interweaving protections regarding FOR in
Australia, these are not absolute and have historically been interpreted nar-
rowly by Australian courts. Therefore, if advocates are to have any mean-
ingful chance of success, the challenge is to engineer such legal arguments
diligently and elegantly.
Notwithstanding the limited basis for making such FOR-based claims,
these pathways exist. To walk down them, advocates need to consider
the law itself, as well as the broader socio-legal implications unique to
Australia. Australia has a brutal colonial history related to First Nations
peoples, and many deeply embedded institutional biases are present in
the current legal and political system. These biases continue to invalidate
indigenous ways of being, including notions of indigenous spirituality.
As has been explored in this chapter, the other factor to consider is the
homogeneity of the legal profession as predominantly white, Christian,
and male. Judges from this background will inevitably interpret and apply
the laws coherently with their beliefs and values. The “elegance” of any
well-engineered legal arguments mentioned above would need to account
for these factors.
This being said, there is little doubt that, as we move beyond 2022,
the world is changing in many ways, not the least of which is the way
psychoactive substances are being appreciated for how they bring about
healing and spiritual insight. MDMA is undergoing clinical study in many
jurisdictions. The Australian TGA is due to report in February 2021 on a
submission made by the not-for-profit group, Mind Medicine Australia,
seeking approval for MDMA and psilocybin-assisted psychotherapy to
become accessible to the Australian people. Today, such requests receive
serious consideration. This would have been unthinkable even five years
ago. While medicinal and mental health issues are at the fore with propos-
als for MDMA-assisted psychotherapeutic trials, ayahuasca use can also
draw from Australians’ currently limited right to express their freedom of
religion. The authors hope that the material provided in this chapter will
aid any future FOR-based application for the sacramental consumption of
ayahuasca.
References
Australian Government. (2004). Human Rights Act 2004 (ACT). https://
www.legislation.act.gov.au/a/2004-5
Charter of Human Rights and Responsibilities Act 2006. (2006). (Vic).
ht tps: //w w w.law.cornell.edu /women-and-justice /resource /char ter_of _
human_rights_and_responsibilities_act_(victoria)
Criminal Code Act 1995. (Cth). (1995). https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/
C2021C00183
Evans, C. (2009) Legal Aspects of the Protection of Religious Freedoms in Aus-
tralia, Report, Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. https://
humanrights.gov.au/sites/default/files/content/frb/papers/Legal_%20Aspects.
pdf
First Optional Protocol to International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights,
16 December, 1966. (1966). https://www.ohchr.org/en/professionalinterest/
pages/opccpr1.aspx
General Comment 22: The right to freedom of thought, conscience and reli-
gion (Art. 18) (CCPR/C/21/Rev.1/Add.4, General Comment No. 22). https://
www.tga.gov.au/consultation-invitation/consultation-proposed-amendments-
poisons-standard-acms-meeting-july-2016
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. (1966). https://www.ohchr.
org/en/professionalinterest/pages/ccpr.aspx
Muell, F., Fitzgerald J. S., & Sioumis, A. A. (1965). Alkaloids of the Australian
Leguminosae – The occurrence of methylated tryptamines in Acacia maidenii.
Australian Journal of Chemistry, 18, 433–434.
Muell, F., Rovelli, B., & Vaughan, G. N. (1967). Alkaloids of acacia. I. NbNb-
Dimethyltryptamine in Acacia phlebophylla. Australian Journal of Chemistry,
20(6), 1299–1300.
Palmer, J. (2014). Articulations: On the utilisation and meanings of psychedelics.
Anastomosis Books.
Simon, D., (2004). A third view of the black box: Cognitive coherence in legal
decision making. The University of Chicago Law Review, 2, 511–586.
St. John, G. (2015). Mystery school in hyperspace: A cultural history of DMT.
Atlantic Books.
Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA). (2016). Scheduling delegate’s final deci-
sions, July 2016. https://www.tga.gov.au/book-page/44-nn-dimethyltryptamine
Cases
Church of the New Faith v Commissioner of Pay-roll Tax (Vict) (“the Scientology
Case”) [1983] HCA 40; (1983) 154 CLR 120 (27 October 1983)
Daniels v Deputy Commissioner of Taxation (2008) SASC 431
Minister for Immigration and Ethnic Affairs v Teoh (1995) 183 CLR 273
8 A Genealogy of the
Ayahuasca Cultural Heritage
Registration Process in Brazil
Beatriz Caiuby Labate and
Glauber Loures de Assis
Introduction: A Genealogical Proposal

In this chapter, we focus on the process of registering ayahuasca as cul-
tural heritage in Brazil. Our aim will be to identify the key actors and the
struggles, disputes, and alliances that have formed in this setting, analyzing
the historical processes and social relations influencing the movement of
registering ayahuasca as cultural heritage in the country. For the purposes
of simplification, we refer to this task as the production of a “genealogy.”
We look to explore the cultural registration of ayahuasca, not as a tele-
ological project following a linear path, but as both a correlation of forces
and a historical construction; a discursive building of truth and identity
within a field of disputes and divergences. This approach signifies making
visible constructions and relations that tend to turn invisible a posteriori as
they become naturalized by natives and scholars alike.
In sum, our objective is to reveal the historical processes and the political
and social disputes responsible for making the process of registering aya-
huasca as cultural heritage what it is today, immersed in a field of contro-
versies that contains a wide spectrum of actors and interests in play. In so
doing, we highlight the most important aspects of this debate, while also
discussing questions related to ethnicity, drug policy, tradition, and reli-
gion. Our hope is that this chapter stimulates new studies on the question,
which remains open and full of interesting possibilities for research.
Ayahuasca: One Drink, Many Meanings

Ayahuasca is a psychoactive beverage used by diverse human groups, espe-
cially Indigenous Peoples, caboclo populations, and religious groups, with
different terms being used to refer to the drink depending on its use context.
As ayahuasca has expanded to Brazilian urban centers, a neo-ayahuasca
network has emerged (Labate, 2004) in which the range of the drink’s
meanings and utilizations has acquired new dimensions, including its con-
sumption for a variety of therapeutic, artistic, spiritual, and recreational
purposes. Similarly, as ayahuasca has become diffused at a global level,
142 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-9

Ayahuasca Cultural Heritage Registration Process in Brazil 143
an astonishing multiplicity of visions and interpretations has emerged con-
cerning the beverage. It may be seen as a medicine, hallucinogen, psychoin-
tegrator, drug, or sacrament. Uses of ayahuasca are always in dialog with
the legal, biomedical, religious, and cultural spheres; a dialog frequently
permeated by controversies and disputes. In this chapter, we shall show
how the discussion on heritage forms part of this panorama.
Despite the diversity in the uses of ayahuasca and its increasingly global
visibility, only in Brazil have religious, collective, and relatively institution-
alized systems structured through its consumption developed, the so-called
“Brazilian ayahuasca religions” (Labate, 2004): Santo Daime, Barquinha,
and União do Vegetal (UDV); all born among migrants from the Brazilian
Northeast working in the rubber plantations in the north of the country
during the first decades of the twentieth century; strongly influenced by
folk Christianity, and shaped by a syncretism with regional religious prac-
tices that interpret ayahuasca as a sacrament.
Santo Daime was developed in the 1930s in the territory of Acre by
Raimundo Irineu Serra: Black, originally from Maranhão—the poorest
state of Brazil—and the grandson of slaves, he was known to his follow-
ers as “Master Irineu.” Barquinha (The Little Boat) was established in
the city of Rio Branco by another native of Maranhão, Daniel Pereira de
Mattos, called “Master Daniel” by his disciples, a friend of Irineu Serra
and, indeed, a follower of the latter for a while. UDV (Union of the Plants),
for its part, began its activities in Porto Velho in the 1960s, its central fig-
ure, José Gabriel da Costa, or “Master Gabriel,” being a native of the state
of Bahia, located in northeastern Brazil.
Santo Daime, Barquinha, and UDV possess diverse points of similarity,
albeit with their own specificities. At the same time, they cannot be seen,
in themselves, as homogenous religions or groups, since each has its own
internal splits, conflicts, and subdivisions. In this sense, perhaps the largest
and best known division within these religions is found in Daime, where
at least two groups stand out: Alto Santo,1 led by Irineu Serra’s widow,
Peregrina Gomes Serra, which adopts a more orthodox and explicitly non-
expansionist posture; even today, limited practically to the city of Rio
Branco; and ICEFLU, 2 the Daimist “line” founded by Sebastião Mota de
Melo, one of the most renowned followers of Master Irineu, and led today
by his son, Alfredo Gregório de Melo, a branch now present in at least
43 countries (Assis & Labate, 2018), maintaining Céu do Mapiá (Mapiá
Heaven) as its global center, a Daimist community located in the Purus
National Forest in Amazonas State.
It should be emphasized that Alto Santo, Barquinha, 3 and UDV maintain
diplomatic relations and a number of political alliances that impact the
issue of ayahuasca as cultural heritage. These relations have largely been
established in opposition to ICEFLU, a fact that provokes animosities and
mobilizes a series of narratives and disputes for legitimacy and authenticity
in the Brazilian ayahuasca field (Labate, 2012; Goulart, 2016; Assis, 2017).
144 Beatriz Caiuby Labate and Glauber Loures de Assis
It is worth remembering that currently, only the religious consumption
of ayahuasca is considered lawful by the Brazilian state, following a tortu-
ous legal process that involved diverse actors and culminated in the 2010
resolution issued by the National Drug Policy Council (CONAD). This res-
olution, though it had been fundamental to the establishment of a legal
framework for the use of the beverage, was also criticized for its relative
fragility (Macrae, 2017) and, principally, for failing to provide space for
voices other than those of the neo-ayahuasca religions and groups, such as
Indigenous Peoples, for example. In some ways, the discussion on cultural
heritage registration appears to be an outcome of the legal regulation of
ayahuasca, involving old and new actors linked to this process.
Heritage: From Roman Property to Intangible Cultural

Diversity
In Brazil, the question of cultural heritage became more clearly delineated
in legal terms from the 1930s, under the influence of modernism, on one
hand, and the Catholic Church, on the other. A landmark in the develop-
ment of this framework was the 1934 Constitution that banned artworks
from leaving Brazilian territory (Dias, 2015, p. 47). This same constitution,
influenced by the Catholic Church, opened up the possibility of coopera-
tion between the State and religions, a fact that would have wide-ranging
repercussions.
The 1937 Constitution returned to the theme of cultural heritage, and
Law Decree 25/1937 was issued soon afterwards, containing a definition
of heritage and the concept of heritage registration. In the same year, the
National Historical and Artistic Heritage Service (SPHAN)4 was founded,
which would later give rise to the present-day IPHAN, created in 1970. As
early as 1938, the first heritage properties were registered in the country,
illustrating the power of the Catholic Church at that time, since eight of the
first 23 properties listed in Brazil were Catholic churches.
The 1967 Constitution was promulgated during the military dictatorship,
which defined support for culture as a duty of the State and prescribed state
protection of national cultural heritage. However, these initiatives lost their
force with AI-5, which reoriented the issue of heritage to the “protections
of national values.” It was only in the 1970s that significant new advances
were made in the area. In 1975, the National Culture Policy was created,
followed, in 1979, by the National Pro-Memory Foundation, which marked
an important transformation in the conception of heritage, shifting away
from the earlier notion of historical and artistic heritage focused on “stone
and mortar” properties (especially buildings) and toward the valorization
of the cultural, ethnic, and religious diversity of Brazil as an important
aspect of the country.
It was following this new approach that the major turning point in Bra-
zilian heritage policy occurred: the listing of Ilê Axé Iyá Nassô Oká, also
known simply as “Casa Branca” (White House), a candomblé terreiro (tem-
ple) in the city of Salvador, Bahia (Dias, 2015). This was the first regis-
tration of cultural heritage to valorize a religion other than the Catholic
Church. In addition, the registration procedure for Casa Branca required
a model very different from the one that had been used for other such pro-
cesses in the past, not being limited to “stone and mortar” property, but
also, bushes, trees, and sacred objects, water fountains, and other elements
related to the cultural value of the locality.
The registration of Ilê Axé Iyá Nassô Oká involved an anthropologi-
cal justification and, to some extent, inaugurated the mutual relationship
between anthropology and minority religions as part of the movement of
recognizing and legitimizing the latter, which also applies significantly
to the case of ayahuasca. From this moment on, the candomblé terreiros
and other minority religiosities started to acquire a higher profile in the
public sphere, no longer needing to conceal their practices as a survival
strategy (Dias, 2015). Over the following years, other terreiros began to
be registered, paving the way for a new public policy linked to the idea of
heritage.
In 1994, the Arts Foundation (Fundação de Artes: Funarte) was created,
another government body that has played an important role in the Brazil-
ian heritage issue. However, the next structural transformation would take
place only in 2000, when the National Program of Intangible Heritage was
launched (Dias, 2015). Thereafter, it became possible to register intangi-
ble cultural heritage, echoing a more contemporary anthropological vision
of culture whereby not only material and technical objects are valorized,
but so too, cultural and symbolic relations, rituals and festivities, tradi-
tions and oral expressions, knowledge and cultural practices, among other
aspects (Barros, 2016). This resource enables the registration of cultural
wealth linked to highly oral traditions as instances of cultural heritage, as
in the case of Afro-Brazilian and ayahuasca religiosities (Assis, 2017).
The National Program of Intangible Heritage instituted the notion of the
“register” for the purposes of cultural heritage registration, demonstrat-
ing that, unlike movable and immovable items, intangible cultural herit-
age does not require protection and conservation of the kind attributed
to “stone and mortar” properties, but rather, “identification, recognition,
ethnographic registration, periodical follow-ups, divulgation, and support.
In sum, more documentation and follow-up, less intervention” (Macrae,
2017, p. 27).
As part of this regulatory framework, there are four books in which
instances of intangible cultural wealth can be registered; although the pos-
sibility of creating new books has remained open, illustrating the dialogical
and dynamic character of contemporary heritage policy. These are:
1 Knowledge Registry Book, listing forms of knowledge and ways of

making, rooted in the everyday life of communities;
2 Celebrations Registry Book, listing rituals and festivals that mark
collective experiences of work, religiosity, entertainment, and other
practices of social life;
3 Forms of Expression Registry Book, listing literary, musical, visual,
dramatic, and ludic manifestations; and
4 Places Registry Book, listing markets, fairs, sanctuaries, squares, and
other spaces where collective cultural practices are concentrated and
reproduced (Brazil, 2000).
In the case of immaterial and intangible cultural wealth, this dialogical

character of heritage policy becomes even more prominent. It is very diffi-
cult to define what a registrable immaterial asset is a priori, and different
possibilities exist in terms of understanding the question, based on distinct
viewpoints and interests.
In this sense, the registration process for intangible cultural heritage is
relational and interactionist, such that the dispute to define what is or is
not heritage has important practical and identificatory repercussions. It
is also important to stress that, for the purposes of registering intangible
heritage, it is not always necessary to register just one item; nor do the reg-
istered items have to be those initially claimed by the applicant groups. This
applied to the case of capoeira, for example, where the initial request was
for the registration of capoeira itself as cultural heritage. At the end of the
process, what was registered was the craft of the capoeira master.
Finally, it can be observed that the notion of intangible heritage and the
new heritage policy in Brazil enabled a greater opening to the country’s
cultural, ethnic, and religious diversity. Another interesting example was
the registration of the “Bahian acarajé women” in 2005, or the Bumba-
meu-boi Cultural Complex of Maranhão (Dias, 2015).
Cultural Heritage Registration of Ayahuasca and Other

Psychoactive Plants in Latin America
At an international level, one landmark in the legitimization of ayahuasca
practices was Peru’s recognition of ayahuasca as cultural heritage of the
country (INC, 2008b). This movement is also related to the reflexive effects
of the global expansion of the drink, since it was heavily influenced by
the activities of the Takiwasi group, a therapeutic center led by the French
physician Jacques Mabit, situated in Tarapoto, Peru, that uses ayahuasca to
treat dependency on psychoactive substances.
According to Labate (2014), the question of registering ayahuasca as cul-
tural heritage came to prominence after publication of a document written
by a member of Takiwasi’s board of directors, culminating in the resolution
of Peru’s National Institute of Culture (INC) that recognized ayahuasca as
cultural heritage of the country in 2008 (INC, 2008b). In the Peruvian case,
heritage safeguarding aims specially to protect traditional and indigenous
uses of ayahuasca, in contrast to the market use evident in the New Age
circuit (Dias, 2015).
During the same period, Shipibo-Konibo geometric designs, or kené, were
also recognized as cultural heritage (INC, 2008c), leading to the opening of
the Museum of Sacred, Magical, and Medicinal Plants in the city of Cuzco
in 2011 (INC, 2008a). Subsequently, the Shipibo-Konibo icaros—songs
performed in ayahuasca rituals—were also recognized as Peruvian cultural
heritage in 2016 (El Peruano, 2016). In 2006 and 2007, the Huni Kuin
of Acre, Brazil, approached IPHAN to request registration of their own
kené designs as cultural heritage, but the registration has yet to be made
(Labate & Goldstein, 2017).
In Colombia, meanwhile, there is no formal regulation of yagé (aya-
huasca), although various attempts at self-regulation have been made by
Indigenous Peoples, as well as administrative rulings legitimizing the use
of yagé. Traditional medicine and yagé finally appeared in the country’s
cultural heritage policy directives in 2009, and the Colombian taitas (tra-
ditional shamans) obtained a certificate from the government clearing
the way for recognition—albeit informal—of ayahuasca as intangible
heritage (Colombian Ministry of Culture, 2009; ADF, 2017; Sánchez &
Labate, 2017).
Other data relating to the Colombian context include the 2008 resolu-
tion of the Ministry of Environment and Housing, which recognized “Yagé
Culture” as a cultural preservation value; an award worth the equivalent of
US$10,000 made by the Ministry of Culture to the taita Querubin Queta
Alvarado for his dedication to enriching the culture of the Indigenous Peo-
ples of Colombia (ADF, 2017); and the recognition, in 2010, of the Yurupari
ritual as a cultural heritage of Colombia, also recognized by The United
Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in
2011, as intangible cultural heritage of humanity (UNESCO, 2011).
In Bolivia, the most emblematic case involved the recognition, in 2009, of
the coca leaf as national cultural heritage, a renewable source of biodiver-
sity and an important factor in the promotion of social cohesion (Metaal,
2014). The Bolivian case is especially paradigmatic since it is the first exam-
ple of a psychoactive plant whose existence is guaranteed and safeguarded
as cultural heritage by a country’s constitution (Republic of Bolivia, 2009,
Article 384). Still, in relation to the coca leaf, the latter had already been
declared cultural heritage in Peru in 2005 (INC, 2005). In Peru, indeed,
there is a legal coca market controlled by a state agency, the National Coca
Company (Empresa Nacional de la Coca: ENACO). After its recognition in
Bolivia in 2014, the Andean Parliament, composed of Bolivia, Colombia,
Ecuador, and Peru, declared the coca leaf to be a cultural and ancestral her-
itage of Andean societies. In addition to these countries, Argentina—where
coca consumption was decriminalized in 1989—also possesses local laws
related to the traditional use of coca leaves, and Chile appears as a country
that tolerates its utilization by Indigenous populations (Metaal, 2014).
As it has acquired international notoriety, an effort has also been made
by some actors, especially in Bolivia, to alter the categorization of coca
leaves in international conventions on drugs, which have defined it, to date,
as a Class 1 psychoactive substance; that is, a drug with a high potential for
abuse and unsafe for use, even under medical supervision (Metaal, 2014).
This movement has provoked discussions in the context of the United
Nations and a wide range of reactions from Western countries, but it does
signal some legal advances in terms of the traditional use of coca leaves.
The results achieved by the efforts of countries from the Andean Parliament
provide an example of how heritage and cultural recognition can help in the
quest for social and legal legitimacy on the part of the benefitting groups.
Cultural Heritage Registration of Ayahuasca in Brazil and

the Conflicts Involved
Through the work of some key actors—notably, the journalist Antônio
Alves, a member of CICLU-Alto Santo—the state government of Jorge
Viana (Workers’ Party) began to adopt a different approach to the question
of ayahuasca from 1999 onward, seeking to shift the issue from the sphere
of justice and the discussion on drugs to the areas of culture and the envi-
ronment. Following this dialog between the public authorities and various
ayahuasca groups based in Rio Branco, CICLU-Alto Santo requested the
registration of a number of architectural elements in their community. This
request also reflected a dispute with another Daimist group present in the
region, CICLU, over the ownership of lands and other legal aspects related
to Daime.
Understanding this dispute fully would require a reconstruction of the
historical roots of Daime, which, unfortunately, exceed the limits of this
chapter. Put succinctly, in the decade following Sebastião Mota de Melo’s
departure from Alto Santo and the foundation of CEFLURIS (present-day
ICEFLU) in the 1970s, Alto Santo experienced a new schism, leading to
division and the formation of other groups located in the same district of
Rio Branco, where they remained neighbors (Goulart, 2004; Assis, 2017).
The original group is still led today by Irineu Serra’s widow, while one of
the other groups succeeded in winning the legal right to use the center’s
official name, CICLU, forcing the group of Peregrina Serra to use another
name: CICLU-Alto Santo.
This relational panorama is important since, as deeper field research
shows, although the question of the registration of ayahuasca as cultural
heritage today takes the form of an overtly republican debate on rights
and safeguarding, its roots can be traced to a large extent to local disputes
among these groups for territory and religious capital. An important influ-
ence on this process was the creation, in the Alto Santo region, of the Rai-
mundo Irineu Serra Environmental Protection Area (APA) on June 7, 2005.
The project to create the APA originated primarily from CICLU; specifi-
cally, from the figure of João Rodrigues Facundes, “Seu Nica,” and his son
Jair Facundes.
According to some accounts collected in our field research, due to the
back history of rivalry between Nica and Peregrina Gomes Serra, the crea-
tion of the APA aroused suspicions, which came to a head when, during the
same period, Jair and other members of CICLU tried to purchase the house
that had belonged to Leôncio Gomes, Peregrina’s uncle and an important
successor to Irineu Serra. At that moment, the residence was occupied by
family members who no longer professed the Daime doctrine. This fact was
no doubt perceived by Peregrina as a threat to her heritage, prompting her
to contact the state governor, Jorge Viana, through the intermediation of
Antônio Alves, in order to initiate the registration of a number of buildings
located in Alto Santo, including Leôncio’s house.
The application for registration was made by Irineu Serra’s widow herself,
and included the following elements: the house in which Raimundo Irineu
Serra and Peregrina had lived; the center/temple for spiritual works; the casa
do feitio (making house), where Daime is prepared; the well, dug by Master
Irineu himself; the grave where Irineu Serra is buried, along with his follow-
ers, José das Neves and Leôncio Gomes; the Irineu Serra school, founded by
the man himself; and the house where Lêoncio Gomes da Silva, considered
the “eternal president” of Alto Santo, lived. The request was accepted and
the registration concretized by decrees issued simultaneously by the governor
Jorge Viana and the mayor Raimundo Angelim Vasconcelos in September
2006. These monuments of Alto Santo thus came to be considered as the
historical and cultural heritage of Rio Branco and Acre State (Assis, 2017).
In 2006, after reforms undertaken by the municipal and state govern-
ments, the Raimundo Irineu Serra Memorial was reinaugurated in Alto
Santo: a community memorial erected in the house where Master Irineu
had lived, containing a collection of photos and documents of the group’s
history, as well as personal objects and furniture used by Irineu Serra and
Peregrina. The memorial is administrated by members of Alto Santo, who
restrict visiting to family members and known and authorized people only,
which is justified, in part, by the fact that the site also stores the stock of the
sacred ayahuasca, Daime, used in the rituals.
Nevertheless, we can perceive that, as an outcome of the cultural policies
introduced by the Lula government and the administration of the Ministry
of Culture, headed by the internationally renowned musician Gilberto Gil,
there were clear transformations in how ayahuasca and ayahuasca religions
were treated in Acre. In the city of Rio Branco, especially, there was a con-
siderable empowerment of some of these groups as a result of their close
dialog with the public authorities; notably, those groups with closer ties to
the PT government or its grassroots allies, as in the case not only of Alto
Santo, but also UDV, which was strongly linked to the deputy Perpétua
Almeida from the PC do B (Communist Party of Brazil), as well as other
local politicians. Along with the closer ties developed between Alto Santo,
UDV, and Barquinha, and between these and the public authorities, there
was also an attempt to segregate other groups, especially ICEFLU.
In tracing this chronology, it is important to note that, although the
seeds for the application to register ayahuasca as cultural heritage had first
emerged in Alto Santo with the registration of its historical site, the pro-
cess subsequently drew in other actors from the ayahuasca field, notably,
UDV and the House of Jesus Source of Light (one of the groups from the
Barquinha “line”), which began to work in coordination with Alto Santo
on the cultural heritage issue.
This process, which included meetings in the Acre State Legislative
Assembly, led to the creation of the “Special Committee on Ayahuasca
Cultures,” the first meeting of which was held on March 4, 2008. These
meetings were attended by representatives from CICLU-Alto Santo, CICLU,
UDV, and House of Jesus Source of Light, but did not include representa-
tives from ICEFLU or Indigenous Peoples. In this sense, the Special Commit-
tee, although subordinate to the Rio Branco Municipal Council of Cultural
Policies (CMPC) and, in theory, representing “ayahuasca cultures” in gen-
eral, has, since its emergence, closely reflected the interests of CICLU-Alto
Santo, UDV, and House of Jesus Source of Light (Goulart, 2016; Goulart &
Labate, 2016).
These groups began to work together to construct a common identity,
which brought them closer, while simultaneously distancing them from other
ayahuasca groups, especially ICEFLU (Labate, 2012; Goulart & Labate,
2016). CICLU-Alto Santo, UDV, and House of Jesus Source of Light began
to call themselves “traditional ayahuasca communities,” among other sim-
ilar terms evoking the idea of “tradition.” As Labate (2012) argues, the
construction of this common identity led UDV to invest aspects of its crea-
tion and development with new meanings as a way of establishing stronger
links to Acre State and enable a closer dialog with Alto Santo and the figure
of Master Irineu. Moreover, this arrangement constructed a narrative that
sought to deprive ICEFLU of the quality of “traditional.”
It was through the strategic pact formed by these groups that the idea
surfaced of applying for ayahuasca to be recognized as Brazilian cultural
heritage. The official aim of this request was to change the logic by which
ayahuasca is perceived since, when transformed into cultural heritage, it
would cease to be an issue primarily linked to the Ministry of Justice and
shift instead to the sphere of the Ministry of Culture.5 It was no coinci-
dence, therefore, that the name of the discussion body of these entities was
the Special Committee on Ayahuasca Cultures. In 2008, therefore, Alto
Santo, UDV, and House of Jesus Source of Light submitted their application
for ayahuasca’s recognition as cultural heritage to the culture minister Gil-
berto Gil during the aforementioned ceremony held in Alto Santo, an event
that would have a decisive impact on the entire national ayahuasca universe.
Inclusion of Indigenous Peoples and Complexification of
the Debate
Despite the culturalist discourse and the shift between the government
spheres dealing with ayahuasca (from the Ministry of Justice to the Min-
istry of Culture), this application for its registration as cultural heritage
in practice also contained questions specific to the ayahuasca field itself,
such as disputes about distinction and authenticity. It is worth remember-
ing that, although the valorization of cultural manifestations associated
with ayahuasca and its eventual status as cultural heritage possess a sym-
bolic dimension with strong public repercussions, such recognition would
not necessarily alter the drug policies regulating and controlling ayahuas-
ca’s use.
The meetings of the Special Committee divided the Brazilian ayahuasca
universe into three “fields.” The first, entitled the “original field,” referred
to Indigenous Peoples, while the second, the “traditional field,” included
the three groups mentioned previously, and finally, the “ayahuasca field”
(or eclectic field) encompassed ICEFLU and all the other rituals uses of aya-
huasca. This classification provoked disputes and protests that still rever-
berate today. Excluded from the original application made by the groups
proclaiming themselves “traditional,” ICEFLU submitted its own request
for the registration as cultural heritage to the Amazonas State Culture
Office (Labate, 2012).
However, the application for cultural heritage registration made by the
three groups in 2008 was turned down by the Intangible Heritage Commit-
tee on November 26, 2008. The latter determined that the application was
too broad and generic and failed to include specific and sufficient elements
to identify the objects to be registered, as defined by Decree 3551/2000 on
intangible heritage, which states that “foods, drinks, along with beliefs,
philosophies and theologies, do not by themselves comprise cultural assets
capable of being registered, but references for the production and reproduc-
tion of processes, representations, and cultural practices” (Santos, 2010,
p. 3). This rejection of the application was not definitive, however, but repre-
sented a suggestion and stimulus for the application to be better developed.
In relation to Indigenous Peoples, Haru Xinã Kuntanawa, then president
of the Forest Guardians Institute (IGF), submitted a request on August 27,
2010, asking the Ministry of Culture to conduct a survey of the cultural
heritage of Pano-speaking peoples and ensure their inclusion in the inven-
tory. As a result, IPHAN technicians visited Katukina lands to discuss the
inventory process with the Indigenous Peoples and their potential partici-
pation in the same (Das Neves, 2017).
Amid this dispute for authenticity, and recognizing the complexity of
a request of this kind, the Ministry of Culture decided that the process
of registering ayahuasca as cultural heritage needed to be more inclusive,
allowing the participation of ICEFLU and Indigenous Peoples as well. It
was based on this more extensive proposal that IPHAN began the National
Inventory on Cultural References (INRC), designed to evaluate the ques-
tion and gather data for the registration of ayahuasca.
On November 7, 2011, IPHAN issued a public tender for the production
of the inventory. The winner was the company M&B Serviços Especializa-
dos, responsible for implementing the preliminary phase of the Ayahuasca
INRC (Barros, 2016). Once the tender process was completed and the team
defined, the inventory began to be compiled in 2012, using the standard
methodology adopted by IPHAN for intangible heritage registration pro-
jects. This consists of three stages: (1) Preliminary Survey; (2) Identifica-
tion; (3) Documentation.
The cultural heritage registration movement continued its course, now
in a process unified at federal level through IPHAN, albeit hindered by
the intense conflicts between the different ayahuasca groups. The team of
specialists concluded that ICEFLU needed to be included in the registration
process, along with indigenous uses of ayahuasca in Brazil. Consequently,
the inventory team visited the settlement of Céu do Mapiá, which they
left positively impressed by the organization, size, and sustainability of the
community (Goulart, 2016).
The inclusion of Indigenous Peoples in the process rendered this discus-
sion considerably more complex, given the existence of approximately 15
indigenous groups in Acre that utilize ayahuasca based on distinct cultural
contexts and references. The research with Indigenous Peoples would itself
prove to be onerous due to the difficulties and costs involved in traveling
to their communities. This slowed down the process and, at the same, time
prompted IPHAN to publish a public tender to hire a company to organize
meetings in indigenous lands that would explain the process involved in the
registration of the ritual use of ayahuasca as cultural heritage and consult
their views on the same (Barros, 2016).
In response to this new panorama, Alto Santo, UDV, and House of Jesus
Source of Light argued that their request for heritage registration dispensed
with the need to consult Indigenous Peoples, since it specifically concerned
the three groups in question. According to their reasoning, the indigenous
use of ayahuasca differs from that made by the religions, since the indige-
nous use forms part of a Pan-Amazonian international identity and culture,
extending to countries like Colombia and Peru, while the use of religious
traditions is linked to a national “Brazilian culture.” They also argued that
the inclusion of Indigenous Peoples in the inventory resulted from a demand
made by indigenous youths associated with the New Age religious circuit,
not older shamans from the villages. In their view, it was therefore unrepre-
sentative. Moreover, there were, they argued, already sufficient elements for
the registration involving the three groups. Further extending the research
would end up blocking the process (Barros, 2016).
In order to define their application more clearly and give it a more specific
tone, Alto Santo, UDV, and House of Jesus Source of Light asked IPHAN to
register the craft of the three founding masters of the traditional branches
of ayahuasca: Irineu, Daniel, and Gabriel. The argument was that all ritual
uses of ayahuasca subsequent to indigenous uses originate in some way
from these three masters, and that the office of the masters encompasses
all the cultural references of each of these religions. In support of their
argument, they also cited the preceding registration of the craft of capoeira
master (Barros, 2016).
IPHAN, however, was opposed to this proposal, arguing that registra-
tion of the office of “master” is related to the activities and methods of
specialists and experts using techniques that symbolize a particular social
group or place. Moreover, it is essential that the craft in question can be
transmitted generationally, allowing the emergence of new masters capable
of performing the activity in question. Such would apply, for instance, to
the manufacture of clay pots in Espírito Santo, some of the cuisine in Goiás
Velho, and the processing of manioc or sugar cane extraction, among oth-
ers (Barros, 2016).
Clearly, the office of the three founding masters does not fit into this
category, given that there is no line of succession or generational trans-
mission of this office, occupied only by the three founding masters of the
respective religions. An additional problem with the application, accord-
ing to IPHAN, is the possibility of ICEFLU requesting the inclusion of
Sebastião Mota de Melo among the recognized masters, which is completely
unacceptable to the three groups who made the initial request, who would
much rather distinguish themselves than be confused or mixed up with
ICEFLU.
Amid these discussions, the hired company completed the preliminary
survey for the inventory in December 2012. In October 2014, IPHAN’s
recommendations for the inventory were sent to its technical team, which
began to rewrite the report that, in turn, corresponds to the first of the
three stages of the registration process. The Final Report of this stage, con-
taining a qualitative analysis that examined the social, pharmacological,
legal, and religious aspects of ayahuasca, was concluded in 2015 and pub-
licly presented in the city of Rio Branco, Acre, on August 22, 2017 (Das
Neves, 2017). However, this report still does not identify which cultural
items will be registered as heritage.
During the IPHAN meetings held on the topic at the start of 2015, for
example, it was recalled that Convention 169 of the International Labor
Organization (ILO), to which Brazil is a signatory, stipulates that any
questions that affect or concern Indigenous Peoples require their free,
prior, and informed consent (Barros, 2016), which reinforced the impor-
tance of consulting the indigenous groups. In a meeting held in Brasília
on May 25, 2015, a parliamentary amendment was proposed by deputy
César Messias (PSB/Acre) to hold consultations with Indigenous Peoples
via IPHAN. A public hearing was also organized on the issue by deputy
Raimundo Angelim (PT/Acre), and a proposal made to request an increased
commitment by the IPHAN office in Acre to work with Indigenous Peoples
(Barros, 2016).
Finally, the team responsible for the inventory came to the conclusion
that the second stage of the process had to separate the indigenous and
non-indigenous contexts, implying the production of two distinct inven-
tories. This decision will undoubtedly have an impact on the future devel-
opments of the registration of ayahuasca as cultural heritage, which, at
present, remain still uncertain. Will Indigenous Peoples continue to be clas-
sified as “original” in this new configuration? What are the implications of
separating “indigenous and non-indigenous” in terms of the interests of the
initial proponents of the heritage registration process, Alto Santo, UDV,
and House of Jesus Source of Light? How will ICEFLU be included and
dialog with the actors in this field during this new phase? These are some of
the questions that promise to keep the debate alive.
The central question that requires a resolution, however, is even more
challenging: Find and specify the cultural items to be registered as heritage;
items that match the criteria established for the registry books by Decree
3551, regulating intangible heritage. The expectation is that a solution to
this question will be enabled by the Preliminary Survey.
The Second World Ayahuasca Conference

Between October the 17 and 22, 2016, the Second World Ayahuasca Con-
ference was hosted on the campus of UFAC (Federal University of Acre) in
Rio Branco. It was one of the most diverse spaces dedicated to the theme of
ayahuasca ever recorded, demonstrating the contemporary complexity of
the global ayahuasca field (Assis, 2017; Goulart & Labate, 2017; Macrae,
2017).
The conference was organized by the International Center for Ethnobo-
tanical Education, Research & Service (ICEERS), an NGO based in Spain.
One of the high points of the event, and one that interests us here especially,
was the meeting on cultural heritage registration, which was closed to the
public and took place parallel to the official presentations. According to
the testimony of some of the participants, there was an open conflict of
positions.
ICEERS convoked the meeting in order to discuss proposals for the rec-
ognition of ayahuasca as a cultural heritage of humanity. However, this
more universalist stance was questioned by other participants and ran into
the tensions that had already become evident in the Brazilian ayahuasca
field, such as the exclusion of Indigenous Peoples from the request for rec-
ognition of ayahuasca as cultural heritage. For some of the indigenous
representatives present, ayahuasca was something intrinsically associated
with the cultural and social contexts of its use. Indeed, for many, it made
no sense to even speak of “ayahuasca” as though it were a single, generic
drink. Drink and culture cannot be conceived in isolation. Possessing active
principles in common is not enough to classify the plant; just as important
are the environment and the form in which it is used.
This entails attributing ayahuasca with an ethnic dimension, something
that, in some ways, was shared by the traditionalist ayahuasca religions,
with the difference that there was a tendency to construct a more monop-
olist and exclusivist narrative about the consumption of daime/vegetal,
manifested, for example, in the desire to distinguish between sacred and
profane, traditional and non-traditional, and legitimate and illegitimate
uses. The indigenous perspective appeared to involve recognition of their
culture and people—or their historical precedence—rather than the restric-
tion or prohibition on the use by other groups.
The differences in the positions adopted by the ayahuasca religions,
Indigenous Peoples, and anthropologists and scientists made it difficult to
unify around the ICEERS proposal for ayahuasca’s registration as cultural
heritage at an international scale. They also brought to the surface the ten-
sions surrounding a common approach to the issue at national level. One
of the recurrent complaints made by Indigenous Peoples was that the move-
ment to regulate ayahuasca thus far had protected the religions more than
themselves (Goulart & Labate, 2017).
The Second World Ayahuasca Conference prompted some ayahuasca-
using Indigenous Peoples to join forces and hold the First Indigenous
Ayahuasca Conference, or Yubaka Hairá, which took place between
December 14 and 17, 2017, in the Puyanawa Land in Mâncio Lima, Acre.
This conference also provided space for debate on cultural heritage regis-
tration, producing an “Internal Recommendation Letter” by the groups
taking part (Representantes, 2017). The document recommends investigat-
ing the possibility of submitting a letter to IPHAN/Ministry of Culture and
the Public Prosecutor’s Office, as well as other responsible entities in Brazil,
and even the UN, presenting the position of the ayahuasca-using Indig-
enous Peoples on the registration and internationalization of ayahuasca.
Additionally, there also exists the request to consider the inclusion of sha-
mans in the IPHAN commission responsible for evaluating the ayahuasca
registration process, assessing the viability of registering the drink as the
cultural heritage of Indigenous Peoples, and creating their own process that
recognizes the indigenous view of cultural heritage.6
Final Considerations
In this chapter, we have sought to provide a genealogy of the process of
ayahuasca cultural heritage registration in Brazil. Adopting a comparative
perspective, we have seen that, in Peru, ayahuasca is considered a national
cultural heritage, a decision unprecedented anywhere else in the world,
while Colombia establishes some indirect recognition, but with important
administrative advances for the recognition of yagé. Brazil, meanwhile,
presents a somewhat unique setting, not only because it is the birthplace
of the Brazilian ayahuasca religions, but also because ayahuasca is consid-
ered legal for religious use in the country, following the resolution taken by
CONAD in 2010.
Through the articulation of several representatives of ayahuasca reli-
gions, discussions began in 2008 on the registration of ayahuasca as an
intangible cultural heritage of Brazil. This original initiative, whose his-
torical root we have explored here, reflected specific political alliances and
disputes in the ayahuasca field, omitting some important actors. In order
to evaluate the question better, IPHAN launched the National Inventory
on Cultural References (INRC), including a diverse team of scholars, and
sought to pay attention to other relevant experts in the ayahuasca setting.
The final report was concluded in 2017, and corresponds to the first of the
three stages necessary for cultural heritage registration. The next stages are
still being evaluated by IPHAN, meaning that the discussion on ayahuasca
as intangible cultural heritage remains open and ever more complex as new
actors join the debate.
This was the case of the Second World Ayahuasca Conference where a
huge variety of ayahuasca groups discussed the question of heritage regis-
tration, along with diverse other topics. Various conflicts erupted during the
event, highlighting the cultural differences among the ayahuasca groups,
but, at the same time, provoking the establishment of new exchanges, new
alliances, and the repositioning of actors within this discussion.
As we can see, at the same time as the ayahuasca groups sought to shift
the ayahuasca issue from the legal to the cultural sphere, the question of
cultural heritage registration also became an “idiom” to discuss the dis-
putes within the ayahuasca field over the legitimacy and authenticity of var-
ious actors. This scenario has become increasingly diverse and even more
complex to the extent that indigenous groups have also joined the debate,
including their appropriation of the discussion on cultural heritage registra-
tion, in order to compete for space with the ayahuasca religions and other
groups in a “market” of religious ceremonies that is ever more competitive
(Labate & Coutinho, 2014). Ultimately, turning ayahuasca into cultural
heritage implies identifying who its legitimate “bearers” or “holders” are.
Are they the Indigenous Peoples? The ayahuasca religions? Brazilians? All
humankind? This, combined with the difficult task of identifying the cul-
tural item to be registered as heritage, makes the possibilities for recogniz-
ing ayahuasca as cultural heritage in Brazil both highly challenging and
intellectually stimulating.
The biggest and most urgent challenge of the moment, however, is to
defeat the totalitarian government of Jair Bolsonaro, who interrupted this
debate, extinguished the Ministry of Culture, weakened CONAD and
drastically changed IPHAN. Perhaps this dramatic scenario is an opportu-
nity for Brazilian ayahuasca groups to come together for a common agenda
to safeguard ayahuasca in Brazil.
Notes
1 The group’s official name is the Centro de Iluminação Cristã Luz Universal
(CICLU: in English, the Universal Light Christian Illumination Center).
2 The acronym for the Igreja do Culto Eclético da Fluente Luz Universal (in
English, the Church of Eclectic Worship of the Flowing Universal Light).
3 More specifically, the Casa de Jesus Fonte de Luz (Praying House of Jesus,
Source of Light) group. It is important to recall that, as in the case of the other
two ayahuasca religions, the Barquinha “line” also has internal divisions.
4 In Portuguese, Serviço do Patrimônio Histórico e Artístico Nacional.
5 It is important to say that, during the authoritarian government of Jair Bolson-
aro, the Ministry of Culture was extinguished.
6 To date, three ayahuasca indigenous conferences have been held. The fourth is
scheduled for the end of 2021.
References
Assis, G. L. (2017). A Religião da Floresta: apontamentos sociológicos em direção
a uma genealogia do Santo-Daime e seu processo de diáspora [The religion of
the forest: Sociological notes towards a genealogy of Santo Daime and its dias-
pora] (Doctoral dissertation). UFMG.
Assis, G. L., & Labate, B. C. (2018). Genealogia do processo de patrimonialização
da ayahuasca no Brasil [Genealogy of the cultural heritage registration process
of ayahuasca in Brazil]. In B. C. Labate & F. Policarpo (Eds.), Drogas: Perspec-
tivas em Ciências Humanas [Drugs: Human science perspectives], pp. 207–229.
Terceiro Nome/Gramma/NEIP.
Ayahuasca Defense Fund (ADF). (2017). National legal status, Colombia. Available
at: http://ayahuascadefense.com/index.php/estatus-legal-nacional/?lang=es
Barros, G. C. (2016). Tradição e Modernidade no Campo Ayahuasqueiro: uma
análise a partir dos processos de regulamentação e patrimonialização da aya-
huasca no Brasil no período de 1985/2016 [Tradition and modernity in the aya-
huasca field: An analysis based on the processes of regulating and registering
ayahuasca in Brazil, 1985/2016] (Doctoral dissertation). UFCG.
Das Neves, A. (2017). O processo de patrimonialização da ayahuasca no Brasil:
conquistas, disputas e tensões [The cultural heritage registration of ayahuasca
in Brazil: conquests, disputes and tensions] (Master’s thesis). Federal University
of Bahia, Salvador.
Dias, M. de O. (2015). Processos de Patrimonialização no Campo Religioso Bra-
sileiro: o caso do Santo-Daime [Cultural heritage registration processes in the
Brazilian religious field] (Master’s thesis). Federal University of Paraíba, João
Pessoa.
El Peruano. (2016, June 15). Resolución Viceministerial n. 068-2016-VMPCIC-MC
[Vice-ministerial resolution n. 068–2016-VMPCIC-MC]. Declaran a los Íkaros
del pueblo shipibo – konibo – xetebo como Patrimonio Cultural de la Nación
[The Icaros of the Shipibo-Konibo-Xetebo people are declared a national cul-
tural Heritage]. Lima.
Goulart, S. L. (2004). Contrastes e continuidades em uma tradição amazônica: as
religiões da ayahuasca [Contrasts and continuities in an Amazonian tradition:
The ayahuasca religions] (Doctoral dissertation). Unicamp, Brazil.
Goulart, S. L. (2016). “Ayahuasca e políticas públicas culturais”: Estratégias de
reconhecimento público das religiões ayahuasqueiras [“Ayahuasca and public
cultural policies”: The public recognition strategies of ayahuasca religions]. In
B. C. Labate (Ed.), Drogas, Políticas Públicas e Consumidores [Drugs, public
policies and consumers]. Campinas: Mercado das Letras, pp.117–147.
Goulart, S. L., & Labate, B. C. (2016). Religião, Política e Cultura: o uso da aya-
huasca como patrimônio cultural [Religion, politics and culture: The use of aya-
huasca as cultural heritage]. [Presentation]. 30th Brazilian Anthropology Meeting,
João Pessoa/PB. Available at: http://neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/
Goulart_Labate_Patrimonio_Ayahuasca_ABA_JoaoPessoa_2016.pdf
Goulart, S. L., & Labate, B. C. (2017). Da Amazônia ao Norte Global e de Volta: As
Várias Ayahuascas da II Conferência Mundial da Ayahuasca [From Amazonia to
the Global North and back: The various ayahuascas of the Second World Ayahuasca
Conference]. [Presentation]. Fifth Congress of the Latin American Asssociation
of Anthropology – Sixteenth Congress of Anthropology in Bogotá, Colom-
bia. Available at: http://neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Goulart_
Labate_Amazonia_ao_Norte_Global_ALA_2017.pdf
Instituto Nacional De Cultura (INC). (2005). National Directorate Resolution n.
1707/INC. Available at: http://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/
Patrimonio_Coca_Peru_2005.pdf
Instituto Nacional De Cultura (INC). (2008a, April 16). National Directorate
Resolution n. 540. Declaración Patrimonio Cultural de la nación al kene de
la sociedade Shipibo-Koniba [National cultural heritage declaration concerning
the kene of the Shipibo-Konibo people]. Lima.
Instituto Nacional De Cultura (INC). (2008b). National Directorate Resolu-
tion n. 836/INC [Resolución Directoral Nacional n. 1707/INC]. Lima, Peru.
Available at: http://www.bialabate.net/wpcontent/uploads/2008/08/declarion_
ayahuasca_patrimonio_cultural_peru.pdf
Instituto Nacional De Cultura (INC). (2008c). National Directorate Reso-
lution n. 540/1. Lima. Available at: http://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/
uploads/2008/08/Resolucion_Peru_Kene.pdf
Labate, B. C. (2004). A reinvenção do uso da ayahuasca nos centros urbanos [The
reinvention of the use of ayahuasca in urban centers]. Mercado das Letras.
Labate, B. C. (2012). Ayahuasca religions in Acre: Cultural heritage in the Brazilian
borderlands. Anthropology of Consciousness, 23, 87–102.
Labate, B. C. (2014). The internationalization of Peruvian vegetalismo. In B. C.
Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Ayahuasca shamanism in the Amazon and beyond
(pp. 182–205). Oxford University Press.
Labate, B. C., & Coutinho, T. (2014). “O meu avô deu a ayahuasca para o mestre
Irineu”: reflexões sobre a entrada dos índios no circuito urbano de consumo de
ayahuasca no Brasil [“My grandfather gave ayahuasca to Master Irineu”: Reflec-
tions on the entry of Indigenous peoples into the urban consumption circuit of
ayahuasca in Brazil]. Revista De Antropologia, 57(2), 215–250. https://doi.
org/10.11606/2179-0892.ra.2014.89113
Labate, B. C., & Goldstein, I. (2017). “Encontros artísticos e ayahuasqueiros”:
reflexões sobre a colaboração entre Ernesto Neto e os Huni Kuin [“Artistic and
ayahuasca encounters”: Reflections on the collaboration between Ernesto Neto
and the Huni Kuin]. Mana, 23(3), 437–471.
Macrae, E. (2017, October 17–22). Cultura, política, identidade religiosa e étnica
nas discussões sobre a patrimonialização da ayahuasca [Culture, politics and
religious and ethnic identity in the discussions on the cultural heritage regis-
tration of ayahuasca]. [Presentation]. Second World Ayahuasca Conference, Rio
Branco.
Metaal, P. (2014). Coca in debate: The contradiction and conflict between the UN
drug conventions and the real world. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Pro-
hibition, religious freedom and human rights: Regulating traditional drug use
Ministério De Cultura De Colombia [Colombian Ministry of Culture]. (2009).
Política de salvaguardia del patrimônio cultural inmaterial [Policies for safe-
guarding intangible cultural heritage]. In Compendio de politicas culturales
[Compendium of cultural policies]. Available in: https://mincultura.gov.co/min-
isterio/politicas-culturales/salvaguardia-patrimonio-cultural-inmaterial/Docu-
ments/03_politica_salvaguardia_patrimonio_cultural_inmaterial.pdf
Representantes Dos Povos Indígenas Do Vale Do Juruá [Representatives of the
Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley]. (2017). Internal recommendation letter.
First Yubaka Ayrá – Indigenous Ayahuasca Conference, Mâncio Lima. Avail-
able at: https://www.xapuri.info/povos-indigenas-2/yubaka-hayra-conferencia-
ayahuasca-2/
República De Bolivia [Republic of Bolivia]. (2009). Constitucíon Política del
Estado [Political Constitution of the State]. Available at: www.ftierra.org/index.
php/generales/14-constitucion-politica-del-estado
Sanchéz, C., & Labate, B. C. (2017). Ayahuasca practices as intangible cultural
heritage: A new piece in the drug policy puzzle? [Paper presentation], Psyche-
delic Science 2017, Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Science, Oak-
land, CA, United States.
Santos, J. O. (2010). Diferentes contextos, múltiplos objetos: reflexões acerca do
pedido de patrimonialização da Ayahuasca [Different contexts, multiple objects:
Reflections on the request for the cultural heritage registration of ayahuasca] [Pres-
entation]. 27th Brazilian Anthropology Meeting, Belém-Pará, Brazil. Available
at: http://neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/santos_patrimonializao_
ayahuasca.pdf
The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).
(2011). Decision of the Intergovernmental Committee: 6.COM 13.9. 2011. Avail-
able at: http://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/Traditional_
knowledge_jaguar_ shamans_Yurupari_ Heritage_ Humanity_U N ESCO_
2011-1.pdf
9 “Authorization? That’s
Outrageous:” Ayahuasca
Environmental Legislation and
Indigenous Populations in Brazil
Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Henrique Fernandes
Antunes and Igor Fernandes Antunes
Introduction
The deforestation of Amazon rainforest in the last decades has escalated
to alarming levels, especially due to the spread of cattle ranching, palm
oil plantations, gold mining, and other economic activities (Moran, 2017).
In Peru and Brazil respectively, approximately 1.5 and 3 million acres of
Amazonian rainforest are cut annually, at a rate that has increased over the
years. In Brazil, particularly, the deforestation has risen significantly after
the election of President Jair Bolsonaro in 2018, mainly because of his pred-
atory stance on environmental policies. This troubling scenario has drawn
the attention of researchers, NGOs, indigenous populations, and interna-
tional bodies, as well as national States, attesting to an increasing uneas-
iness regarding the consequences and impacts of the deforestation of the
Amazon rainforest, not only for South American countries, but worldwide.
When it comes to the use of ayahuasca, in addition to the problems asso-
ciated with deforestation, the increasing demand on the beverage as a con-
sequence of the world ayahuasca diaspora (Labate et al., 2018), beyond the
realms of the Amazonian rainforest, has also generated local problems. As
Suárez Álvarez (2019, 2020) states, gatherers, intermediaries, processors,
and exporters based in Peru often condemn the overexploitation of wild aya-
huasca vine. According to him, in Peru, there are complaints that the vine
has disappeared from the surroundings of numerous villages and from acces-
sible areas of the forest, obligating gatherers to travel deeper into the forest
to find them. As reported by the author, these local actors stress that traded
specimens are younger and thinner, and that the price of ayahuasca has mul-
tiplied by four in the last five years due to the increasing demand. In Brazil,
the expansion and internationalization of ayahuasca religions has also raised
concerns regarding the growing pressure on plant species. As a result, debates
have increasingly emerged around the need to promote ayahuasca sustaina-
bility, and to create legal measures to preserve the ayahuasca vine and the
chacruna plant (Antunes & Antunes, 2021; Ermakova, 2022).
The end of the 1990s marked the beginning of the development of
the first environmental legislation directed exclusively at ayahuasca,
160 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-10

“Authorization? That’s Outrageous” 161
opening a new flank of public policies on ayahuasca use in Brazil. Hence,
in addition to drug policies and heritage policies, the religious use of
ayahuasca became a subject of concern by environmental agencies, which
sought to establish criteria and standards to regulate the practices of
ayahuasca groups and to preserve the plant species used in producing
ayahuasca.
This chapter addresses the recent development of environmental legisla-
tion on ayahuasca in Brazil and its controversies. Initially, we analyze the
environmental legislation in the states of Acre and Rondônia, developed
in order to regulate the extraction, transport, and circulation of the plant
species used to make ayahuasca. Next, we focus on the impact of such leg-
islation on traditional populations that consume ayahuasca, as well as the
controversies generated from its implementation, especially with regard to
the Amazonian indigenous populations.
We highlight the important and innovative character of the legislation,
which involved the establishment of a number of procedures in order pre-
serve the plant species in their natural habitat, as well as providing a series
of guidelines for ayahuasca-using groups regarding the production of the
brew. We note, however, that, beyond the legitimate initiative to preserve
the plant species that make up ayahuasca, and the timely concerns around
the progressive extraction and commercialization of ayahuasca by different
groups in the Northern Amazonian states, this new environmental legisla-
tion has created novel forms of control and restriction on the practices of
ayahuasca groups in Brazil, with special burdens on small urban churches
and indigenous groups.
It is important to note that the main Brazilian ayahuasca groups in
Acre and Rondônia—Alto Santo Universal Light Christian Illumination
Center (CICLU-Alto Santo), Union of the Vegetal Beneficent Spiritist
Center (UDV), and Spiritist Center and Praying House of Jesus, Source of
Light (Barquinha)—appear to have supported the creation of these new
bureaucratic and institutional standards and regulatory parameters. As
an unforeseen outcome, the environmental legislation has worked in prac-
tical terms as a means to oversee and restrict different forms of ayahuasca
consumption. As a result of these dilemmas, a number of Amazonian
indigenous groups have publicly positioned themselves as contesting some
of the State initiatives regarding the production and circulation of aya-
huasca, and establishing a new political agenda focused on the indigenous
use of ayahuasca. This novelty gave rise to new demands, such as the
right of free circulation of the ayahuasca and the freedom to produce and
consume it beyond their territories. This recent indigenous movement has
further led to the contestation of the protocols and bureaucracies stip-
ulated by the legislation on the religious use of ayahuasca in Brazil, as
they demand to establish a dialog with the Brazilian State with the aim of
developing public policies that focus on the indigenous use of ayahuasca
in the Brazilian territory.
Environmental Legislation on Ayahuasca and Its
Controversies
As highlighted above, although the first public policies regulating the
religious use of ayahuasca date from the 1980s, the environmental poli-
cies on ayahuasca began only in the late 1990s. On August 17, 1998, the
Brazilian Institute of Environment and Natural Resources (IBAMA) devel-
oped the first environmental regulation that contemplated ayahuasca.
Ordinance 117 stipulated that, in order to obtain an Authorization for
Transporting Forest Products, ayahuasca groups should present their stat-
utes certifying legitimate social objectives. The ordinance also requested
groups to provide a declaration with an estimate of the quantity and species
of forest products to be transported annually, and to prepare a reforestation
project for the affected species. Yet, according to IBAMA agronomist from
Acre, Edna Maia, ayahuasca extraction was uncontrolled at that time due
to lack of oversight (Labate, 2014).
In the 2000s, however, IBAMA began stricter policing of ayahuasca
extraction and transportation. This change came at the request of the aya-
huasca religions themselves, concerned with regulating extraction of the
raw materials and the commercialization of ayahuasca. From July 4 to 7,
IBAMA carried out several meetings with ayahuasca groups to discuss the
difficulties regarding the new regulations. Many themes were addressed,
such as: the possibility of carrying out forest management plans instead of
reforestation, the need for the larger churches to provide greater collabora-
tion with the smaller churches, the need to identify the origin of cultivated
and wild varieties of the vine and leaf, the mapping of harvest territories
on private property to avoid overlap of extraction areas, the possibility of
requesting parcels from the Agrarian Reform Agency (INCRA) for churches
that do not possess adequate land, replantation nurseries to replace har-
vested plants, tax exemption for areas that promote a management plan,
identifying areas of common collection and the creation of collective har-
vest reserves, and exportation of material to other parts of Brazil on the
condition of the implementation of a management plan (Labate, 2014).
These meetings were crucial for the development of Resolution No. 4,
in which IBAMA-Acre addresses the regulation related to the harvest and
transportation of plant species that make up the ayahuasca (IBAMA,
2001). The Resolution states that the Authorization for Transportation of
Forest Products (ATFP) requires a prior registration with IBAMA in the
State of Acre. To obtain this authorization, thus, ayahuasca groups must
have a National Register of Legal Entities (CNPJ) for religious institutions.
According to the Resolution, the ATFP request must be made at least 15
days before the harvest date. Conversely, IBAMA has the right to visit the
site before the harvest of the plant material to inspect if there are forest
resources in the required quantity, as well as the right to return to the site
after the harvest to check whether the norms proposed in the Resolution
have been followed. The issuing of the ATFP is also conditioned to the
presentation of a Forest Recomposition Program by the interested party
(IBAMA, 2001).
One of the major points of this legislation relates to concern with the
techniques for harvesting the plant species. The agency indicated that aya-
huasca groups must be careful not to cause environmental damage to the
natural habitat of the vine and the shrub, and they must also ensure the
conservation of these species. In that regard, the State agency highlights a
number of techniques that must be used to harvest these forest resources. If
the established rules are disrespected or if the material is collected without
authorization, the institution may be fined and lose the right to request
the ATFP for 12 months. According to the document, the seized material
may be granted to another institution previously registered with IBAMA in
Acre (IBAMA, 2001). If one considers the increasing demand of the plant
species used in its manufacture as a result of the expansion of ayahuasca
use in Brazil and internationally, the opportunity for registered groups to
utilize the plant materials that would be discarded represent an extremely
important measure.
Another crucial point of the Resolution is the proposal for the estab-
lishment of partnerships between the ayahuasca groups and the owners of
areas that are being licensed for deforestation. Through this initiative, the
registered groups can reach an agreement with landowners to search for the
presence of the plant species in the areas that will be deforested, in order to
collect the material before the deforestation takes place. This is definitely a
pioneering and creative measure, since it establishes the possibility of using
forest resources that ultimately would be lost in deforestation. As Thevenin
(2017) points out, in the state of Rondônia, for example, the expansion of
farming and ranching activities has caused the advance of deforestation,
consequently affecting the native forest and the availability of these forest
resources in their natural habitat. It is worth stressing, however, that the
measure has a limited reach, since most deforestation in the Amazon biome
occurs illegally.
In 2010, almost a decade after IBAMA’s Resolution, the issue of environ-
mental legislation regarding ayahuasca in the state of Acre was revisited.
At the time, the agencies involved were the State Council of Environment,
Science and Technology (CEMACT) and the State Council of Forests (CFE).
The agencies developed Joint Resolution No. 4, of December 20, 2010.
The Resolution substantiates some of the points previously established by
IBAMA, but it also creates new procedures (CEMACT & CFE, 2010).
Like IBAMA, the agencies also require the registration of ayahuasca
groups in order to harvest or collect plant species. Nevertheless, unlike
IBAMA’s Resolution, the Joint Resolution determines that the registration
must be done, not at IBAMA headquarters in the State of Acre, but at the
Acre Environment Institute (IMAC), in Rio Branco. According to the doc-
ument, after harvesting the plants, the entities have 30 days to send IMAC
a report containing the following information: the location of the harvest
site; the date on which the procedure was performed; the amount of mate-
rial collected in kilograms, both vine and leaves; the amount of beverage
produced in liters and the date of preparation; the procedures adopted for
the extraction and collection of the material; and the annual quota used
(CEMACT & CFE, 2010). One can note that one of the effects of the grow-
ing concern of environmental agencies with the exploitation of the plant
species that make up ayahuasca relates to the standardization and bureau-
cratization of the processes regarding the harvest and transport of forest
resources, hindering the capacity of certain groups that do not possess the
means to fulfill all the requirements of regulatory agencies.
The Joint Resolution also establishes the precautions that must be taken
concerning the harvest and collection of plant species. The document reaf-
firms IBAMA’s measures regarding harvesting techniques and the conser-
vation of the plant species and their natural habitat. The agencies advise
ayahuasca groups to develop a recomposition plan compatible with their
average annual consumption. The groups that grow the plant species on
their properties must be registered with the environmental agency, and they
must inform them of the quantity of resources to be exploited in the cul-
tivated area. A pioneering point in this legislation refers to the definition
of the quota of forest resources that can be extracted per harvest and also
annually: 1,200 kilograms of vine and 180 kilograms of chacruna per har-
vest; and 4,800 kilograms of vine and 720 kilograms of chacruna leaves
each year. The forest resources extracted from the groups’ own plantations
are not accounted for (CEMACT & CFE, 2010). On the one hand, this
measure imposes a limit on the extraction of these forest resources, con-
tributing directly to their preservation; on the other hand, the exclusion of
material collected from the plantation itself in the annual extraction quota
gives the groups more flexibility regarding the production of ayahuasca,
since the majority of the plants used by the groups comes from their own
plantations.
Finally, the agencies determined that the extraction and collection of
these forest resources for the purpose of making ayahuasca by traditional
and indigenous populations, as well as for family or individual use, carried
out in their own areas, are exempt from licensing. Nonetheless, the agencies
indicate that this exemption prevents the transport of these forest resources
beyond their areas of origin. This has some practical implications for these
groups, since it limits the extraction of the plant species to their territories,
and it prevents the transport of the material collected in their areas to other
locations.
Beyond the State of Acre, it is worth noting the role of Rondônia in the
environmental regulation of ayahuasca in Brazil. The Legislative Assembly
of Rondônia enacted Bill 3.653, which institutes the religious freedom to
use ayahuasca in the State (Rondônia, 2015). Overall, there is no novelty in
relation to previous legislations. The bill reaffirms the need for registration
with the state environmental agencies in order to obtain an authorization
to collect and transport forest resources. Unlike the procedures adopted by
Acre state regulatory agencies, however, Bill 3.653 does not establish the
techniques that should be adopted for the harvest of forest resources.
It is noteworthy that both these measures proposed by the public agen-
cies touch on the need of registration in order to authorize the harvest,
collection, and transport of forest resources. This requirement is the focus
of intense controversy among ayahuasca groups, and especially amid indig-
enous populations of the Amazon, who encounter several bureaucratic and
legal hurdles in complying with the requirements of the environmental reg-
ulatory agencies. On this matter, it is worth highlighting that the envi-
ronmental regulations on ayahuasca focused solely on the groups that fall
within the context of the religious use of the beverage, whose practices have
been previously recognized and regulated by the National Council on Drug
Policy (CONAD, 2006, 2010).
One must consider the importance of the growing political articulation
between the religious ayahuasca groups in the Amazon and the drug policy
regulatory agencies over the last decades, especially in the State of Acre. As
Labate (2014), MacRae (2010), and Antunes (2012) indicate, the regulation
processes and the public recognition of Brazilian ayahuasca religions—as
occurred with the Afro-Brazilian religions decades earlier—were marked
by the active participation of actors from various social segments, such as
physicians, psychiatrists, social scientists, historians, policy makers, and
religious representatives, among others, who lobbied for the recognition of
the ritual use of ayahuasca in Brazil as a legitimate religious practice to the
public authorities. Considering the increasing role of actors linked to these
religions, and their articulations with regulatory agencies, it is not surpris-
ing that the development of public policies on ayahuasca had these groups
as their main focus.
According to Rance (2020), at first glance, indigenous populations may
have been the victims of the actions perpetrated by ayahuasca religions
and by the government agencies at large. Nevertheless, Rance develops an
alternative explanation, presenting indigenous populations as “the least
powerful players in a complex and rather acrimonious game involving a
wide group of marginalized sects struggling for survival” (Rance, 2020,
p. 63). Instead of portraying the indigenous populations as passive victims
of a political game, however, one must bear in mind that there were no
restrictions nor regulations regarding the use of ayahuasca by indigenous
populations—including the right to harvest, produce, and consume aya-
huasca—in their own territories. Their recent and increasing incursions in
the urban ayahuasca circuits, nonetheless, has created a number of legal
conundrums, since the regulation process that started in the 1980s, and
that was consolidated by the Brazilian government in 2000s, focused solely
on the use of ayahuasca by the religious groups. In light of this, one cannot
support Rance’s (2020) hypothesis that the lack of regulation regarding
the indigenous use of ayahuasca is mainly due to the fact the indigenous
populations had, thus far, no political strength. The lack of a specific reg-
ulation based on the demands of indigenous groups is, above all, the result
of their absence until now in the urban circuits of ayahuasca consumption,
which have been the object of regulation for decades (see also, Labate &
Coutinho, 2014).
Nevertheless, one must highlight, as DiMaggio and Powell (1983) point
out, that the establishment of government policies that regulate distinct
groups and practices in a similar fashion inevitably result in a homoge-
nizing trend, to the extent that disparate organizations are institutionally
constrained to assume similar practices. This phenomenon is observed in
the development of environmental policies regarding ayahuasca, since the
groups that fit into the religious context—which has been regulated by
CONAD in the last decades—are able to meet the requirements present in
the legislation, while indigenous groups often encounter institutional and
bureaucratic barriers that tend to force them to adopt the religious model
stipulated for the regulation of ayahuasca use in Brazil. Despite the limi-
tations imposed by the policies in question, the growing presence, and the
increasing visibility of indigenous ethnic groups in urban ayahuasca cir-
cuits, has given rise to new demands and, consequently, to the development
of new tensions. The next section will analyze the controversies that arise
when Indigenous Peoples face the limitations imposed by environmental
legislation and the regulation of the religious use of ayahuasca in Brazil.
“Authorization? That’s Outrageous:” Ayahuasca Legislation

and Indigenous Populations
There is an urgent, growing concern on the part of public authorities with
the conservation of the plant species that make up ayahuasca, and, as a
result, the encouragement of sustainable practices by ayahuasca groups in
Brazil. Despite this justifiable interest, one must highlight that the legisla-
tion at hand has also created an excessive bureaucratic burden not only for
indigenous populations, but also for the smaller groups which are unable
to meet the legal demands. Hence, one could argue that the environmen-
tal legislation on ayahuasca is characterized by a combination of legiti-
mate environmental protections and selective targeting of certain groups
(Antunes & Antunes, 2021).
This scenario has generated a number of problems and controversies,
especially among indigenous populations, as they progressively insert them-
selves into the ayahuasca urban circuits of Brazil. In fact, the indigenous
use of ayahuasca in some of Brazil’s largest cities became more pronounced
only in the early 2000s. This new phenomenon started with multicultural
festivals in cities in Acre, attracting the attention of tourists, and with the
promotion of workshops in large cities in Brazil, as well as retreats and
ceremonies for middle-class groups and foreigners (Labate & Coutinho,
2014).
At the same time, the Amazonian Indigenous Peoples started a new
social, political, and cultural movement, consolidating a new agenda with
their demands on the use of ayahuasca. One of the events that contributed
significantly to the development of this new political agenda was, undoubt-
edly, the II World Ayahuasca Conference, held in Acre, in 2016. The con-
ference was organized by the Spanish NGO, the International Center for
Ethnobotanical Education, Research, and Service (ICEERS). The event was
attended by representatives of several indigenous ethnic groups, members
of Brazilian ayahuasca religions, representatives of government agencies, as
well as psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, physicians, politicians,
and local authorities (Labate & Assis, in this volume). As stated by Labate
and Goulart (2016, 2019), and by Labate and Assis (in this volume), among
the tensions that surfaced within the event, there were a number of discus-
sions around the notions of “authenticity,” “originality,” and “tradition.”
The discontent of the indigenous representatives was reaffirmed in the
“Open Letter of the Indigenous Peoples of Acre to the II World Ayahuasca
Conference” (Chacruna Institute, 2020b). The authors of the letter empha-
sized that, despite the considerable number of indigenous participants, they
did not feel like an effective part of the creation and organization of the
event. Among the main points, the letter criticized the overly academic for-
mat of the conference. According to the indigenous representatives at the
event, the conference organizers should have understood that the majority
of participants were not scholars, and that ayahuasca is not restricted to the
scientific realm, but encompasses broader issues, such as identity politics,
traditional knowledge and rituals, forms of sacredness, culture, and ancient
practices.
Another groundbreaking initiative that helped shape the indigenous
agenda on ayahuasca regards the organization of indigenous conferences
on ayahuasca. On that matter, the I Indigenous Ayahuasca Conference,
held in 2017 in the Poyanawa Indigenous Land, Acre, was an important
milestone. The event was attended by a number of indigenous leaders from
the Juruá River and Alto Purus region, as well as public authorities from
Acre (Dias, 2018; Tukano, 2019).1
One of the main results of the discussions held throughout the I Indige-
nous Ayahuasca Conference was the elaboration of the Internal Recommen-
dation Letter (IRL) (Chacruna Institute, 2020a), signed by representatives
of the various indigenous ethnic groups present at the event. The letter
criticized the lack of respect regarding the oversight of regulatory agencies
in relation to the circulation of ayahuasca among Indigenous Peoples. The
IRL also presented a concern regarding “inadequate use of medicines by
the nawás [non-Indigenous People] and/or churches and their commerciali-
zation, which can generate serious problems associated with their use.” The
letter addresses specifically, “the use of ayahuasca by the nawás in various
kinds of festivals and other spaces, typically in pill form like a psychedelic
drug” (Chacruna Institute, 2020a).
One can note, therefore, the increasing unease vis-à-vis the misuses of
ayahuasca, which has become a recurring issue on the political agenda of
indigenous populations, as one can attest in Daiara Tukano’s (Chacruna
Latinoamérica, 2021) comment on the issue, “the misuse of indigenous
medicines is something that we have been facing for the last 500 years….
We understand the real danger that ayahuasca may be facing concerning
the global unrestrained use.” However, the indigenous criticism regarding
the misuses of ayahuasca is not directed only at the recreational practices
by random users, but also toward nationally recognized groups, such as
some of the main Brazilian ayahuasca religions, as Daiara’s speech attests:
No forest, no ayahuasca. I have been hearing some claims from people

who think that they will be able to prepare ayahuasca by planting it
in large quantities in Hawaii, and supplying it to the world market,
treating the vine as if it were an object of extractivism, a market thing,
as if it were a chemical element…. If you take this away [ayahuasca]
from the forest life, from this context, you are being very hypocritical
and cynical, because we are defending 80% of the world’s diversity,
that is found on indigenous lands…. So, there is no point in converting
the indigenous medicine of the forest, ayahuasca, into a world market,
national market, church, or whatever, if the discourse does not relate
to the day-to-day ethical practice of respecting life. There is no use in
talking about the “Queen of the forest,” “the army of the forest,” if
you are not on our side, defending the territories where life still exists.
(Chacruna Latinoamérica, 2021, our translation)
Daira’s reference to the Queen of the forest, the main spiritual guide of
several Santo Daime branches, attests to the underlying tensions between
Indigenous Peoples and ayahuasca religions. These tensions revolve around
issues and notions of ancestrality and tradition, and they highlight the
divergences and the critical stance of some indigenous leaders regarding
the claims of certain ayahuasca religions as the bearers of the knowledge
behind the ritual use of ayahuasca. This criticism can be attested also on the
comment made by an indigenous representative at the II World Ayahuasca
Conference, according to which: “While Mestre Irineu [the founder of
Santo Daime] is a 100 years old, we are millenary” (MacRae, in press).
Notwithstanding the criticism of Indigenous Peoples regarding Bra-
zilian ayahuasca religions, it is important to highlight that, in 2006,
CONAD established a number of measures to safeguard the “responsible
use” of ayahuasca. These recommendations were developed by a multi-
disciplinary working group, which included scholars from the fields of
anthropology, psychiatry, pharmacology, as well as representatives of the
government and of the main Brazilian ayahuasca religions. According to
the report:
The MWG, after several discussions and analyses, where pluralism and
the encounter of ideas prevailed, considered the inadequate use of aya-
huasca to be: the practice of commerce, the touristic exploitation of the
drink, the use associated with illicit psychoactive substances, the use
outside of religious rituals, therapeutic activity without the support of
scientific research privative of professions regulated by the law, quack-
ery, propaganda, and other practices that may place at risk the physical
and mental health of individuals.
(CONAD, 2006, p. 9)
It is noteworthy that, although both CONAD’s report and IRL share a con-
cern in regard to the commercialization of ayahuasca, the notions of misuse
put forward by the Brazilian drug agency and the indigenous representatives
are not the same. While CONAD defines the religious use of ayahuasca as
the only legally recognized practice, stating that the healing rituals of some
of the Brazilian ayahuasca religions are actually religious practices and
should not be considered therapy, per se, the IRL recognizes the legitimacy
of indigenous therapeutic practices with ayahuasca and defines ayahuasca
as a traditional medicine. In addition, the concern of indigenous repre-
sentatives with the possibility of the recreational use of ayahuasca is also
extended to Brazilian ayahuasca religions. One can note, therefore, that the
notion of responsible use of ayahuasca is not a consensus. On the contrary,
it is a term in constant dispute that has different meanings, connotations,
and implications, depending on the actors involved.
Besides the issue of the potential misuses of ayahuasca, indigenous cir-
culation with ayahuasca is another extremely relevant subject addressed by
the letter and by many indigenous representatives on multiple occasions.
Among the main points of the IRL, it is possible to highlight the suggestion
to register indigenous associations as “religious institutions” in order to
harvest the plant species and circulate ayahuasca outside their territories.
According to CONAD, the groups that consume ayahuasca are required to
have a National Registry of Legal Entities (CNPJ) to receive and send ship-
ments of ayahuasca, as well as to transport the drink that has been brewed.
The possibility of applying for registration as a religious institution, as
stipulated by environmental legislation, is the subject of controversy among
indigenous representatives. On the one hand, it is possible to find state-
ments that point to the use of ayahuasca as an indigenous religion, a pri-
ori, questioning the need to institutionalize something that is already an
intrinsic part of indigenous religiosity. This stance is clear in the speech of
Biraci Brasil, who was prevented from traveling with ayahuasca in airports
in Acre on more than one occasion. “Authorization? That’s outrageous.
The traditional and millennial knowledge of Christians, who place their
Bibles everywhere in the world (inside hotels, on airplanes, in churches…),
or Muslims with the Koran, that are respected all over the world. What
about ours?” (Santos, 2018, p. 136, our translation).
However, there are leaders who take a different stance, positioning them-
selves in a more radical way regarding public authorities. Some indigenous
leaders question the legitimacy of the legal mechanisms established by pub-
lic agencies regarding the uses, production, and circulation of ayahuasca.
This position is evident in the speech of Francisco Pianko, an Ashaninka
leader:
If we are going to use these legal instruments and create organizations

to be able to circulate with our ayahuasca, we will be giving in, weak-
ening ourselves…. It is clear that this cannot be solved just by putting it
on paper. This is a deeper process.
(Santos, 2018, p. 138, our translation)
It is striking that the procedures stipulated by the regulatory bodies are

criticized not only by indigenous leaders, but also by public authorities. In
a speech at the I Indigenous Ayahuasca Conference, Claudia Aguirre—a
member of the state attorney’s office of the State of Acre—addressed the
issue of the circulation of ayahuasca by Indigenous Peoples, arguing that
“it is not the white man, from the outside, who is going to regulate this.
Nor can it be. Do not give us that power. The Convention 169 states that
the traditional methods of conflict Resolution must be respected” (Santos,
2018, p. 54, our translation). Aguirre’s speech mentions the 1989 Conven-
tion 169 of the International Labor Organization (ILO) on Indigenous and
Tribal Peoples, drawing on an international treaty to suggest that Indige-
nous Peoples have legitimacy to build their own mechanisms to regulate
their practices and knowledge. Aguirre also referred to the convention to
question the need to register indigenous associations in order to circulate
with ayahuasca in Brazil.
Do you need a register to defend rights? Strictly speaking, no. Because,

if one considers Convention 169, there is no need of an association, nor
the need of legal register, to exercise one’s rights. That is not necessary,
also, according to the Federal Constitution…. If CONAD allows the
religious use, why doesn’t it allow the sacred use within the indigenous
traditions, which is granted in the Federal Constitution? I don’t guar-
antee that the Judiciary system will accept this stance. But this is a daily
struggle. Convention 169 did not fall from the sky, it was developed
because several people started to say, “This notion of human rights
does not serve us much.” Convention 169 was very much a rereading
of this [notion of human rights]. So, you have to bear that idea in mind
and make use of it.
(Santos, 2018, p. 151, our translation)
Aguirre’s speech reinforces the criticism of indigenous representatives
regarding the lack of legitimacy of the Brazilian State to elaborate pub-
lic policies that address indigenous demands, resorting to an international
legal device whose scope goes beyond the limits of the national State. The
dissatisfaction concerning the Brazilian State and the recourse to interna-
tional law was also corroborated in the statement of Daiara Tukano after
the end of the I Indigenous Ayahuasca Conference. Daiara even suggests
the mobilization of international organizations such as the United Nations
Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) to give visi-
bility to the cause of indigenous use of ayahuasca:
It was a very important conversation because we came to the conclusion

that this medicine is part of our origins. We realized that Brazilian laws
and also the international treaties already recognize indigenous rights
as an original right. And the most important indigenous right relates
to their cultural practices, which is their identity. Thus, the circulation
with our medicines and our ceremonies are part of an original right,
and the original right in Brazil is a permanent clause. The original right
comes before the implementation of other laws, because we are the
original people of this land. In light of this concern, we decided to
articulate ourselves on how to establish a dialogue with public author-
ities, with the Brazilian government, but also with other international
agencies such as UNESCO, and even with other countries, to make it
clear what indigenous rights are.
(Crônicas Indigenistas, 2018)
Daiara’s speech is important in two levels. On the one hand, as in Aguirre’s

speech, the mention of international treaties and UNESCO highlights the
mobilization of legal instruments developed in the international domain.
This stance inserts indigenous claims in a broader and universalistic set of
rights that goes beyond the jurisdiction of the Brazilian State. On the other
hand, the notion of “original right” highlights the specificity of the status
of Indigenous Peoples under Brazilian law and the limits of its legal instru-
ments to deal with their demands.
These issues reemerged in the following Ayahuasca Indigenous Con-
ferences. In the declaration made after the second conference, the Indig-
enous Peoples stressed the need to define strategies in order to obtain
the authorization for the circulation of “ayahuasca,” and to demand the
creation of institutional arrangements for applying and disseminating
traditional rights (Chacruna Institute, 2020b). In turn, the declaration pre-
sented at the Third Indigenous Conference on Ayahuasca requested that
environmental laws recognize and valorize indigenous wisdom and prac-
tical knowledge regarding the management of natural resources, stress-
ing the need of the support of licensing, monitoring, and control agencies
(Chacruna Institute, 2020c).
In a broader perspective, therefore, the insertion of Indigenous Peoples
in the urban circuits of ayahuasca consumption and the lack of legislation
that specifically addresses their demands have created a series of legal prob-
lems and public controversies. These controversies have given rise to a new
set of demands, such as the freedom to produce, circulate with, and min-
ister ayahuasca beyond their territories. This recent protagonism clashed,
however, with the protocols and bureaucracies stipulated by the legisla-
tion on the religious use of ayahuasca in Brazil. As a result, the represent-
atives of the Indigenous Peoples have organized themselves, creating new
forums to publicize their political agenda and to demand a dialog with the
Brazilian State in order to develop public policies regarding the indigenous
use of ayahuasca in Brazilian territory. Beyond the controversies and their
unfolding, one thing is certain: The increasing presence and the growing
protagonism of Indigenous Peoples in the public debate regarding the use
of ayahuasca in Brazil is a trend that is here to stay and that has blurred
established borders and categories, creating new political alliances in the
ayahuasca universe.
Conclusion
This chapter presented the environmental policies on the use of ayahuasca
in Brazil and their controversies. As argued, despite the legitimate and nec-
essary interest in preserving the plant species that make up ayahuasca, this
legislation has created a series of impediments for groups with difficulties in
adapting to these bureaucratic and legal requirements, especially for Indig-
enous Peoples and small religious groups outside the Amazon (the latter
we did not explore much here). It would be premature to say that this is
a deliberate discriminatory act against Indigenous People, since they have
complete autonomy to collect the plants, produce, and consume ayahuasca
in their territories.
Nevertheless, one cannot fail to mention that the development of public
policies, in dialog with the main Brazilian ayahuasca religions in the last
decades, has created a specific frame for the regulation of ayahuasca use
in Brazil. Despite the generic understanding and rhetoric of law enforce-
ment, government authorities, scholars, and representatives of the Brazil-
ian ayahuasca religions, that ayahuasca comes from Indigenous People in
the Amazon, since the early regulation conversations emerged in the 1980s
in dialog with some Santo Daime branches and the UDV, the following
2010 CONAD Resolution proposes a model that focuses solely on the reli-
gious use by these groups, as such. As a result, “religious” use appears to
have become the only legitimate practice in the country. This specific legal
frame, in addition with the current silence regarding the rights of Indige-
nous Peoples beyond their territories, raises new public problems. These
controversies become evident as the indigenous use of ayahuasca is now
inserted in a broader context of ayahuasca consumption in large urban
centers in Brazil, corroborating the urgent need for revisiting the current
regulations, and adapting and creating public policies that meet the specific
demands and needs of Indigenous Peoples.
According to our fieldwork, there are many claims that these resolutions
were strategic decisions taken behind closed doors by ayahuasca churches
that consider themselves the holders of ayahuasca traditions in Brazil—such
as Alto Santo, UDV and Barquinha—in order to stop the exportation of aya-
huasca plant species, and the brew, outside of the Amazon; both inside Brazil
and abroad. The main concern of these more orthodox groups has been with
the practices of neoayahuasqueiro groups (Labate 2004, Labate & Araújo,
2004) and dissident groups that derive from the main Brazilian ayahuasca
religions, considered by some as “non-sacred,” “non-religious,” “commer-
cial,” or “non-responsible” uses, as well as with the large production and
exportation of ayahuasca both internally and externally, especially to meet
the increasing demand of a foreign clientele. These legitimate environmen-
tal concerns walk hand-in-hand with judgments on what are the proper and
acceptable uses of ayahuasca, affecting not only Brazilian neoayahuasqueiros
and foreigners who try to obtain ayahuasca in Brazil to consume in cere-
monies in their home territories, but Indigenous Peoples as well. This new
legal panorama has generated a growing demand for all ayahuasca groups to
organize and present themselves according to the requirements attached to the
categories of “organized church” and “religion.” Regardless of the intentions
and projects of some ayahuasca religions, we cannot ignore that this religious
frame presents constraints, even if incidentally, for indigenous groups. One
cannot challenge that, in practical terms, the legislation has acted in a way
that supports some groups, while restricting the actions of others.
These new resolutions create an example worldwide by raising the pio-
neering issue that people interested in consuming ayahuasca need to pay
attention to its sustainability. However, the logic developed to guide envi-
ronmental legislation creates an important problem concerning public pol-
icies on ayahuasca in Brazil: They grant legal recognition and legitimacy to
a limited number of groups that have the geographical, financial, and insti-
tutional structure to comply with intricate State regulations, at the expense
of the impossibility of legal recognition for a large part of the groups and
traditional and contemporary populations that consume ayahuasca.
As we demonstrated, this legal constraint has created a burden for Indig-
enous Peoples. As a result, these populations have organized themselves
politically in order to contest some of the government’s actions, and to
fight for the legal right to perform indigenous ceremonies outside their ter-
ritories. In turn, the strengthening of the indigenous political agenda, both
on this front and in relation to the topic of cultural heritage (see Labate &
Assis, in this volume), has shaken the public debate, questioning the State’s
capacity to regulate the indigenous use of ayahuasca, and contesting the
self-proclaimed role of ayahuasca religions as the bearers of ayahuasca tra-
dition in Brazil. As ayahuasca scholars, it is not our goal to challenge the
importance of ayahuasca religions as legitimate traditions, but to address
the consequences of the religious framing of the legislation and its impacts
on certain populations. That said, we must stress the necessity for local
governments to establish a dialog with these groups in order to develop
alternative means to protect these plant species and to promote ayahuasca
sustainability without hindering their practices.
Note
1 The Indigenous Peoples of Acre held two more Indigenous Ayahuasca Conferences in
2018 and 2019. As a result, two letters were published that update the demands and
stance of Indigenous Peoples regarding the use of ayahuasca (Chacruna Institute, 2020b,
2020c).
References
Antunes, H. F. (2012). Droga, religião e cultura: um mapeamento da controvér-
sia pública sobre o uso da ayahuasca no Brasil [Drug, religion and culture: A
mapping of the public controversy on ayahuasca use in Brazil] (Master’s thesis).
University of São Paulo.
Antunes, H. F., & Antunes, I. (2021, May 20). Controversies on the environmen-
tal legislation on ayahuasca in Brazil. Chacruna Institute. https://chacruna.net/
ayahuasca_conservation_laws_brazil/
Brazilian Institute of Environment and Natural Resources (IBAMA). (2001). Por-
taria n.º 4 [Ordinance n. 4]. Acre. http://www.mestreirineu.org/portaria_004_
ibama.htm
Chacruna Institute. (2020a, January 30). Declaration of the 1st Brazilian Indig-
enous Conference on Ayahuasca. Chacruna Institute. https://chacruna.net/
declaration-of-the-1st-brazilian-indigenous-conference-on-ayahuasca/
Chacruna Institute. (2020b, January 30). Declaration of the 2nd Brazilian Indig-
declaration-of-the-2nd-brazilian-indigenous-conference-on-ayahuasca/
Chacruna Institute. (2020c, January 30c). Declaration of the 3rd Brazilian Indig-
declaration-of-the-3rd-brazilian-indigenous-conference-on-ayahuasca/.
Chacruna Latinoamérica. (2021, September 6). Perspectivas Indígenas: “Marco
Temporal” e PL da Ayahuasca [Indigenous perspectives: “Temporal milestone”
and the ayahuasca bill]. https://chacruna-la.org/marco-temporal-e-ayahuasca/
Crônicas Indigenistas. (2018, January 1). Daiara Tukano “Trocas e globalização da
ayahuasca” [Daiara Tukano: “Exchanges and the globalization of ayahuasca”]
[Video file]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QidmaDBEHA.
Dias, M. (2018, July 12). First Indigenous ayahuasca Yubaka-Hayra conference
in Acre: The wisdom of the ancients. Chacruna Institute. https://chacruna.
net/1st-indigenous-ayahuasca-conference-yubaka-hayra-acre-brazil-the-wis-
dom-of-the-elders/
Dimaggio, P. J., & Powell, W. W. (1983). The iron cage revisited: Institutional
isomorphism and collective rationality. American Sociological Review, 48(2),
147–160.
Ermakova, A. (2022, July 15). The global ayahuasca boom: What about the
conservation of the ayahuasca vine? Chacruna Institute. https://chacruna.net/
ayahuasca-vine-globalization-conservation/
Labate, B. C. (2004). A reinvenção do uso da ayahuasca nos centros urbanos [The
reinvention of ayahuasca use in urban centers]. Mercado das Letras.
Labate, B. C. (2014, June 30). Legal, ethical, and political dimensions of aya-
huasca consumption in Brazil, v. 2.0. Original text in Portuguese: Labate, B. C.,
& Goulart, S. L. (Eds.). (2005). O Uso Ritual das Plantas de Poder [The ritual
use of plants of power], pp. 397–457). Mercado de Letras. https://www.erowid.
org/chemicals/ayahuasca/ayahuasca_law30.shtml.
Labate, B. C., & Araújo, W. S. (Eds.). (2004). O uso ritual da ayahuasca [The
ritual use of ayahuasca]. Mercado das Letras.
Labate, B. C., & Assis, G. L. (in this volume). A genealogy of the ayahuasca cul-
tural heritage registration process in Brazil.
Labate, B. C., Cavnar, C., & Gearin, A. K. (2018). The world ayahuasca diaspora:
Reinventions and controversies. Routledge.
Labate, B. C., & Coutinho, T. (2014). “O meu avô deu a ayahuasca para o Mestre
Irineu”: reflexões sobre a entrada dos índios no circuito urbano de consumo de
ayahuasca no Brasil [“My grandfather gave Mestre Irineu ayahuasca:” reflec-
tions on the entry of indigenous populations into the urban circuit of ayahuasca
consumption in Brazil]. Revista De Antropologia, 57(2), 215–250. https://doi.
org/10.11606/2179-0892.ra.2014.89113.
Labate, B. C., & Goulart, S. L. (2016). Religião, política e cultura: o uso da aya-
huasca como patrimônio cultural [Religion, politics and culture: The use of aya-
huasca as cultural heritage]. Paper presented at the 30th Brazilian Anthropology
Association Conference (RBA). João Pessoa.
Labate, B. C., & Goulart, S. L. (2019). A II Conferência Mundial da Ayahuasca:
novas configurações locais e globais [The II World Ayahuasca Conference: New
local and global configurations]. In B. C. Labate & S. Goulart (Eds.), O Uso de
Plantas Psicoativas nas Américas [The use of psychoactive plants in the Ameri-
cas] (pp. 301–325). Gramma/NEIP.
MacRae, E. (2010). The development of Brazilian public policies on the religious
use of ayahuasca. In B. C. Labate & E. MacRae (Eds.), Ayahuasca, ritual and
religion in Brazil. Equinox.
MacRae, E. (in press). Eu brilho na floresta [I shine in the forest]. Editora Yagé.
Moran, K. (2017, October 2). Is ayahuasca really disapearing? Chacruna Institute.
https://chacruna.net/ayahuasca-really-desappearing/
National Council on Drug Policies (CONAD). (2006). Ayahuasca Multidiscipli-
nary Working Group – MGW Ayahuasca – Final Report. Brasília, DF. https://
www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/GMT_CONAD_English.pdf
National Council for Drug Policy (CONAD). (2010). Resolution No.1, January
25, 2010. Brasília, DF. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/
Resolution_1_CONAD_2010.pdf
Rance, D. (2020). An ancient medicine in search of a novel legal paradigm [Doc-
toral dissertation]. University of Brasília.
Rondônia, Legislative Assembly. (2015). Lei Ordinária n.º 3.653, de 9 de novem-
bro de 2015. Institui a liberdade religiosa da hoasca no estado de Rondônia e
dá outras providências [Bill 3.653, of November 9, 2015. This bill institutes
the religious freedom of hoasca in the state of Rondônia and makes other
provisions]. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Lei-3653-
Rondonia-2015.pdf
Santos, F. L. (2018). “Índio não usa droga, ele usa medicina”: a criminalização da
ayahuasca indígena [“Indigenous Peoples don’t take drugs, they take medicine:”
The criminalization of Indigenous ayahuasca] [Master’s thesis]. Instituto do Pat-
rimônio Histórico e Artístico Nacional (IPHAN), Rio de Janeiro.
State Council of Environment, Science and Technology (CEMACT) and the State
Council of Forests (CFE). (2010). Resolução Conjunta CEMACT/CFE n.º 4,
de 20 de dezembro de 2010 [Joint Resolution CEMACT/CFE n. 4, Decem-
ber 20, 2010]. Acre. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/
Resolucao_CEMACT_CFE_N_004_20_Dez_2010.pdf.
Suárez Álvarez, C. (2019, August 7). Pieces of ayahuasca, a cash crop. Chacruna
Institute. https://chacruna.net/pieces-of-ayahuasca-a-cash-crop/
Suárez Álvarez, C. (2020). We are harvesting the ayahuasca vine at an alarming
rate. Kahpi.net. https://kahpi.net/harvesting-ayahuasca-exploitation/.
Thevenin, J. M. R. (2017). A natureza nos caminhos de ayahuasca: territoriali-
dade, arranjos institucionais e aspectos fitogeográficos de conservação florestal
na Amazônia (Rondônia/Brasil) [Nature on the paths of ayahuasca: Territorial-
ity, institutional arrangements, and phytogeographic aspects of forest conserva-
tion in the Amazon (Rondônia/Brazil)] [Doctoral dissertation]. São Paulo State
University (UNESP).
Tukano, D. (2019, February 14). The first Indigenous Ayahuasca Conference
(Yubaka Hayrá) in Acre demonstrates political, cultural, and spiritual resist-
ance. Chacruna Institute. https://chacruna.net/the-first-indigenous-ayahuasca-
conference-yubaka-hayra-in-acre-demonstrates-political-cultural-and-spiritual-
resistance/
10 Debates on the Legality
and Legitimacy of Yage in
Colombia
Alhena Caicedo Fernández
The current global expansion of psychoactive substance consumption—in

particular, those of plant origin traditionally used by indigenous groups—
opens the debate on the new conditions of legitimacy and legality to be
dealt with by their users in new contexts. The case of yage or ayahuasca, a
psychoactive drink used by many Amazonian peoples, provides evidence of
the accelerated extension of the field of consumption, from South America,
its birthplace, toward Europe, North America, Asia, and Australia. It also
allows us to examine the tensions that the new forms of use, new users,
and new contexts create with regard to the production of this psychoactive
decoction and the survival of the cultural practices that have sustained its
continuity among the Amazon’s Indigenous and non-Indigenous Peoples.
To examine the new forms in which yage is being used implies, on the one
hand, a consideration of the fact that when we speak of yage, we refer to both
the liana (Banisteriopsis caapi) and the drink produced by mixing it with
other plants and additives, including chagropanga (Dyplopterus cabrerana)
and chacruna (Psychotia viridis). This physical and biological dimension of
yage goes hand-in-hand with an anthropological and historical dimension.
In contrast to other contexts, where ayahuasca has only recently appeared,
here, we look at regions in which its ritual use is a long-standing practice,
and falls within a panoply of cultural systems. In this sense, it is important
to understand the networks of social relations that have constituted the
legitimacy of its uses, so as to recognize the implications of its insertion
within the dynamics of the market system. An approach to the political
economy of yage must recognize the situated nature of the practices and
the logic under which it has spread toward different uses and different con-
texts; first, within the national arena of the countries of the Amazon Basin,
and then, internationally. The analysis would be incomplete, also, if we
were to fail to consider the ecological dimension and the impact of the cur-
rent forms of exploitation of natural resources in this new economy.
The purpose of this chapter is to outline the current legislation that
applies to yage in Colombia from a perspective that considers this political
ecology. Our point of departure is to understand that the ritual use of yage
has historically been included within the framework of interethnic relations
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-11 177

178 Alhena Caicedo Fernández
between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Peoples; specifically, regions of
the Amazon Basin. These forms of relationships have been measured, at
least in the last 200 years, by Latin American national States in a slow
process of configuration.
Accordingly, to understand the legal situation of yage beyond reviewing
the current regulation, there exists the need for an in-depth examination of
the social and cultural senses and meanings that historically have rendered
the practice legitimate in the country, and that, in turn, today, guarantee its
forms of legality. In the Colombian case, we can see how the nation-State
is a central reference to understand the regime of meaning, which encom-
passes cultural practices such as the use of ayahuasca. Hence, despite hav-
ing social, political, and economic characteristics similar to those of other
countries in the region, in Colombia, ayahuasca has a particular meaning
linked to the populations that consume it and to the way in which the State
identifies this populations. What Rita Segato (2004) calls the “national con-
figuration of diversity” is precisely an analytical key to anthropologically
understand the historical depth of the production of difference, anchored
in the space-time of the nation and the State.
I propose a contextualization of the uses of yage in Colombia, and the
recent transformations of the field, in relation to its expansion toward new
contexts and the emergence of the new actors. I then present a number of
recent problematic cases that reveal the current tensions in relation to the
legitimacy and legality of the new uses. Following this, I outline the exist-
ing national and international legal frameworks that can be applied to yage.
Finally, I highlight a number of conclusions on the current threat it faces in
its process of expansion, and the defense and protection mechanisms that
may serve to preserve it.
Uses of Yage in Colombia

In Colombia, the use of yage is associated with the cultural traditions of
a number of indigenous communities of the East Tukano (Vaupés) and
the West Tukano (Siona, Cofanes, and Coreguajes), and the Inga and the
Kamëntsá linguistic families, widespread in the departments of Putumayo
and Caquetá in northwest Amazonian, which are currently the region and
the use of yage most widely recognized. Although the indigenous origin of
the practice is commonly accepted, the use of yage is not exclusive to the
indigenous. For the Indigenous and non-Indigenous Amazonian Peoples in
the Putumayo Caquetá region, the ritual use of yage is a common practice
used, above all, for two important purposes. The first involves specialized
yageceros, better known as curacas, who, as part of their training, must
consume different types of yage for years before being considered “taitas.”
The other is that it is used by these curacas as a “remedy” with which they
clean the body and cure certain types of disease and misfortune.
The arrival of yage in the cities of Colombia’s highlands is related to
the mass migration in the 1950s of poor populations from the jungles.
Debates on the Legality and Legitimacy of Yage in Colombia 179
However, the expansion of its use, as it is known today, began in the 1990s,
when certain intellectual and artist circles in the city became interested in
the “magical” practices of the Amazon’s Indigenous Peoples. In contrast to
previous decades, this interest caused many of them to travel to the jungle,
and meant that the most renowned curacas of the time were invited to the
city to host yage sessions. Colombia’s period of violence beginning in the
1990s in regions such as Putumayo meant that these parts of the country
were out-of-bounds to tourism. Thus, in contrast to parts of the Peruvian
and Ecuadorian Amazon that, around the same time, became a destina-
tion for foreigners interested in yage, in Colombia, the yagecero region of
Putumayo closed off to external influence as a result of the conflict. The
expansion of ritual use soon acquired an urban Andean character, at the
same time as it started to become established in middle-class sectors that it
had never before reached.
The elitization of the ritual use of yage, understood as its adaptation to
the urban middle class of cities such as Bogotá, Medellín, and Cali, did
not happen in a vacuum. Until only a short time before, yage and other
elements associated to the imaginary of the Amazonian Indians, were con-
sidered trickeries and popular beliefs of little value, or fetishes of backward
and pre-modern mentalities, when not reduced to savagery and demonic
witchcraft. In fact, the Indigenous Peoples had never enjoyed full citizen
rights and were under the guardianship of the Catholic Church. The 1980s
witnessed an intensification of the nation’s social discontent with respect
to the institutional crisis and violence. An enormous mobilization of social
sectors, among them the indigenous movement, and a peace process ini-
tiated with a number of guerrilla groups, led to a National Constituent
Assembly that gave rise to a new constitution. As part of a global movement
in which various countries enacted structural reforms, Colombia adopted
multiculturalism as a State policy in the Constitutional Charter of 1991.
From that moment on, the State recognized the cultural diversity of the
nation, supported the ethnic difference of indigenous communities, and
established a policy of differential rights for those peoples considered eth-
nic and culturally different.
The social value placed on the indigenous brought about by these trans-
formations served as a basis for the expansion of the use of yage over the
next 20 years. In Colombia, the national imaginary inevitably associates
yage with the indigenous. In other words, it is impossible to speak of this
psychoactive substance without making a diaphanous connection with the
historically constituted social representations of the “Amazon Indians” in
common sense. The negative moral burden of these representations, influ-
enced by Catholicism, began to shift toward a more positive pole, allowing
a practice previously stigmatized as “witchcraft” and popular charlatanism
to begin to be recognized as “knowledge” and part of a national cultural
heritage (Caicedo Fernández, 2015).
In Putumayo-Caquetá, the most extensive use of yage has been thera-
peutic; people look for a curaca to use the plant mixture to cure them from
disease and misfortune. With the arrival of the yagecero taitas to the cit-
ies, many urban enthusiasts began to join yage rituals within the context
of the same idea of seeking to be cured; a logic that has been positioned
as the authentic and legitimate way to use the sacred plant. This being the
case, it is important to mention that, in contrast to other regions of the
Amazon Basin, in Colombia, the legitimate way to use yage has been for
therapeutic purposes, taken in nightly yage sessions. Something entirely
different happens in Brazil, where the tradition of the historical relations
between the Indigenous and non-Indigenous had its own path of develop-
ment, and where use has extended and become legitimate, especially, in a
religious context, as adopted by the different ayahuasca churches, more
closely associated to the reinventions of the caboclo world than to the cus-
toms of the Indians (Feeney & Labate, 2012). This also differs from, for
example, in Iquitos, Peru, where the extended legitimate modality for yage
consumption involves “diets,”—a practice taken from the use of ayahuasca
as training for curacas—that has been simplified and standardized to serve
new audiences (Gearin & Labate, 2018; Suárez Alvarez, 2018).
Since they began to travel to the city, the indigenous yageceros have
positioned themselves as the legitimate representatives of an “ancestral tra-
dition” that, until then, the Colombian State had been unwilling to rec-
ognize. This association, far from being trivial, currently constitutes the
nucleus of its legitimacy and legality. How? With its arrival to the cities and
the expansion of the practice among the professional middle classes, ritual
use began to be associated to the concept of “traditional indigenous med-
icine.” Far from being an equivalent reference, this notion simplified the
use of the psychoactive substance and standardized it under the precept of
the understanding of Western medicine, at the same time, rapidly turning
it into a legible reference for the multiculturalist State. As a synecdoche of
traditional indigenous medicine, the use of yage became popular in many
cities at the beginning of the twenty-first century, and was soon available
on the alternative medicine market. Thus, despite there being no direct leg-
islation relating to yage, the legitimacy of its use is comprised as part of the
constitutional rights of the Indians to live by their culture, including their
medical systems. Legality, for its part, depends on the constitutional recog-
nition that the State offers to Indigenous cultures.
New Uses, New Actors1

Beyond national regulations, the legal use of yage is framed in another type
of legislation undersigned by Colombia within the international framework.
In principle, we have Agreement 169 of the International Labor Organiza-
tion (1989) that recognizes the rights of Indigenous and tribal Peoples, and
is currently the legal platform that supplements the constitutional recog-
nition of these communities. Nevertheless, the emphasis on the therapeu-
tic use and the progressive process of medicalization, which places yage
as “traditional indigenous medicine” in the alternative medicine market,
have been influenced by the World Heatlh Organization (WHO) and Pan
American Health Organization policy, focusing on the concept of tradi-
tional and alternative medicine (WHO, 2013; Garzón, 2018). These, in
turn, have guaranteed their inclusion in the legislation that currently regu-
lates health services.
Specialized yageceros have adapted their practice to suit the growing
urban middle-classes, looking to find new forms of well-being. In the city,
yage is offered regularly—always by a taita—in one-night sessions, organ-
ized in ritual spaces adapted to the required conditions.2 The new yagecero
taitas currently constitute an interface between tradition and innovation.
On the one hand, their training has been shorter and less intensive than the
traditional indigenous curacas, and they have adapted their language and
rituals to the new audiences. On the other hand, although they have con-
centrated in cities, their legitimacy depends on being able to demonstrate a
link with that which is considered indigenous tradition (Caicedo Fernán-
dez, 2015). That said, for the new consumers, yage has become a practice
recognized—not exempt of criticism—as just another within the enormous
panoply of alternative medicine therapies. That said, yage maintains its
strong spiritual meaning. To this extent, and although we can affirm that
the emphasis on the use of yage has involved the therapeutic dimension, the
truth is that the religious or spiritual component is obviously present among
the motivations of the new users and much more significantly so than
before. Thus, even though yage has been adapted to the city, its commercial
circulation has been partially restricted by the consumers themselves.
In recent years, thanks to the diminishing armed conflict in Putumayo,
international yagecero tourism has increased in cities such as Mocoa,
revealing how certain yage use modalities in the country are articulated to
international circuits of the spiritual market, connecting emblematic loca-
tions of Amazonian shamanic tourism, new forms of consumption, and
global flows, groups, and user networks. Although this international facet
of yage is not yet well known in the country, it has given rise to debate in
relation to national regulation, due to, among other reasons, the detention
of yagecero taitas abroad, a number of cases of deaths of foreigners in yage
sessions, and to conflicts that have emerged because of the support and
authority of specialists, a topic we will touch upon further on in this article
(Ayahuasca Defense Fund, 2022).
The main international legal framework that affects yage is the inclusion
of DMT, one of the chemical components included in the United Nations
Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Sub-
stances’ (1988) list of controlled substances, ratified in Colombia through
Law 67 of 1993. This has promoted the prohibition of the consumption
of ayahuasca in various countries. However, in Colombia, the regula-
tory clash is partially settled through constitutional recognition. Never-
theless, the new modalities of urban consumption begin to put pressure
on the multicultural approach to the recognition of the practice as exclu-
sively indigenous. Currently, the urban population—and not the Indian—
consumes half of the yage produced in Colombia that circulates outside of
the indigenous territories. The paradox of the new uses consists in the fact
that, despite gaining more ground and legitimacy among the Indigenous
and non-Indigenous Population, its legality depends on the differential pol-
icy and ethnic recognition of multiculturalism. For the same reason, the
indigenous yagecero communities have won acclaim in the field, position-
ing themselves as key political actors in its current reconfiguration. How-
ever, not only do they face the commodification of yage outwards, but the
social, economic, and political effects of this new economy also affect the
communities in different ways.
One of the responses of the indigenous organizations to the conditions
promoted by the expansion of yage was the development, at the beginning
of the 2000s, of the Union of Indigenous Yagé Medics of the Colombian
Amazon (UMIYAC) Medical Code of Ethics (2000), developed under the
guidance of the Amazon Conservation Team. The document established a
series of behavioral guidelines aimed at indigenous taitas to avoid corrupt-
ing the traditional forms of yage use vis-à-vis the growing commodification.
The UMIYAC was constituted as the main and most renowned association
of indigenous yageceros, and over the last 20 years, had to face a number of
crises due, among other things, to the difficulty of claiming to be an asso-
ciation that brings together the specialists of a practice that, by definition,
is more susceptible to conflict than it is to alliances (Caicedo Fernández,
2013). Nevertheless, within some indigenous communities, yage acquired
a renewed central value in the political decision-making of the traditional
authorities and in the relationships with external actors (Musalem, 2016).
The experience gained by the indigenous authorities over these years means
that, freed from its sources of funding, the UMIYAC has been consolidated
from the inside out, through the judicious work of a number of leaders that
have a sound understanding of the relationship between what is happening
with the use of yage at different scales, and the national and international
regulatory frameworks. Accordingly, the role of indigenous organizations
has become stronger, not only because they are key in the legitimation
of the current uses of yage, but also because their political interest lies in
defending the monopoly of yage production and the uses they consider cor-
rect as their own.
Following the Legitimacy of the New Uses

The legitimacy regime associated to the social representations of indige-
nous authenticity and its sanctioning by the State, currently encompass-
ing the urban offer of traditional medicine, have led to myriad strategies
focusing on the simulation and performance of Indianness by Indians and
non-Indians, and taitas and non-taitas, interested in taking part in this new
market. The number of new yagecero taitas who offer yage sessions and
travel perpetually throughout the country and abroad has grown expo-
nentially. Not all of these characters are taitas, nor have they followed the
training processes that taitas normally follow. Some belong to indigenous
communities, others do not; many are apprentices, followers of yageceros,
or regular users who travel and sell themselves as indigenous doctors. The
logic of shamanic power associated with yage has transformed notably
(Caicedo Fernández, 2018).
Three questions seem fundamental to guarantee a public: performativity,
including the colorful ritual paraphernalia; reference to, and the demon-
stration of, an association with one or more indigenous teachers of the
Putumayo; and the maintaining of a certain distance from the place of ori-
gin. Added to these strategies are certain mechanisms of official recognition
through certifications issued by different indigenous authorities recognized
by the Colombian State. Beyond whether we are talking about communi-
ties that use yage, these authorities use the power of official recognition to
vouch for traditional doctors through the legislation in force under agree-
ment 169 of the ILO and the Constitution. Official documents from local
authorities, such as diplomas, certificates, declarations, and cover letters—
although not systematically so—are used in different and creative ways to
legitimate the profession, to the extent that it is possible to validate them
before the institutions. The commodification generates a political use of the
recognition of traditional doctors and the consequent loss of references of a
real authority relating to the practice.
The weight of the symbolic reference of Indianness as the legitimator of
yage use in Colombia is, without doubt, exceptional. Some time ago, a rec-
ognized European therapist came to the country to host workshops that
included yage sessions framed within a novel proposal that sought to explore
new therapeutic uses for ayahuasca. They were well received in Bogotá’s
ayahuasca circles, but very few agreed to pay the price for the workshop,
which exceeded a normal yage session in the city by a ten to one ratio. The
experience was not pleasant for any of the participants, and they all mani-
fested their discontent with regard to how the sessions unfolded. Besides the
price, they eloquently complained about the therapist’s manners, language,
and how he treated them; not only did he manifest, in their understanding,
an unusual arrogance, “typical of Europeans,” but he openly disregarded
the rhythms and manner in which the ritual is carried out, and the way in
which a taita normally behaves toward the participants in a session. One of
the participants went as far as saying, “Now they come here from Europe,
thinking they can teach the taitas how to take yage! They charge three times
the normal price, and end up insulting the participants.” The anecdote is a
good illustration of the symbolic regimes of legitimacy enjoyed, in Colombia
currently, by Indianness in its relationship with ritual consumption.
A few years ago, I spent considerable time and energy in studying the
case of taita Orlando Gaitán and the effects of what I referred to as the
deregulation of the interface between new and traditional uses (Caicedo
Fernández, 2018). Gaitán, a new, self-proclaimed indigenous taita, was,
for a number of years, the leader of a corporation that provided alterna-
tive health services, including allopathic medicine and traditional yagecero
medicine, until 2012, when he was accused of sexual abuse by several of his
followers. According to allegations, Gaitán took advantage of his patients,
among other occasions, during the yage sessions and through alleged forms
of healing. This case reveals how the work of some new taitas is supported
by mechanisms of crossed legitimacy, between expert yagecero knowledge
and the expert knowledge of other medical systems that underpin each other
through the lack of regulation mechanisms that determine the adequate uses
of each type of medicine or alternative therapy3 (Caicedo Fernández, 2018).
The eclecticism, typical of the practice of new taitas, means that there
must be permanent forms of self-regulation that are, however, not always
fulfilled. The legal case of Gaitán has taken longer than usual and has
shown the lack of the judges’ competence to understand concepts such as
shamanism, the ritual use of yage, its hybridization in the urban sphere,
and the current vindications of the ethnic identity of those who were pre-
viously considered mestizos. At the same time, it reveals that the common
sense that stigmatizes yage as a drug is still standing. In Colombia, there
is no legal knowledge or any legislation on such topics, and much less so,
a tool that can help us to differentiate shamanism, religion, and medicine.
Similarly, it shows how, despite the yagecero field becoming more visible
and extended within the country and abroad, the curacas of the Amazon
Piedmont—recognized, until quite recently, as the legitimate authority over
yage—are, today, no longer considered so; nor do their descendants have
the sufficient authority, beyond their territorial jurisdiction, to say who is a
traditional yagecero doctor and who is not.
Despite the fact that the judicial process has not yet reached a conclusion,
the case demonstrates the State’s incapacity to determine whether Gaitán
is an indigenous doctor or not and whether the way in which he uses yage
is correct or not. This demonstrates the radical importance of the organ-
izations of multiethnic indigenous authorities, such as UMIYAC, ASMIC
(Asociación de Médicos Indígenas Cofánes), the highest authorities of the
Cofan people (Mesa de Autoridades del Pueblo Cofán), and Indigenous
Councils of other groups, constituted around the extended defense of yage
and its uses, with respect to its commodification and third-party interests
in profit.
Another representative case of the current problem is that of Alberto José
Varela, founder of the multinational emporium that comprises the compa-
nies Ayahuasca International, Ayahuasca Planet, Escuela Europea Ayahuas-
quera, and Inner Mastery S.L.U., dedicated to promoting therapeutic uses
of yage, shamanic tourism, and facilitator training. In recent years, Varela
extended his lucrative business around the world, legitimating the supposed
endorsement of reputed Colombian yagecero indigenous authorities, and
publishing an authorization allegedly signed by taita Querubín Queta, a
renowned Cofan elder, in which, according to Varela, the taita confers him
the authority to work with yage. In a communiqué released in May 2015,
the Cofan authorities, and Querubín himself, denied having granted such
an authorization. They denied having taught Varela or any of the members
of his companies how to use yage, or having given him the consent to trans-
port or administer it. The communiqué also included declarations by var-
ious international experts supporting the Cofan authorities (Jutte, 2016).
In 2016, the Cofan released another communiqué warning of members
of their own community who continued to take advantage of their ethnic
condition and their kinship to the taitas—including one of taita Querubín
Queta’s nephews—to distribute yage abroad, working in association with
Varela, and ignoring the elders’ authority. The letter calls on the interna-
tional community to be aware of the risk posed by the commercial use of
ayahuasca, mentioning Varela and Gaitán as examples. It also confirmed
the need to recognize the long and complex process involved in training the
taitas. The paradox of this case is that, despite the international visibility
of the case, the issue has not transcended legally within the country; there
are taitas that continue to work with Varela and his companies continue to
operate in Colombia.
To sum up, under the current conditions of yage expansion, we can iden-
tify types of risks that surround the psychoactive plant and its uses. One
of these is related to the loss of regulation mechanisms at different lev-
els that determine appropriate uses that reduce the effects that may place
people at risk and that penalize abuses. Another is related to the forms of
misappropriation and unauthorized use that, on the one hand, ignore the
mechanisms of regulation and authority in place until recently, and, on the
other, uncover national legal limitations. We can add, here, another type of
current risk: the acquisition of intellectual property rights by third parties
on traditional knowledge and its associated plant resources.
The Physical and Cultural Protection of Yage

US researcher Loren Miller’s attempt to patent yage in the 1980s was widely
publicized around the world. Miller, the owner of a small pharmaceutical
company in California, obtained the patent for yage from the US Patent and
Trademark Office (Log No. 5751 of June 17, 1986), under the argument
that it was a new variety that had not previously been described. It was not
until 1995 that the Indigenous Peoples of the Amazon found out about this
and—through the Coordinating Body for the Indigenous Peoples Organ-
izations of the Amazon Basin (COICA), in partnership with the Amazon
Alliance for Indigenous and Traditional Peoples of the Amazon Basin
and lawyers of the Center for International Environmental Law (CIEL)—
reported the case before the US Patent Office. The patent was revoked in
1999. Paradoxically, this did not happen because of the claims put forward
by the Indians, but rather, the confirmation that the University of Michigan
had, in fact, already registered the variety. Some time later, Miller appealed
and the patent was renewed in April 2001, without accepting the argu-
ments of the Indians (Zuluaga, 2016). Following the discussions that gave
rise to a technical scrutiny of the process, in 2003, the patent was defini-
tively revoked. The case became paradigmatic of the struggles of the Ama-
zonian indigenous organizations against bioprospecting and biopiracy, and
it has served to identify the risks pertaining to the legislation of US pat-
ents that could be implemented through Free Trade Agreements with South
American countries (Díaz-León, 2006).
In Colombia, the main regulatory developments for the protection of
plant species associated with traditional knowledge has been supported
by point “j” of Article 8 of the 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity,
adopted through Law 165 of 1994. The Article stipulates the State’s obli-
gation to protect the traditional knowledge pertinent to the conservation
and sustainable use of biological diversity. This legal framework is supple-
mented by other binding agreements, such as Andean Decision 391 of the
Andean Community of Nations on the protection of the biodiversity and
recognition of the cultural rights of Indigenous, Afro-American, and local
communities (ACN, 2017). This latter point is directly linked to the 2003
UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Herit-
age, and the 2005 UNESCO Convention on the Protection and Promotion
of the Diversity of Cultural Expressions, and in the Colombian legal frame-
work with the General Culture Act (Law 397 of 1997), which recognizes
the traditional knowledge of indigenous communities as intangible cultural
heritage (ICH).
Although yage has not been declared heritage in Colombia, ICH policy
has played a decisive role in the protection of traditional knowledge. The
purpose of processes of patrimonialization is for the State to protect rele-
vant and endangered cultural manifestations. Accordingly, the procedure
contemplates that it should be the bearers of the manifestation that propose
its patrimonialization. Once the institutions in charge diagnose and evalu-
ate, the State is obliged to build, together with the bearers, a safeguarding
plan that guarantees its continuity and minimizes the risk of its disap-
pearance. The patrimonialization policy has led to all kinds of polemic
in Colombia, as it indirectly promotes the homogenization and standardi-
zation of cultural manifestations and, in many cases, has incentivized the
economic value and commercial use of the very thing it is supposed to safe-
guard (Caicedo Fernández, 2014). However, it is an interesting and useful
tool to shed light on the cultural elements and practices that, today, are at
risk, and the responsibility of the State in such terms.
Would its heritagization be a suitable alternative for the protection of
yage in Colombia? To answer this question, we would have to consider that
there first has to be an indigenous community or peoples that request its
protection, and this has not yet happened. The community that manages
the initiative would be the one to declare itself as the bearer. This, of course,
is problematic, as what we are dealing with is a cultural manifestation that
pertains to several communities and peoples that, in many cases, are not
organizationally articulated. Even so, a viable option would be for patri-
monialization to be requested by organizations that can legitimately repre-
sent the diversity of Indigenous Peoples who belong to the so-called “yage
culture,” such as the UMIYAC. Nevertheless, this option would exclude
the non-indigenous uses of yage, and, very likely, the new uses associated
with urban contexts, from the heritagized recognition. Even so, an obvious
advantage of such a declaration would be the possibility to change the rec-
ognition as intangible heritage to tangible heritage, and, thereby, protect
the knowledge, forms of use, and the territory associated with yage.
The development of the legislation has, so far, led to two great achieve-
ments in relation to recognition. In 2010, the traditional knowledge of the
jaguar shamans of Yuruparí (Hee Yaia Keti Oka)—including their initia-
tion rituals (ritual de Yuruparí)—of several East Tucano peoples of Vaupés
were included in the List of the Intangible Heritage of Nations, and, in
2011, considered by United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
Organization (UNESCO) as Cultural Heritage of Humanity (UNESCO,
2011). Yage is one of the sacred plants included in these rituals and knowl-
edge, which would indicate an indirect recognition as heritage. Similar to
this case, there are, today, initiatives that seek to obtain heritage status not
for yage, but rather, the traditional medical systems of Indigenous Peoples
such as the Inga of Putumayo. None of these requests have, however, been
formalized.
The other case is the formation, in 2008, of Santuario de Flora Plan-
tas Medicinales Orito Ingi Ande, through Resolution 994 of the Minis-
try of the Environment (República de Colombia, Ministerio de Ambiente,
Vivienda y Desarrollo Territorial, 2008). An area of over 10,204 hectares
in the Amazon Piedmont was declared a reservation area with the funda-
mental purpose of protecting the biodiversity associated with the knowl-
edge of the ethnic groups that make up the “yage culture.”
The explicit recognition of an inextricable relationship between the bio-
logical and cultural dimensions of yagecero peoples marks an important
legal precedent for the formalization of initiatives aimed at protecting yage,
considering that this is inherent to the recognition and protection of the
territories belonging to indigenous communities. This point is fundamental
if we consider the current problem relating to most yagecero communi-
ties, especially those that are settled in the lowlands, such as the Cofanes,
Coreguajes, and Siona, declared in danger of extinction by the Colombian
Constitutional Court in 2009.4 Although these groups have been histori-
cally threatened since the expansion of the rubber regime and the missions,
beginning in the 1960s, the arrival of oil companies, followed by the exten-
sion of illicit coca crops, armed conflict, and fumigation using glyphosate
as part of Plan Colombia, 5 decimated the population and provoked their
forced displacement, confinement, and loss of territory (Los guardianes
del yagé confinados por la violencia [The guardians of yagé confined by
violence], 2018). In this context, yage has become a mechanism for inter-
nal organizational consolidation for the peoples of the lowlands of Putu-
mayo-Caquetá, as well as a reference of the outward visibilization in its
struggle to defend their lives and the territories that they have historically
occupied.
That said, although patrimonialization is useful in many ways, what
is certain is that its main limitation is the national nature of its jurisdic-
tion. The risks currently derived from, and the misappropriation of, tra-
ditional knowledge is associated with the regime of intellectual property
rights regulated internationally by WIPO, in charge of establishing the
legal frameworks for the ownership of patents, brands, and industrial
designs of countries belonging to the UN. Surrounding intellectual prop-
erty rights, and its particular and restrictive conception of property, several
so-called Third World countries have given rise to important debates within
the WIPO Intergovernmental Committee on Intellectual Property and
Traditional Knowledge, Traditional Cultural Expressions, and Genetic
Resources (WIPO, 2018). Despite the fact that various nations have devel-
oped their own legislation, for several years now, the committee has been
negotiating the establishment of an international legal instrument. The
position of the Colombian State, despite the conflicts of interest within the
State institutions, has been one that relates to the idea of the collective
property rights of State institutions, and to the idea of collective property
rights as a necessary concept to qualify the existing legislation. Accord-
ingly, the American Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples,
recently approved by the Organization of American States (OAS), has made
important progress in this respect by recognizing the rights of such peo-
ples to collective intellectual property that comprises, among other things,
traditional knowledge associated with genetic resources, ancestral designs
and procedures, and cultural, artistic, spiritual, technological, and scien-
tific manifestations of tangible and intangible heritage, as well as biodiver-
sity-related developments (Art XXVIII) (OAS, 2016).
A Few Final Reflections

In Colombia, yage is closely linked to the matrix of representations of Indi-
anness pertaining to the historically constituted national configuration
of diversity. The forms of legitimacy of its uses—known and new—have
always depended on its symbolic association to this referent. With the
introduction of multiculturalism as State policy in the 1990s, the weight of
these representations achieved a certain level of institutionalization, leading
to the fact that, currently, yage is tied to social representations of Indian
diversity, and to the legislative framework that legitimizes cultural differ-
ence and that, somehow, also legalizes it.
In recent decades, the urbanization and elitization of the practice has
led to a more or less novel field of uses that currently seeks mechanisms
of legitimation and legalization. Thus, the consolidation of the therapeu-
tic nature of ritual consumption, its medicalization, and the positioning
of traditional indigenous medicine, among the array of alternative health
therapies available, complements its new facet as a spiritual practice of the
urban public. In parallel, the commercialization of the practice has gener-
ated an economic alternative for certain sectors, indigenous or not, that
take advantage of this condition to promote themselves as yagecero doctors
in Colombia’s cities and abroad, making intensive use of the imaginaries of
the Amazon Indians, and of the official mechanisms of recognition.
International legislation on ayahuasca tends to be restrictive as part of
the control of psychotropic substances, whereas the national arena hosts a
diversity of frameworks that cover legality and legitimacy. At the national
level, the deregulation of the traditional yagecero field is demonstrated by
the erosion of regimes of legitimacy, new forms of cross-legitimacy, and
the lack of effective mechanisms that guarantee the self-regulation of those
who work with yage. Among other things, the cases of sexual abuse dur-
ing yage sessions are currently a reiterated and complex problem, requiring
comprehensive scale management, viable mechanisms of care and protec-
tion, and additional forms of healing.
Another type of threat is the misappropriation, by third parties with
lucrative ends, of usage rights over yage-associated knowledge and prac-
tices. If yage is to avoid succumbing to the effects of its commercialization,
this is, to a great extent, dependent on the recognition of the traditional
knowledge of the local Amazonian communities, including, in particu-
lar, the indigenous community. Accordingly, protection from attempts to
appropriate intellectual property rights, as well as the control and regula-
tion of the commercial use of such knowledge, is currently impossible with-
out direct State intervention in articulation with international legislations.
In the case of countries that constitute the Amazon Basin, these legislations
must consider the different forms of traditional knowledge under their pro-
tection, including those that are not indigenous or of a religious or thera-
peutic nature that have been developed locally.
In Colombia, to protect yage is equivalent to protecting Indigenous Peo-
ples, their territories, and their traditional knowledge. This should not be
construed as a disregard for the new uses and scenarios, but rather, consid-
ering the deep-rooted inequalities applying to Amazonian populations, a
certain guarantee against the harmful effects of the new political economy
that is touching yage, and the complex system of botanical and ecological
knowledge of which it is part. Innovation in the globalized yagecero field
has direct and indirect effects on these communities and, in particular,
on indigenous people. The mechanisms of informed consent help to facili-
tate this and allow the public exploitation of such knowledge; recognizing
this can help us rethink the forms of access to, and participation of the
Amazonian communities in, the benefits derived from the innovations pro-
duced from the use of yage.
Today, it is evident that broad legislation exists to protect yage knowl-
edge as intangible heritage. However, regulations are not always going to
be able to counteract the threats derived from the insertion of knowledge
and cultural practices into market logics and from the global economy. The
current situation deserves a reconsideration of the ways in which the legit-
imacy of the different uses is constituted, and the value of the preservation
of their heterogeneity, their practices, and associated forms of knowledge.
Accordingly, to defend yage requires the knowledge that it is not just about
defending a set of plant species or a varied universe of cultural traditions or
populational groups in danger of extinction. Following the meaning given
to it by the indigenous and non-indigenous yagecero communities, yage is
not a mere plant or mere intangible knowledge. It is, above all, a subject
that is able to bring together different dimensions, a liana whose power to
entangle binds spheres, apparently disconnected from a Western perspec-
tive, between the natural world and the ecology of human life, crossing
planes that many consider sacred. Its ability to generate transgressive epis-
temological models is just beginning to be explored, but the alternatives
given by populations that understand a lot about this continuous nature
of yage as a liana-subject, are, today, at risk of extinction. This being the
case, the recognition of yage as a necessary subject for the reproduction of
Amazonian life goes far beyond a simple metaphor. This is why the initi-
atives of countries such as Bolivia and Ecuador are so significant. Both
have constitutionally recognized Amazonian peoples and nature as legal
subjects. Perhaps those of us, based within different fields and disciplines,
whose work focuses on ayahuasca, should seek to demonstrate that yage is,
of course, not only a subject of intellectual and cultural interest, but also a
legal subject, deserving of rights and protection.
Notes
1 I want to thank David Curtidor and María José Almarales for their help in
reviewing the current state of the legislation on traditional indigenous knowl-
edge in Colombia.
2 The denomination taita is used regularly to refer to yagecero teachers. Of Que-
cha origin, the term also refers to the masculine authorities, fathers, and elders
among various indigenous groups of southwest Colombia.
3 In January 2021, Orlando Gaitan was sentenced by a judge to 19 years in prison
for sexual abuse.
4 The Colombian Constitutional Court, though Order 004, declared 34 of the
country’s Indigenous Peoples under threat of extinction due to the armed con-
flict and other threats. This measure obliges the State to create safeguarding
policies that guarantee the survival of these communities.
5 Plan Colombia is the bilateral agreement between the US and the Colombian
government, signed in 1999, to end the armed conflict and destroy illicit drug
crops. Between 2000 and 2007, Plan Colombia received an approximate sum
of 4.9 billion dollars from the US government.
References
Andean Community of Nations. (2017). Decisiones Andinas en Propiedad Intelec-
tual [Andean decisions on intellectual property]. Secretaría General de la Comuni-
dad Andina. http://www.comunidadandina.org/StaticFiles/201761102019%20
en%20Propiedad%20Intelectual.pdf
Ayahuasca Defense Fund. (2022). National Legal Status. International Center for
Ethnobotanical Education Research and Service (ICEERS). https://www.iceers.
org/ayahuasca-legal-status/
Caicedo Fernández, A. (2010). El uso ritual de yajé: patrimonializacióny consumo
en debate [The ritual use of yaje: Patrimonialization and consumption in debate].
Revista Colombiana de Antropología, 46(1), 63–86.
Caicedo Fernández, A. (2014) Tiempo de florecer. Medicalización del yajé y usos
sociales del patrimonio [Time to bloom: Medicalization of yaje and social uses
of heritage]. In M. Chaves, M. Montenegro, & M. Zambrano (Eds.), El valor del
patrimonio. Mercado, políticas culturales y agenciamientos sociales [The value of
heritage: Market, cultural policies, and social agencies] (pp. 519–547). Instituto
Colombiano de Antropología e Historia.
Caicedo Fernández, A. (2015). La alteridad radical que cura. Neochamanismos
yajeceros in Colombia [The radical otherness that heals: Yajeceros neoshaman-
isms in Colombia]. Universidad de los Andes.
Caicedo Fernández, A. (2018). Power and legitimacy in the reconfiguration of
yagecero field in Colombia. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), The expand-
ing world ayahuasca diaspora: Appropriation, integration and legislation
(pp. 199–216). Routledge.
Díaz-León, G. L. (2006). Nuestro Yajé… ¿tu “Da Vine”? Elementos económicos,
culturales y legales del debate alrededor de la Propiedad Intelectual sobre los
Saberes Tradicionales [Our yajé… your “da vine”? Economic, cultural, and legal
elements of the debate around intellectual property on traditional knowledge
(Unpublished doctoral dissertation). Universidad Nacional de Colombia. https://
www.researchgate.net/publication/231222216_NUESTRO_YAJE _TU_DA_
VINEElementos_economicos_culturales_y_legales_del_debate_alrededor_de_
la_Propiedad_Intelectual_sobre_los_Saberes_Tradicionales
Feeney, K., & Labate, B. C. (2012). Ayahuasca and the process of regulation in
Brazil and internationally: Implications and challenges. International Journal
of Drug Policy, 23(2), 154–161. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2011.06.006
Garzón, O. A. (2018). Medicina tradicional, alternativa y terapias no convencion-
ales en el mercado terapéutico urbano [Traditional, alternative medicine and
unconventional therapies in the urban therapeutic market] (Unpublished doc-
toral dissertation). Universidad Nacional de Colombia.
Gearin, A. K., & Labate, B. C. (2018). La dieta: Ayahuasca and the Western
reinvention on Indigenous Amazonian food shamanism. In B. C. Labate & C.
Cavnar (Eds.), The expanding world ayahuasca diaspora: Appropriation, inte-
gration and legislation (pp. 177–198). Routledge.
International Labor Organization (ILO). (1989). Indigenous and Tribal Peo-
ples Convention, 1989 (Nº 169). https://www.ilo.org/dyn/normlex/fr/f?p=
NORMLEXPUB:12100:0::NO::P12100_ILO_CODE:C169
Jutte, M. (2016). Curaca Cofán en aprietos. Sobre la controversia entre los indígenas
Cofán y Alberto Varela (Ayahuasca International) [Curaca Cofán in trouble: On
the controversy between the Indigenous Cofán and Alberto Varela (Ayahuasca
International)]. Neip. https://neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/Jütte_
Indigenas_Cofan_Alberto_Varela_University_Marburg_20016.pdf
Los guardianes del yagé confinados por la violencia [The guardians of yagé
confined by violence]. (2018, May 5). Diario El Espectador. https://www.
elespectador.com/noticias/judicial/los-guardianes-del-yage-confinados-por-la-
violencia-articulo-754137
Musalem, P. (2016). Xamanismo, memória e identidade: Transformações e
continuidades nos processos políticos dos siona no Putumayo, Colômbia
[Shamanism, memory, and identity: Transformations and continuities in the
political processes of the Siona in Putumayo, Colombia] (Unpublished doctoral
thesis). Universidade Federal de Santa Catarina. https://repositorio.ufsc.br/
handle/123456789/173029
Organization of American States (OAS). (2016, June 15). American declaration on
the right of the Indigenous peoples AG/RES.2888 (XLVI-O/16). http://www.oas.
org/en/sare/documents/DecAmIND.pdf
República de Colombia, Ministerio de Ambiente, Vivienda y Desarrollo Territorial.
(2008, June 16). Resolución 0994: Por medio de la cual se declara, reserva y
alindera el santuario de Flora “Plantas medicinales Orito- Ingi Ande [By means
of which the sanctuary of Flora “Medicinal Plants Orito-Ingi Ande” is declared,
reserved, and bordered]. http://www.parquesnacionales.gov.co/portal/wp-
content/uploads/2013/12/ORITO.pdf
Segato, R. (2004). La nación y sus otros. Raza, etnicidad y diversidad religiosa en
tiempos de políticas de la identidad [The nation and its others: Race, ethnicity,
and religious diversity in times of identity politics]. Prometeo.
Suárez Álvarez, C. (2018). Ayahuasca entre dos mundos [Ayahuasca between two
worlds]. Libros del Mono Blanco.
Union of Indigenous Yagé Medics of the Colombian Amazon (UMIYAC). (2000).
El Pensamiento de los mayores. Código de ética de la medicina indígena del
Amazon piedmont colombiano [The thought of the elders: Code of ethics of
the Indigenous medicine of the Colombian Amazon Piedmont]. http://www.
bialabate.net/pdf/laws/el_pensamiento.pdf
United Nations Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psycho-
tropic Substances’. (1988). https://www.unodc.org/pdf/convention_1988_en.pdf
United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).
(2011). Traditional knowledge of the jaguar shamans of Yuruparí. Intangible
cultural heritage. https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/traditional-knowledge-of-the-
jaguar-shamans-of-yurupari-00574?RL=00574
World Health Organization (WHO). (2013). Traditional medicine strategy 2014–
2023. https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/9789241506096
World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO). (2018). Traditional knowledge.
http://www.wipo.int/tk/en/tk/index.html
Zuluaga, G. (2013). Una ética para la investigación médica con comunidades indí-
genas [An ethics for medical research with Indigenous communities]. In A. Vélez,
A. Ruiz, & M. Torres (Eds.), Retos y dilemas de los comités de ética en investi-
gación [Challenges and dilemmas of research ethics committees] (pp. 259–228).
Editorial Universidad del Rosario.
11 Ayahuasca in Uruguay
Legal Aspects and Public
Debates on Drugs and Religion
Juan Scuro, Ismael Apud and
Sebastián Torterola
Introduction
As in other countries, ayahuasca reached Uruguay in the last decades
through different religious and spiritual traditions related to transnational
networks, and within an increasing globalized context. Although its arrival
caused little public impact, there have been some discussions on ayahuas-
ca’s legality, as well as debates on the use and effects of the brew on the
media. This article describes and analyzes a series of ayahuasca-related
controversies taken place in Uruguay, in the spheres of both the law and
mass media.
The first section, “A new spiritual landscape,” describes the Uruguayan
context; namely, the secular nature of the Uruguayan modern State and
the historical period of the 1980s (the end of dictatorship and beginning of
globalization), when different religious-spiritual movements appear in the
country. The second section, “Ayahuasca in Uruguay,” describes the arrival
of groups and traditions that use ayahuasca, and refers to national drug
regulations and ayahuasca’s legal situation. The section “The Case of Santo
Daime Confiscation” targets a specific problem related to the confiscation
of several liters of ayahuasca at the Brazilian border, which adds Uruguay
to a list of international cases of legal actions having been brought around
ayahuasca confiscation. The next section, “Ayahuasca Controversies in the
Mass Media,” presents characterizations disseminated by local TV shows
and newspapers against ayahuasca groups, as being “dangerous religious
cults” that use “drugs” to recruit followers. “The case of Ayahuasca Inter-
national” explains how the “first ayahuasca corporation” arrived in the
country, and analyzes legal actions that were brought against it. The “Dis-
cussion” section explores, on the one hand, the relations between the State
and the ayahuasca groups in terms of drug policies and religious matters;
and, on the other hand, the treatment given to ayahuasca uses in the mass
media, combining cultural imaginaries of “drugs” and “cults.” To con-
clude, the article proposes that, even though the current Uruguayan con-
text is favorable for the ayahuasca groups to conduct their practices, the
relevance of these issues and their increasing public visibility require more
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-12 193

194 Juan Scuro et al.
discussions for future planning of explicit institutional conditions that can
guarantee the free and safe development of religious, therapeutic, and sci-
entific uses of ayahuasca.
A New Spiritual Landscape

There is a wide academic consensus around the fact that Uruguay is defined
by a sort of radical laicism, which is a result of a strong secularization
process that is understood, at least from a historical perspective, as having
a strong Jacobin influence. For the historical period of the modern State’s
foundation (the last quarter of the nineteenth century and first two dec-
ades of the twentieth), Uruguayan historian Gerardo Caetano refers to a
process of “naturalization of a radical vision of laicism” (2013, p. 118).
He says “radical” for two main reasons: first, due to an “institutional
marginalization of religious issues and their gradual rooting in the private
sphere” (p. 118); and second, for the adoption of “official attitudes that
were strongly critical of hegemonic institutional religion (in this case, the
Catholic Church), tied to ‘a transference of sacrality from religion to pol-
itics,’ which led to the formation of a sort of ‘civil religion’” (Caetano,
2013, p. 118). These aspects, the historian states, became central for the
Uruguayan secularization process. Caetano also uses the typology devel-
oped by Micheline Milot on laicism (separatist, anti-clerical, authoritarian,
civil faith-oriented, and recognition-oriented) to argue that “the classical
laicism model in the case of the Uruguayan history would be a combination
of the prototypes ‘separatist,’ ‘anticlerical,’ and ‘civic faith-oriented,’” (p.
120) (Translations by the authors).
Meanwhile, Uruguayan sociologist Néstor da Costa (2009) organizes the
postures on laicism in Uruguay in three categories: an intransigent position,
a plural position, and a third position of denial. He also affirms that, in
Uruguay, “the shift of radical religious matters to the private sphere created
a sort of civil religion of the State” (Da Costa, 2009, p. 152).
Finally, it could also be said that the Uruguayan modern state was formed
based on a “republican” secularism type, following the typology proposed
by Maclure and Taylor (2011), in which they formulate two ideal secularism
models or types: “republican” and “liberal-pluralist.” In fact, the “republi-
can” type would also include a “fetishism for the means”; that is, a certain
confusion between secularism’s ends (“respect for the equal moral value
of citizens and the protection of freedom of conscience”) and its means
(“the separation of church and state and the state’s religious neutrality”)
(Maclure & Taylor, 2011, p. 44). As a consequence of such fetishism, along
the construction of the Uruguayan modern state, religions were segregated
from public spaces. Symbols, rituals, and practices were accepted only in
private places, such as in churches and in the homes of devotees.
The current situation is more heterogeneous and the display of religious
symbols and practices in public spaces has become increasingly tolerated.
Ayahuasca in Uruguay 195
With the end of the dictatorship (1973–1985) and the return of democracy
in the 1980s, Uruguayan culture started to re-signify its own identity. Reli-
gions that earlier were considered as superstitions now offered symbols and
icons to a population in need of new cultural ways of “being Uruguayan.”
Good examples of this are the papal cross built in one of the most impor-
tant avenues of Montevideo, or the statue of Iemanjá (the sea goddess in
Afro-Brazilian religions) erected in one of its most popular beaches. As
pointed out by Casanova (2006), this process of de-privatization of reli-
gions and the subsequent return to the public arena is a regional and global
trend. As analyzed both by Caetano (2013) and Da Costa (2008), Uruguay
is not an exception; therefore, this new context leads to a revision of the
national thesis of radical secularization.
At the same time, new religious movements arrive in the country under
the impulse of globalization and transnational markets of spirituality.
The so-called New Age Networks (Hanegraaff, 1996), sometimes also
referred as psycho-mystic spiritualities (Champion, 1995), become popu-
lar in this period, mainly among the middle and upper classes interested
in new spiritual and existential alternatives. As in other countries, there
was a growing interest in self-help literature, holistic therapies, Oriental
spiritual techniques (e.g., yoga, meditation), and neo-shamanic healing and
self-knowledge practices (Menéndez, 1997; Apud, 2013a; Scuro, 2016). It is
in this new context that different ayahuasca centers and institutions appear
in the country.
Ayahuasca in Uruguay
The first ayahuasca groups appeared in Uruguay in the 1990s, a decade
when the brew became internationally popular. The first group, based on
the Brazilian religion, Santo Daime, started conducting ceremonies in Uru-
guay in 1991, and their members then founded their own church, called
Céu de Luz (Sky of Light), in 1996. In 2002, the church was recognized as
a non-governmental organization by the Uruguayan Ministry of Education
and Culture, and finally, in 2006, it was officially recognized by the offi-
cial Brazilian Santo Daime, ICEFLU (then, CEFLURIS) (Sánchez Petrone,
2006; Scuro, 2012a; Scuro, 2012b).
In the same decade, different neo-shamanic ayahuasca centers appeared.
For instance, the Uruguayan branch of the neo-shamanic organization
Camino Rojo (Red Path) was created in 1994, with the arrival of Aurelio
Díaz Tekpankalli, the authority and leader of the international organiza-
tion Fuego Sagrado de Itzachilatlan (Sacred Fire of Itzachilatlan). Later
on, there was a rupture between the Uruguayan center and Tekpankalli’s
organization, after which the Uruguayan Camino Rojo continued to work
autonomously (Apud, 2013b; Scuro, 2016; Scuro et al., 2018). Some of
their members are gestalt psychologists who combine a psycho-therapeutic
approach with a neo-indigenous worldview. Another example is Ayariri, a
holistic center of alternative therapies working with varied healing practices
such as yoga, holotropic breath work, Chinese medicine, and, since the
late 1990s, ayahuasca sessions in a Peruvian-style shamanic setting (Apud,
2013a, 2015). Since then, neo-shamanic rituals, Indigenous spiritual paths,
and psychedelic therapeutic uses have become increasingly popular among
middle and upper classes, and other ayahuasca groups have emerged, such
as Sol de la Nueva Aurora (Sun of the New Dawn), En Camino (In the
Path), and Ayahuasca International, among others. Lastly, psychologists,
physicians, and other healthcare professionals often use the brew and other
sacred plants as additional resources in their treatments.
As it happened in other countries (see Labate & Jungaberle, 2011), the
arrival of ayahuasca resulted in different legal, moral, and ethical debates
in the country. Uruguay is a signatory of the United Nations 1971 Conven-
tion on Psychotropic Substances. In order to comply with its obligations,
the country passed the law n. 14.294 of 1974, which was, in turn, mod-
ified by law n. 17.016 of 1998, currently in force. Whereas the law does
not penalize the consumption and possession of drugs for personal use, it
prohibits drug trafficking, sales, and distribution. However, the maximum
quantity of a controlled substance allowed for personal use is not clearly
defined, and it depends on the interpretation of the judges.
Furthermore, over the past few years, new policies were developed that
introduced specific regulations of tobacco, alcohol, and cannabis. For
instance, in 2006, smoking became prohibited in public spaces, and other
severe measures were implemented against tobacco. As a consequence,
Phillip Morris, the multinational tobacco company, brought legal actions
against the Uruguayan state, but the resolution by the UN International
Court favored Uruguay. Finally, a milestone Uruguayan drug rule that reg-
ulates recreational, medical, and industrial uses of cannabis through state
institutions, law n. 19.172, was passed in 2013.
However, Uruguay lacks specific regulations around ayahuasca. The
1971 Convention typifies N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT) as a Schedule I
controlled substance, but that does not apply to ayahuasca as a plant con-
coction (International Narcotics Control Board [INCB], 2013). Thus, each
country has its own specific legislation on the subject, with cases of express
prohibition (as in France), authorization of religious use (Brazil, Canada,
the US), and recognition as cultural patrimony (Peru), among others. In the
case of Uruguay, the legal situation of the brew remains unresolved, and
ayahuasca centers and institutions conduct their rituals within an infor-
mal network that does not seem to be of major concern for the authorities
(Scuro & Apud, 2015). The particular case of ayahuasca, where a specific
chemical substance (N,N-dimethyltryptamine [DMT]) is prohibited, while
a brew containing DMT is not, shows to what extent the international reg-
ulations on drugs can be ambiguous and contradictory.
The Case of Santo Daime Confiscation
On November 14, 2009, a Brazilian citizen traveling from the city of Porto
Alegre, Brazil, entered Uruguay through the city of Chuy, carrying 40 liters
of ayahuasca. The person was able to continue his way to Montevideo, but
the ayahuasca was held at the border. A preliminary report by the Cus-
toms Office, issued a few days after the confiscation, affirms that the liquid
“contains hallucinogenic substances,” and that more studies were expected
to be performed to evaluate it. On December 22, the Civil Association,
Centro de Iluminación Cristiana José Gonçalves (Center for Christian
Illumination José Gonçalves, the corporate name under which the Daime
community is registered in the local Ministry of Education and Culture),
requested the brew to be returned under several articles of Uruguay’s Con-
stitution, especially Art. n.5, which guarantees freedom of religion within
the Uruguayan territory.
Meanwhile, the final report of the Instituto Técnico Forense (Forensic
Technical Institute) found DMT, harmine, and harmaline in the confis-
cated liquid. Based on these elements and under law n. 14.294, the state
attorney claimed that introducing the substance in the country was illegal.
Although the report acknowledges the freedom of religion guaranteed
by Art. n. 5 of the Constitution, it argues that the methods used should be
legal and shouldn’t threaten the public health of the participants.
Afterwards, the case was sent to the Ministry of Public Health, where
another report was issued by the Sector of Psychopharmaceuticals, Nar-
cotics, Precursors, and Chemical Products. A part of the Department of
Medications of Uruguay’s Ministry of Public Health, this sector consulted
the Agência Nacional de Vigilância Sanitária (National Agency of Sanitary
Surveillance [ANVISA]), a Brazilian autonomous regulation entity, regard-
ing ayahuasca’s legality and the possibilities for its importation. ANVISA
was requested to provide the Brazilian regulation under which ayahuasca
exportation would be explicitly prohibited. ANVISA’s answer to the Uru-
guayan request affirms that such regulation is not very well defined, and
then referred to two rules of different orders that should be considered to
reach a conclusion: (a) resolution n.5 of 2004 of the Conselho Nacional
de Políticas Sobre Drogas (National Council of Drug-Related Policies
[CONAD]); and (b) article n. 32 of the UN Convention on Psychotropic
Substances of 1971. This article establishes the conditions in which states
can make exceptions to control in the cases of plants that, while contain-
ing the active principles included in the lists, naturally grow within the
territory and are traditionally used by specific groups. The same article
concludes that the lack of control should not be applied to international
commerce dispositions. In any case, Brazil didn’t request that ayahuasca
be considered as an exception under such article (Labate, 2011). Based on
this documentation, ANVISA understood that it was not possible to export
ayahuasca. And, based on ANVISA’s answer, the Uruguayan Ministry of
Health decided that it was not possible to import ayahuasca and archived
the case in 2012.
In the context of international ayahuasca expansion—and legitimiza-
tion achieved by churches in some countries where ayahuasca importation
and religious use is allowed—the new aspect introduced by the Uruguayan
case is the arguments used by the Uruguayan Ministry of Public Health.
Instead of referring to a possible risk for public health, as mentioned by the
state attorney, the Ministry based its decision on the fact that the Brazilian
legislation does not allow ayahuasca exportation. However, it should be
remembered that, in countries like the US, legal ayahuasca importation
from Brazil has been expressly authorized for religious use, as shown by
the União do Vegetal (UDV)-Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agreement
(Labate, 2012). Thus, there are evident contradictions in the resolutions
respectively adopted in the cases of the US and Uruguay.
It could be said that, in the US and Canada, the interested parties (insti-
tutions and individuals) were more proactive; mobilization led them to
bring legal actions that succeeded in supporting their interests. As a result,
ayahuasca importation from Brazil under specific conditions was approved
by court resolution, which could also be a possibility in the Uruguayan
case. The lack of mobilization of the ayahuasca groups in Uruguay may
have been the cause of the Ministry’s final decision of prohibition, even
considering the evident legal contradictions and international precedents
that could have been explored by the interested parties.
Ayahuasca Controversies in the Mass Media

In the last decade, ayahuasca religious and spiritual groups were the source
of debates in the media that combined two problematic semantic fields:
“drugs” and “dangerous religious cults” (Scuro et al., 2013). One of the
most relevant public controversies took place after an article was published
in El País, the country’s most popular newspaper, on September 16, 2006.
The journalist, César Bianchi, narrated his personal experience with aya-
huasca in the Santo Daime church in Montevideo. He described a bad trip
in which he saw “the Devil” and felt he wanted to commit suicide. In 2009,
Bianchi repeated his story on broadcast network Channel 10. The show
also featured Alejandro Corchs, a member of Camino Rojo, who lost his
parents through enforced disappearance during the dictatorship. Corchs
is known for his many books on the subject that combine his personal
story with spiritual reflections and existential poetry. In the TV show,
he talked about his adolescence and how he began a spiritual quest that
led him to know ayahuasca, finding love and forgiveness in his particular
process of healing. These two opposing experiences related to ayahuasca
were presented in a dramatic style, allowing the viewers to reach their own
conclusions.
Years later, on May 30, 2012, a new controversy came to light on TV
again. Once again, César Bianchi told his experience with Santo Daime.
Then, TV host Ignacio Álvarez showed a video of his own experience with
ayahuasca, which had occurred years before, in the Colombian Putumayo.
The video edition included dramatic music and confusing images that cre-
ated an atmosphere of danger, mystery, terror, and chaos.
Afterwards, the show presented the testimony of the father of a former
member of the Uruguayan Santo Daime church who committed suicide in
2010. Although the circumstances of this suicide are still not clear, the
father stated that ayahuasca was the cause of his son’s death. “The author-
ities should do something to ban such a dangerous substance,” he claimed.
An alleged “best friend” of the victim (the camera preserved his identity by
only showing his back) also appeared on-screen explaining how ayahuasca
was used within the church. He stated that the Santo Daime members
attributed magical qualities to the brew and that some of them also grew
and smoke marijuana. At the end of the show, psychologist Álvaro Farías,
director of the Servicio de Estudio y Asesoramiento en Sectas del Uruguay
(Uruguayan Service of Research and Consulting on Cults) and member of
the Red Iberoamericana de Estudios de las Sectas (Ibero-American Net-
work for Cult Research), analyzed the case of Santo Daime using all the
clichés related to the anti-cult perspectives (e.g., brainwashing) and labe-
led ayahuasca as a dangerous substance that produces a “toxic psychosis.”
Finally, he gave advice to parents on how to identify whether their children
are in a sect and what should be done in that case.
The following day brought more controversy: Weekly newspaper
Búsqueda published a letter by the father of the youth who committed sui-
cide, under the title “Killer Drug.” First, the father alerts the population
about the activities of Santo Daime, a “cult” that uses a “killer and mystical
drug.” The letter affirms how the ceremonies take place in
an uncontrolled context, including vomiting, convulsions, hysterical

dances, and total madness, since it’s a drug that makes them lose their
identity, and carries them to a realm of terror and panic that, in many
cases, incites them to commit suicide.
Finally, he says that the government did not respond to his accusations.
A week later, an anonymous answer to the father’s letter was published
in the same newspaper. The respondent identifies themselves as a former
participant in Santo Daime ceremonies. According to the testimony, this
person never witnessed the events described by the father’s victim. On the
contrary, they had “good teachings from the experiences.” Finally, the per-
son states: “Your denunciation expresses rage against this person, and I
don’t think he is responsible for the lives that are lost. I think that the prob-
lems in a young boy’s life probably begin at home with his family.”
The Case of Ayahuasca International
Recently, ayahuasca-related controversies returned to the public debate after
the arrival of Ayahuasca International. Inner Mastery/Ayahuasca Interna-
tional is an organization founded by Argentine entrepreneur Alberto Varela
in the beginning of 2010s in Spain. As he states in his website, he started
drinking ayahuasca during the 2000s, in his travels to Colombia. There,
he met different shamans, from whom he learned the different spiritual
and native aspects of ayahuasca as a spiritual medicine. In his own words,
he made over 40 trips to Colombia in six years and worked with over 20
shamans from Kamsá, Cofan, and Siona ethnic groups.
After some time living with the Amazonian natives, he returned to Spain
and created his first ayahuasca startup, Espacio Abierto para Disfrutarse
(Open space to enjoy yourself), through which he offered his own ceremo-
nies based on what he had learned in Colombia. For instance, one of the
company’s ads read:
Do you want to see the way out from your conflicts? We connect with
the healing source of the shaman we have inside, which has all the solu-
tions and answers. You will see the origin; you will be yourself again.
In 2008, Alberto Varela was arrested in Spain for a crime “against pub-
lic health” derived from ayahuasca confiscation. He was in prison for
14 months, an experience he considers as a spiritual awakening, a prelude
to his ayahuasca world expansion. After leaving jail, and together with
other spiritual seekers, he resumed his ceremonies, now strongly invest-
ing in digital marketing and social media to promote ayahuasca-related
activities.
The initiative began to spread to different countries. Nowadays, Aya-
huasca International has different retreat “epicenters” in glamorous loca-
tions of Marbella, Eindhoven, Tepoztlán, Barcelona, Madrid, Turin, Rome,
Berlin, and Lieira, among others. In “exclusive” retreats, it offers a wide
array of activities, such as workshops and ceremonies including sacred plants
(ayahuasca, yopo, iboga, rapé) and medicines of animal origin (Bufo alvar-
ius and kambó), individual and group psychotherapy, and sweat lodges, as
well as trips to the Colombian rainforest for on-site experiences. The prices
range from 40 to 150 Euros for specific one-day activities, while four-night
retreats for “complete spiritual formation” cost from 400 to 600 Euros.
Varela also founded a “European Ayahuasca School” that trains the
company’s “facilitators,” who, after a few weeks of study, are ready to con-
duct ayahuasca ceremonies. This is one of the company’s priorities since,
in Varela’s words: “We have received invitations from South Africa, North
Africa, Japan, Korea, China, Australia, New Zealand… But I can’t go
because I don’t have people. That is why our school is training facilitators
at full steam” (Alberto Varela, personal communication, May 2018).
According to Varela, his school has a team of professionals who teach a
combination of esoteric, spiritual and scientific subjects, such as “psycho-
therapeutic integration, transcendental healing, use of therapeutic plants,
musicotherapy, and Ho’oponopono,” among others. Even though he has
no specific training in the area, Varela is also proud of having created his
own therapeutic method, called “no-therapy,” which, despite being “very
difficult to explain,” it is based on “confrontation” and on the idea that
“everything the self experiences and states about itself is a lie.”
In 2017, Varela chose Uruguay to further expand his international foot-
print. It was announced that the company’s headquarters would be located
in the city of Colonia, a two-hour bus ride from the Uruguayan capital,
Montevideo, and one-hour boat ride from the Argentine capital, Buenos
Aires. Shortly after that, El País published an article entitled Lanzan cru-
zada contra la ayahuasca (Crusade Against Ayahuasca is Launched). The
text included anonymous letters by a woman that complained against
Ayahuasca International, alerting to the presence in Uruguay of a “cult that
is active in 100 countries and its director, Alberto Varela, has been con-
victed in Spain because of this…. Followers’ lives are at risk.” Months after
the company started operating in the country, a judicial process was opened
against it, although finally the accusations were dismissed and the case
was archived based on a report made by Uruguay’s Secretaría Nacional de
Drogas (National Drug Office), which pointed out that the country did not
have specific regulation on ayahuasca. As Varela explains, “I knew I was
not doing anything illegal. We had to face a process, but after three months,
the case was closed due to lack of evidence.” Varela continued to conduct
monthly ceremonies in Uruguay and the company is now trying to recruit
more participants through promotional events.
The relevance of Alberto Varela to the discussion of ayahuasca’s legal-
ity lays in its peculiar discourse and commercial implications. While most
of the ayahuasca institutions or centers have nonprofit approaches based
on religious, spiritual, or psychological parameters, Varela is maybe the
first “ayahuasca entrepreneur,” since he introduces himself as a “business-
man” and his organization as an “ayahuasca multinational corporation.”
Thus, he has followed an openly capitalistic path of achieving legal legiti-
macy: Instead of claiming the cultural acknowledgement of the plant by the
authorities (as in Peru), or defending the freedom of religion (as in Brazil),
he chooses direct confrontation, assuming that “my people are prepared
to go to jail,” since the company “faces claims all over the world, in India,
Belgium, Germany, Spain, and Argentina.”
Varela takes advantage of the lack of regulation of ayahuasca in many
countries by confronting the authorities, who, in his words, “don’t know
the laws of their own countries.” Most of the cases faced by Ayahuasca
International are closed due to lack of evidence, as it happened with his
release in Spain. However, for countries that have a specific prohibition of
ayahuasca, the company’s strategy has been to give promotional conferences
encouraging people to go to its “epicenters,” available in other parts of the
world, where the brew is not illegal: Uruguay for Argentines; Ireland for
the English; Switzerland, Italy, or Spain for the French; Mexico for the
Americans, and so on.
Discussion
As was previously noted, the modernization of the Uruguayan state was
a strongly secular process, in which religious elements were confined
to private spaces and politics and state issues became sacralized. At the
same time, whereas the sanitary policies of the twentieth century could be
described as “hygienist,” there was a certain tolerance and liberality toward
the citizens’ private practices, as long as they didn’t threaten law and order
or negatively impact public health.
But, during the 1980s, there were changes in the relationship between the
state and religions; namely, a more open attitude toward religions in public
spaces, such as the presence of some religious symbols in different parts of
the country. With regard to drugs, after a series of left-wing governments
took office in the beginning of the twenty-first century, the country made
distance from the prohibitionist model and increased the regulatory role
of the state over the consumption of substances like alcohol, tobacco, and
cannabis. Furthermore, a harm reduction paradigm was adopted.
Thus, two different policy strategies are developed: for drugs, the inter-
vention and regulations of both collective and individual practices; for reli-
gions, the defense of laicism, with the state acting as a custodian, and the
defense of neutrality for all religious issues: two social spheres with different
forms of political intervention. In the case of drugs, there is a construction
of diverse dispositifs and regulations; in the case of religion, no new institu-
tions, dispositifs, or normative mechanisms are created. This affects the way
in which religious issues are regulated. In fact, Uruguay does not have a state
entity for religious issues and there is no specific procedure for the registra-
tion of religious institutions. The main legal tool related to religious institu-
tions is article n.5 of the Constitution of the Republic, which establishes the
separation between church and state, and guarantees freedom of religion.
The ayahuasca religious practices intersect these two sociopolitical
spaces. The main approach to drugs continues to be a medical vision of the
impact of their consumption on the population’s health. Thus, other drug
aspects, such as their religious use, are not taken into account. Meanwhile,
countries like Brazil do have specific regulations targeting the religious use
of substances like ayahuasca (CONAD, 2010), a legal tool comparable to
the resolution adopted in the US on the religious use of peyote and, more
recently, of ayahuasca.
Specifically, regarding the process of legitimation and legality achieved in
different countries by the Brazilian ayahuasca religions, the case of Santo
Daime in Uruguay seems to recreate the situation in countries like the US
and Canada. The only consistent argument to archive the case in Uruguay
refers to the impossibility of ayahuasca importation from Brazil. In spite of
such argument, both in the US and in Canada, ayahuasca religious insti-
tutions have legal permission to import the brew from Brazil. Literature
shows that, in both cases, the interested parties have strongly mobilized to
achieve the legitimation of their practices.
In several countries, the mobilization of the interested parties has
shown to be crucial to advance in processes of legitimation and legality
of ayahuasca use. The regulation of religious ayahuasca use in Brazil, the
cultural patrimonialization of ayahuasca in Peru, and the Unión de Méd-
icos Indígenas Yageceros de la Amazonía Colombiana (Association of
indigenous ayahuasca doctors from the Colombian Amazon [UMIYAC])
are good examples of this. As a consequence of the people’s mobilization,
ayahuasca is a relevant topic in these countries’ political agenda. In the
US and the Netherlands, the paths for legitimation of ayahuasca use are
paved by the legal actions brought by specific religious groups that basi-
cally achieve favorable results based on the liberal spirit of the freedom
of religion acts.
Hence, there have been two ways for ayahuasca to produce political
effects in different contexts. One is adopted by those countries where the
plant makes part of the traditions and habits of particular population sec-
tors. The other is related to legal actions brought by specific groups that
stand up for their right to use ayahuasca in rituals. In these cases, the rule
of law legitimates a strictly religious use of ayahuasca.
In the meantime, for Uruguayans, ayahuasca is an exotic element that
introduces a new intersection between the fields of drugs and religion.
Unlike the above-mentioned countries, the plants used in the concoc-
tion don’t naturally grow in Uruguay, there is no indigenous population
claiming a traditional use of ayahuasca, nor a relevant amount of religious
ayahuasca institutions organized to legitimate their sacrament. On the con-
trary, the dominating Uruguayan secular imaginary makes it more difficult
for a religious institution to attain public legitimacy, particularly if it is
Christian and comes from Brazil. A good example of this is the treatment
of ayahuasca uses given by the mass media, which have reproduced cultural
imaginaries related to the notions of “cults” and “drugs.”
Despite the controversies analyzed, the topic did not generate many
repercussions nationwide. The state did not take relevant political or legal
actions; probably, because it did not seem like a potential problem for pub-
lic health, unlike tobacco, alcohol, and crack. In general terms, news on
ayahuasca had no more impact than any other sensationalist news. Far
from contributing to the restriction or diminishment of these practices, it is
possible to say that, in Uruguay, the number of ayahuasca groups and users
only keeps growing.
Conclusions
The Uruguayan scenario portends a progressive increase of ayahuasca uses.
The lack of state intervention seems to leave an open field for this process
to unfold. The positive effects of this attitude are that it allows participants
to freely explore diverse religious and existential possibilities based on a
posture of respect and religious freedom. Nevertheless, the negative aspect
is that such lack of intervention leads to neglect. Hence, these practices fall
into a legitimacy and regulation void that is potentially risky. As a result,
future possibilities for ayahuasca other than religious use are not taken into
account. For instance, does Uruguay have an agenda of scientific research
around ayahuasca? Which therapeutic uses could be explored?
Uruguay’s strong democratic tradition, as well as national projects of
drug regulation, such as the cannabis act, has only been possible as a result
of the mobilization of a proactive civil society. If ayahuasca importation
for religious ends is authorized in other countries, there is no reason for
Uruguay to be an exception. However, it is up to the interested parties to
find the right legal mechanisms, probably related to the notions of religious
freedom, democratic spirit, and the legalization of drugs.
Compared to cases frequently studied regarding the transnationalization
of ayahuasca, namely, the Brazilian religions, the Uruguayan situation is
somewhat original in terms of state legitimacy of ayahuasca practices. The
defense and the arguments in the cases of European and North American
countries are mostly based on religious freedom. The difficulties of aya-
huasca production and supply are obvious factors that lead the discussion in
those countries to focus on the legalization of its importation. Even though
the plants used to concoct ayahuasca don’t naturally grow in Uruguay, it
is a Latin American country with a prolific Brazilian frontier; in general
terms, it is easy and cheap to acquire Brazilian ayahuasca that can be trans-
ported through this land border. Clearly, this is not a possibility in the
European and North American countries. On the other hand, the fact of
being a Latin American country doesn’t mean that Uruguay is acquainted
with ayahuasca use, as in the case of the previously mentioned Latin
American countries that have Amazonian regions within their territories.
The Uruguayan authorities are completely aware of who deals with
ayahuasca and how they work with it. Nevertheless, not all of Uruguay’s
ayahuasca users would choose to institutionalize their groups by regulating
them through state intervention. This seems reasonable, both due to the
permeable nature of the Brazil-Uruguay frontier and the amicable relation-
ship established between such groups and local authorities.
The legitimacy obtained by religious institutions in Brazil could also be
an option for Uruguay. In the Brazilian case, the role of ayahuasca groups
was fundamental. Another option would be explicit prohibition, but this
seems unlikely considering Uruguay’s democratic tradition and the recent
drug-related regulations being implemented. In fact, in the Uruguayan
scenario, neither the state nor the ayahuasca groups have proposed formal
alternatives to regulate their practices.
To date, it seems that the most convenient option for ayahuasca groups
is to remain indifferent with regard to state institutionalization. However,
it should be noted that the use of substances such as ayahuasca and its
different potentialities and forms of use is increasingly in the loop of state
institutions. What new processes might take place in the coming years?
References
Apud, I. (2013a). Ceremonias de Ayahuasca: entre un centro holístico uruguayo
y el curanderismo amazónico peruano [Ayahuasca ceremonies: Between a
Uruguayan holistic center and Peruvian Amazonian curanderismo]. Universi-
dad Nacional de Lanús. neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Apud_
Ayahuasca_Uruguay1.pdf
Apud, I. (2013b). El indio fantasmal es reclutado en la ciudad. Neochamanismo,
sus orígenes y su llegada a Uruguay [The ghostly Indian is recruited in the city:
Neoshamanism, its origins and its arrival in Uruguay]. Cuadernos de Antro-
pología Social, 38, 57–83.
Apud, I. (2015). Ayahuasca from Peru to Uruguay: Ritual design and redesign
through a distributed cognition approach. Anthropology of Consciousness,
26(1), 1–27. https://doi.org/10.1111/anoc.12023
Caetano, G. (2013). Laicidad, ciudadanía y política en el Uruguay contemporáneo:
matrices y revisiones de una cultura laicista [Secularism, citizenship and politics
in contemporary Uruguay: Origins and revisions of a secular culture]. Cultura y
Religión, 7(1), 116–139.
Casanova, J. (2006). Rethinking secularization: A global comparative perspective.
The Hedgehog Review, 8(1–2), 7–22.
Champion, F. (1995). Persona religiosa fluctuante, eclecticismo y sincretismos
[Fluctuating religious person, eclecticism, and syncretism]. In J. Delumenau
(Ed.), El Hecho Religioso: Enciclopedia de las grandes religions [The religious
fact: Encyclopedia of the great religions]. Alianza Editorial.
Conselho Nacional de Políticas Sobre Drogas (CONAD). (2010). Resolução
Número 1. Diário Oficial da União, N. 17 [Resolution Number 1. Offi-
cial Gazette of the Union, No. 17]. http://www.mpgo.mp.br/portal/arq
uivos/2013/07/30/11_ 33_ 03_744_ resolucao_ n _1_ _de _ 25_de _janeiro_
de_2012___conad.pdf
Da Costa, N. (2008). Sobre la teoría de la secularización [On the theory of secular-
ization]. Cuadernos del CLAEH, 96–97(2), 209–220.
Da Costa, N. (2009). La laicidad uruguaya [Uruguayan secularism]. Archives de
sciences sociales des religions, 146(2), 137–156.
Hanegraaff, W. J. (1996). New Age religion and Western culture: Esotericism in
the mirror of secular thought. Brill.
International Narcotics Control Board (INCB). (2013). Report 2013. United Nations.
https://www.incb.org /documents/ Publications/AnnualReports/AR 2013/
English/AR_2013_E.pdf
Labate, B. C. (2011). Comments on Brazil’s 2010 resolution regulating ayahuasca
use. Curare, 34(4), 298–304.
Labate, B. C. (2012). Paradoxes of ayahuasca expansion: The UDV-DEA agree-
ment and the limits of freedom of religion. Drugs: Education, Prevention and
Policy, 19(1), 19–26.
Labate, B. C., & Jungaberle, H. (2011). The internationalization of ayahuasca.
Lit-Verlag.
Maclure, J., & Taylor, C. (2011). Laicidad y libertad de conciencia [Secularism
and freedom of conscience]. Alianza.
Menéndez, G. (1997). Crisis del Uruguay laico-racionalista: nuevas religiones y
cultura holística [Crisis of the secular-rationalist Uruguay: New religions and
holistic culture]. Cuadernos del Claeh, 22(78–79).
Sánchez Petrone, V. (2006). Colonos del Astral. La Iglesia del Santo Daime
CEFLURIS en el Uruguay [Colonists of the astral: The Santo Daime CEFLURIS
church in Uruguay]. Universidad de la Republica.
Scuro, J. (2012a). Etnografando, escribiendo e imaginando: notas sobre el Santo
Daime en el Uruguay [Ethnography, writings and imaginary: Notes on the Santo
Daime in Uruguay]. Anuario Antropología Social y Cultural En Uruguay, 10,
115–131.
Scuro, J. (2012b). No Uruguai tambem há Santo Daime. Etnografia de um pro-
cesso de transnacionalizacao religiosa [Uruguay also has Santo Daime: Ethnog-
raphy of a process of religious transnationalization]. Universidade Federal do Rio
Grande do Sul.
Scuro, J. (2016). Neochamanismo en América Latina. Una cartografía desde el
Uruguay. [Neoshamanism in Latin America: A cartography from Uruguay]. Uni-
versidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul.
Scuro, J., & Apud, I. (2015). Aportes para un debate en torno a la regulación de
la ayahuasca en el Uruguay [Contributions for a debate on ayahuasca regulation
in Uruguay]. Anuario Antropología Social y Cultural en Uruguay, 13, 35–50.
Scuro, J., Giucci, G., & Torterola, S. (2018). Camino Rojo from Mexico to Uruguay:
Spiritual leaderships, trajectories and memory. International Journal of Latin
American Religions, 2(2), 248–271. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1007/
s41603-018-0055-4
Scuro, J., Sánchez Petrone, V., & Apud, I. (2013). Las tradiciones de la ayahuasca:
su eco mediático y social en el Uruguay [Ayahuasca traditions: Media and social
echoes in Uruguay]. Anuario de Antropología Social y Cultural En Uruguay,
11, 55–69.
12 Mystics or Criminals?
“Cults,” Religion, and Drugs
Massimo Introvigne
Introduction
On July 4, 2000, I was invited to speak on Santo Daime at the conference
organized in Padua, Italy, by the Latin American Association for the Study
of Religion. I discussed the legal cases involving groups using ayahuasca
in Europe and elsewhere, “between prophecy and police,” urging for more
prophecy and less police in the treatment of these groups by public author-
ities (Introvigne, 2000). At that time, some 18 years ago, I was visiting
Brazil and other Latin American countries often, lecturing on the issue
of “cults,” or sectas in Spanish, a word which should not be translated as
“sects” but as “cults,” since it serves the same derogatory function, while
“sect” is a milder term in English.
My main argument was that “cult” (secta) was a word no longer used
by most social scientists, as it implies a negative value judgment and had
become a tool to discriminate against unpopular groups. Normally, I lec-
tured in academic settings, and often encountered the view, coming fre-
quently from colleagues from Catholic or Protestant universities, that “at
least the groups using ayahuasca should be regarded as cults.” I also vis-
ited groups often labeled as “cults” by their critics, including movements
mostly known for their practice of sexual magic. Curiously, I found the
same objection there: “We are not a cult, but other groups, such as those
using hallucinogenic drugs in their rituals, are.”
My travels bring me to unusual places, indeed. In 2017, I was invited,
with other Western scholars, to two seminars in China by the Chinese
Anti-Xie-Jiao Association, which has a direct connection with the Chinese
Communist Party (CCP), to discuss the notion of xie jiao. Being active
in a xie jiao is a crime punished with severe jail penalties in China. Both
Chinese law, CCP resolutions, and decisions by the People’s Supreme Court
mention the need to combat xie jiao, but definitions are either lacking or
unclear (Irons, 2018). The most recent attempt to date resulted in Rule One
of the Interpretations on the Issues Concerning the Application of Laws in
Criminal Cases Relating to Organizing and Utilizing Evil Organizations
to Destroy Law Enforcement, issued on January 25, 2017, by the People’s
DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-13 207

208 Massimo Introvigne
Supreme Court and the Office of the People’s Supreme Procuratorate, inter-
preting Article 300 of the Criminal Code, which mentions xie jiao. These
were defined as
illegal organizations, which, through fraudulent use of religion, qi

gong, or any other name, by deifying and promoting their ringlead-
ers, or by fabricating and spreading superstitious fallacies and other
means to confuse and deceive others … control group members and
harm society.
(The Supreme People’s Procuratorate of the People’s
Republic of China, 2017)
Each term should be, in turn, defined: Which use of religion is “fraudu-
lent”? Which religious doctrines are “superstitious fallacies”? and so on.
The term xie jiao was introduced in China to designate “unorthodox
teachings” in the Ming era (Goossaert & Palmer, 2011, pp. 27–29). Accord-
ing to Goossaert and Palmer, the Emperor “decided on the basis of his
own judgement” (Goossaert & Palmer, 2011, p. 27), which religions and
movements should be banned as xie jiao, a term whose correct translation
is “heterodox teachings.” The judgment was often political: Christianity as
a whole was added to the list of the banned religions in 1725 and severely
persecuted, until, in 1842, “British guns forced a radical policy change”
(Goossaert & Palmer, 2011, p. 31). On the other hand, “it would be very
misleading to reduce the whole of the imperial state’s policies to secu-
rity concerns, as quite often, decisions on recognizing or banning certain
cults, specialists, or rituals hinged on purely moral-theological reasons”
(Goossaert & Palmer, 2011, p. 33). Palmer has also demonstrated how xie
jiao acquired different meanings through the imperial, nationalist, and
Communist periods, in connection with different political circumstances
(Palmer, 2012).
Several Chinese academics who specialize in the study and criticism of
xie jiao, translate the term as “cult,” and maintain that “cults” are a univer-
sal problem, not a Chinese one only. Some academics were busy promoting
translations of standard American European and anti-cult works, and even
invited deprogrammers to China (Chen, 2017; Xu, 2017). They eventu-
ally realized, however, that this approach had the disadvantage to create
extremely long lists of xie jiao, while the CCP and the police would prefer
to concentrate their resources on the few they regard as dangerous for Chi-
na’s social stability. Hence, the further translation of xie jiao as “destructive
cults,” a term also used by Western anti-cultists, or (more commonly) as
“evil cults,” with the implication that not all “cults” are really “destruc-
tive” or “evil.”
Some Chinese academics imported from Western anti-cultism the notion
of “brainwashing” as the distinctive character of “destructive cults.” This
was another paradox, since the very word “brainwashing” was originally
Mystics or Criminals? “Cults,” Religion, and Drugs 209
coined by the American intelligence during the Cold War to support
anti-Chinese propaganda. “Brainwashing” was something the evil Chinese
Communists did (Anthony, 1996). Chinese courts, including the People’s
Supreme Court, stayed away from brainwashing controversies and, as men-
tioned earlier, described xie jiao as groups spreading “superstition,” which
is defined as something opposed to both science and socialism, and dif-
ferent from genuine religion. In fact, xie jiao are also defined as “pseudo-
religious” movements.
The secular repression of xie jiao is not a unique Chinese phenomenon,
from which the West is happily immune. In fact, what Chinese call xie jiao
have been constantly repressed in the West too, only under different names
(see, e.g., Wright, 1995; Wright & Richardson, 2011; Wright & Palmer,
2016).
“Cults”
In pre-modern Europe, not unlike in imperial China, it was taken for
granted that Church and state should cooperate to repress heresy, and to
persecute it in the harshest possible way. Even such a rational man, and
moderate theologian, as Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) argued that, if
the state executes those who spread false money, it should also execute
the heretics, who spread false doctrines and are even more dangerous
(Aquinas, 2000, Summa theologiae, Secunda secundae, q. 11, art. 3).
After the Reformation, Protestant states, starting with Geneva under John
Calvin (1509–1564), changed the definition of heresy but continued to exe-
cute heretics (Bainton, 1953).
The French Revolution eliminated the last vestiges of the Inquisition and
triumphantly proclaimed that the time of religious liberty had come; if, at
the expenses of killing several thousand Catholic priests during the Great
Terror (Shusterman, 2014). However, when the dust of the Revolution set-
tled, it became clear that states were still punishing heterodoxy, although
based on different grounds.
In the early nineteenth century, we find what is today the English word
“cult” (again, under the guise of secta in Spanish, secte in French, and setta
in Italian) used in official documents to warn against the evil activities of
Freemasonry. Catholic authors and authorities used these labels to indicate
that Freemasons promoted ideas the Church could not accept. However,
some very secular official and police documents, including in countries
whose authorities were officially hostile to the Catholic Church, called
Freemasonry a “cult” because they suspected it, not of anti-Catholicism,
but of conspiring against the governments (Martin, 2000). Here, a new
meaning of “cult” was introduced, and the notion of heresy went through
a process of secularization. “Cults” were religious, spiritual, or esoteric
organizations regarded as subversive and suspected of being dangerous for
the state.
Once defined, this notion of “cult” was extended to groups very different
from Freemasonry that, today, would be called “new religious movements.”
And it would be unfortunately untrue to argue that at least modern states
did not kill heretics. In Italy, in 1878, the military police raided the com-
munal settlement of the Giurisdavidic Religion on Mount Amiata, Tuscany,
killing its founder Davide Lazzeretti (also spelled Lazzaretti, 1834–1878)
and three of his followers, and leaving another 150 wounded (Tedeschi,
1989). In 1896–1897, the government of Brazil launched a military cam-
paign against the communal settlement of rural prophet Antonio Con-
selheiro (1830–1897) in Canudos, Bahia, killing him and some 20,000
followers (Levine, 1995). The tragedy is the subject matter of the Nobel
Prize laureate Mario Vargas Llosa’s 1984 novel, The War of the End of the
World (Vargas Llosa, 1984).
Both the Mount Amiata and Canudos movements did not recognize the
authority of the local Catholic bishops and were declared “heretic” by the
Catholic Church. But, both in Brazil and Italy, the governments at that time
were anti-clerical and even put some Catholic bishops in jail. They did not
care about heresy, but violently eradicated these “cults,” regarding them
as subversive, in the sense that they did not recognize the authority of the
governments.
A new criminological definition of “cult” was born, based not on creeds
but on deeds. This approach started with the father of criminology him-
self, Italian physician Cesare Lombroso (1835–1909), ironically himself,
an advocate of Spiritualism (Lombroso, 1909), which, in some countries,
was regarded as a “cult.” He obtained and dissected Lazzeretti’s body look-
ing for “anomalies.” Cults, he suggested, are religious groups conspiring
against the public order and following a mentally disturbed leader (Lom-
broso, 1890, pp. 95–99). Obviously, this approach did not particularly
focus on the cult’s “heresies” or doctrines.
Although Lombroso was very much respected during his lifetime and
beyond, in recent years, a movement in Italy called for removing statues
of the great criminologist from public squares and changing the names of
streets and museums named after him (Milicia, 2014a). Lombroso was
accused of having criticized the bloody repression of Catholic revolts in
Southern Italy against the newly established and anticlerical Italian state,
by arguing that Catholic peasants in the South, not unlike “cultists,” such
as the followers of Lazzeretti, were backward ignoramuses manipulated by
mentally disturbed leaders (Milicia, 2014b). Worse still, although this hap-
pened after his death, the dangers of Lombroso’s theories became apparent
when they were used by both Fascists in Italy and Nazis in Germany to
justify the persecution of religious minorities (Petracci, 2014).
In fact, the totalitarian regimes went one step beyond Lombroso. While,
for Lombroso, “cults” were groups conspiring against the governments,
Nazism and Fascism killed a good number of Jehovah’s Witnesses and Pen-
tecostals who, strictly speaking, had no political interests. However, to be
labeled as a “cult,” it was now enough not to support the government pub-
licly or to exhibit a lifestyle different from the regime’s normative model. In
the infamous Fascist administrative order of 1935, the Pentecostal “cult”
was even accused of “compromising the psychical and physical racial integ-
rity of the Italians,” by speaking in tongues and unduly exciting their nerv-
ous systems (Rochat, 1990, p. 246).
The fall of the Nazi and Fascist regimes did not mean that criminology
abandoned its own use of the word “cult,” which dated back to Lombroso
and continued to indicate a religious group that committed serious crimes;
by now, not necessarily including conspiring to overthrow the government.
However, in the meantime, theologians and sociologists had started
using the category of “cult” with meanings different from criminologists.
Christian theologians started realizing that the word “heresy” evoked the
Inquisition and the burning at stake of dissidents. Some of them preferred
to use what was once in their literature a synonym of “heresy,” “cult,”
which in the meantime, had entered common language. However, they used
the word with a meaning different from criminologists. For them, creeds
were more important than deeds, and a group who denied the Trinity or
the divinity of Jesus Christ was a “cult,” even if its members were otherwise
good citizens (Martin, 1965).
With sociologists, translation problems became even more complicated
because a tradition had evolved from Max Weber (1864–1920) and Ernst
Troeltsch (1865–1923), although the second was not a sociologist but a
church historian using sociological tools (Weber, 1904–1905, 1906a,
1906b; Troeltsch, 1912). The tradition went through various stages of
development in the United States (a key passage being the work of Niebuhr,
1929), using both “cult” and “sect,” and distinguishing between them.
Without rehashing this often-told story, what is important here is that,
while they started their careers as contemporaries of Lombroso, who was
well-known in German-speaking countries, both Weber and Troeltsch
completely ignored his criminological categories. For them and their suc-
cessors, “sects” and “cults” were not heterodox, let alone criminal, reli-
gious groups, but religions in an early stage of their development, regarded
as marginal by, and critical of, society at large, and not, or not yet, fully
organized (Richardson, 1978, 1979, 1993; Dillon & Richardson, 1999).
The overlapping activities of criminologists and sociologists created a
confusion, not completely resolved to this day. “Cult,” based on the crimi-
nological tradition, and the parallel framing by Christian critics of “cults”
as heresies, became generally understood as a word charged with strong
negative connotations, while sociologists used it in a value-free way. Decid-
ing what group was really a “cult” became difficult.
This situation went from bad to worse with the “cult wars” of the 1970s
and 1980s, when a societal reaction developed against the success in the
West of new religious movements, either imported from Asia or domestic.
Parents and the media did not understand why youths might be willing to
sacrifice their careers in order to spend their lives in exotic religious organ-
izations, and the modern anti-cult movement was born. Its story has been
told in several valuable studies (including Shupe & Bromley, 1980; Bromley
& Shupe, 1981; Shupe & Bromley, 1994), and a short summary will suffice
for the purposes of this article.
A handful of psychologists imported the notion of “brainwashing” from
Cold War American propaganda against Communism (and, as mentioned
earlier, against China), arguing that these youths did not join the groups
voluntarily but were manipulated trough mysterious mind control tech-
niques. “Cults” were defined as groups using “brainwashing,” yet another
evolution of the criminological definition—but one making reference, rather
than to actual crimes such as violence or sexual abuse, to a hypothetical
crime (brainwashing), whose very existence was disputed.
In fact, sociologists and other scholars reacted against the “brainwash-
ing” theories, claiming that they were pseudo-scientific tools used to
deny religious liberty to unpopular groups labeled as “cults.” The argu-
ment, they claimed, was circular. We know that certain groups are “cults”
because they use “brainwashing,” and we know that they use “brainwash-
ing” because, rather than persuading young people to embrace “reasona-
ble” spiritual teachings, they spread bizarre forms of belief, i.e., they are
“cults” (Kilbourne & Richardson, 1984; Kilbourne & Richardson, 1986;
Richardson, 1996).
A good deal of name-calling went on between the vast majority of the
academic specialists of new religious movements and anti-cultists during the
so-called “Cult Wars” (Introvigne, 2014; Gallagher, 2016). Several stud-
ies, starting from the seminal The Making of a Moonie by Eileen Barker,
demonstrated that “cults” accused of using so-called “brainwashing” tech-
niques obtained a very low percentage of conversions, proving that these
techniques, if they existed at all, were not very successful (Barker, 1984).
In 1990, in the case U.S. v. Fishman, a federal court in California con-
cluded that “brainwashing” was not a scientific concept and that testimony
about “cults” based on the brainwashing theory was not admissible in
American courts of law (U.S. District Court for the Northern District of
California, 1990). Fishman was the beginning of the end for the Ameri-
can anti-cult movement’s social relevance (Richardson, 2014, 2015). The
notion of “brainwashing” was still defended by a tiny minority of scholars
and inspired some laws, in France and elsewhere, but they soon proved
difficult to enforce (Anthony & Introvigne, 2006).
Another consequence of the Cult Wars was that most academic schol-
ars decided not to use the word “cult” because of its heavy judgmental
and criminological implications, replacing it with “new religious move-
ments.” The new label evolved from Japanese and Korean concepts of “new
religions,” common in Asia since the 1930s, and later applied to Western
movements by Jacob Needleman (Needleman, 1970), but was defined and
widely adopted thanks to the efforts of Eileen Barker.
“Criminal Religious Movements” (CRMs)
Anti-cultists accused scholars of new religious movements of being “cult
apologists,” for which all “cults” were inoffensive. This was never the case,
as these scholars always acknowledged that some religious movements,
both outside and inside mainline religious traditions, created real “social
problems,” and advocated and committed very real crimes such as terror-
ism, homicide, rape, and child abuse, not to be confused with the imagi-
nary crime of brainwashing (Barker, 2011, pp. 201–203).
In 1993, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) siege of the headquar-
ters of the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas, ended in the death of 80
members of the group, including 22 children (Wright, 1995; Wessinger,
2017). The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s (FBI) Critical Incidents
Response Group started studying what went wrong in Waco, seeking the
cooperation of academic scholars of new religious movements. I, myself,
co-organized and chaired a seminar for FBI agents in 1998 in Fred-
ericksburg, VA (Barkun, 2002, 103), where Eileen Barker, J. Gordon
Melton, Jim Richardson, Cathy Wessinger, Susan Palmer, and Jane
Williams-Hogan also spoke. At the seminar, it was immediately clear to
the FBI that scholars would not use the word “cult,” yet the agents wanted
to know which, among thousands of religious groups, were most inclined
to commit serious crimes and should be kept under surveillance. Schol-
ars proposed various tentative criteria, and the conversation between the
agency and some of them continued for several years, although how much
scholars really influenced FBI practice is a matter of dispute (see Johnson &
Weitzman, 2017).
From 2001 to 2002, several leading scholars of new religious movements
from Europe and the United States (including the undersigned) joined in a
project called “Cults, Religion and Violence,” led by David Bromley and
J. Gordon Melton, that included seminars and sessions at conferences and
culminated, in 2002, in the publication of a book with the same title by
Cambridge University Press (Bromley & Melton, 2002). The project con-
sidered the earlier dialog between some scholars and the FBI, but was not
limited to the issues discussed there.
While the project “Cults, Religion and Violence” was developing, the
bombings of 9/11 occurred, with two important effects: It made it some-
what obvious that “bad” groups existed within traditional religions as well,
a notion reinforced by the scandals of Catholic pedophile priests, which
also extended to other mainline religions (Shupe, 1995, 1998, 2007; Shupe
et al., 2000), and created a new urgency in governments all over the world
to define the features of “extremist” religious groups, sometimes called,
once again, “cults.” Most scholars continued to oppose the use of “cult,” as
an expression compromised by its association with the discredited theory
of brainwashing, yet recognized that law enforcement agencies did need
criteria for identifying the dangerous groups (Richardson, 1978, 1993).
In the first decades of the twentieth century, while China developed its
new anti-xie-jiao policy, the Russian Parliament and courts elaborated
their own definitions of “extremist groups,” originally introduced in
2002, in the aftermath of 9/11, to limit the activities of radical funda-
mentalist Islam in Russia. Later, however, most new religious movements
were labeled as “extremist groups.” In 2017, the Jehovah’s Witnesses were
“liquidated” and banned in Russia as an “extremist group,” and legal
proceedings were started to “liquidate” the Church of Scientology and
several other movements. Definitions of “extremist groups” in Russia
ran into the same problems China experienced with xie jiao, but Russian
courts introduced some criteria of their own (Falikov, 2018). A crucial
one in the case of the Jehovah’s Witnesses was “exclusivism,” as Russian
judges explained that should be regarded as “extremist” any group that
argues that it is the only true religion and way of salvation and that all
other religions are false (Introvigne, 2018). Obviously, we find similar
affirmations in the holy books and statements of most religions, and reli-
gion in general is not a place we can expect to find pluralistic and relativ-
istic ideas of truth. The exclusivity test, once again, refers to belief rather
than behavior, and can easily lead to the conclusion that most religions
are “extremist groups.”
In my own opinion, “criminal religious movements” (CRMs) is a more
accurate and useful category than “cults.” It uses, although selectively, ele-
ments from the criminological tradition. It avoids the word “cult” and tries
to disentangle the category from both the folk psychology of brainwashing
and the politics of “extremism” in theology. A criminal religious movement
is a religious movement that advocates for, or consistently engages as a
group in, major violent or criminal activities, including terrorism, hom-
icide, physical violence against members, dissidents or opponents, rape,
sexual abuse of minors, or major economic crimes (the definition is my
own).
There are five key elements of this definition. First, the definition refers
to religious movements. There are many criminal movements and organi-
zations that are not religious, but this is not the problem we are discussing
at present. Here, I favor a broader definition of religion, including spiritual
and esoteric groups. The definition does not purport to solve all the prob-
lems associated with defining “religion” but, at the same time, stays away
from attempts to label certain groups as “pseudo-religious” that are either
based on the naïve notion that all religions are benign, or lead to very dif-
ficult questions about what a “genuine” religion is (Platvoet & Molendijk,
1999). For the functional purpose of the definition, a religious group is a
group characterized by religious beliefs and practices, without investigating
their orthodoxy, quality, or “strangeness.”
Second, the definition refers to crimes committed, advocated, or justified
by a group as a group. It is not enough that some members of the movement
commit crimes. That some Catholic priests are pedophiles does not make
the Catholic Church a CRM, as the institution’s doctrines do not condone
pedophilia (although some bishops did), and the overwhelming majority of
Catholics and priests abhor it. The definition implies that the movement,
as a group, in its corporate capacity, advocates in its doctrines for, or com-
mits acts that are, consistently and systematically criminal; although it also
recognizes that, in some cases, one single “critical incident,” for example, a
terrorist attack, may be enough to identify the group as a CRM.
Third, the definition implies that crimes should be major ones, such as
terrorism, rape, homicide, child abuse, physical violence, and even serious
and consistent economic crimes, such as international money laundering.
Many religious groups are accused in some countries of tax evasion and
minor administrative wrongdoings. This alone should not lead to the con-
clusion that the group is a CRM.
Fourth, the definition also insists on well-defined crimes, punished by
existing laws of general application, and not by new laws created for the
specific purpose of acting against the so-called “cults.” As such, it focuses,
for example, on physical violence, rather than on elusive notions of psycho-
logical violence; on beating or murdering opponents in this life, rather than
on threatening them with the flames of hell in the next, and so on.
The fifth comment emphasizes that definitions never solve all problems,
and grey areas will always remain. CRMs are groups that commit and/
or advocate violence. Advocating or inciting violence is already a form of
violence. A religious movement consistently and systematically using hate
speech may be eventually recognized as a CRM.
Are Ayahuasca Movements CRMs?

Movements whose rituals include the consumption of ayahuasca and other
so-called “entheogenic” substances are accused in various countries of
being “cults” (see Hobbs, 2018, where the author translates the French
secte and parallel words from several Continental European languages as
“sect” while, as mentioned earlier, I believe that the correct translation is
“cult”). My answer to the question of whether they deserve to be labeled
“cults” is, from my own point of view, easy. They are not “cults” because
there are no “cults.” “Cult” is just a convenient label created to discrim-
inate against religious and spiritual movements that private organizations
and/or governments do not like.
The appropriate question is whether these groups are criminal religious
movements (CRM). If violence was the only test, the negative answer would
be very easy. The groups discussed in this volume are normally peaceful.
Even dissent and schism did not generate violence, as is unfortunately com-
mon in many other religious traditions.
However, I define CRM as groups engaging in “major violent or criminal
activities,” and not all criminal activities are violent. The case of groups
ritually using hallucinogenic substances is very interesting, and is a stress
test for the very category of CRM. What does “criminal activity” mean
within the context of the definition? A facile answer would be that it is
an activity defined as criminal by the law. This answer, however, would
remove the analysis of what a CRM is from the domain of social science
and make it the exclusive province of the State. It would also make the
definition open to all sorts of manipulations. If a government does not like
a religion, it would simply promulgate a law making what is typical of that
religion illegal.
The concept of “criminal activity,” accordingly, cannot have the existing
laws, which are different from state to state, as its only parameter. Interna-
tional consensus, the attitude of international organizations, the opinions
of scholars should also be considered. There is certainly a widespread con-
sensus that sacrificing human beings, at least in the twenty-first century, is
a criminal activity, and that preaching that the Earth is flat is not. There is
no such consensus for the use of ayahuasca and similar substances.
Here, we are confronted with two radical answers. An anti-prohibitionist
attitude simply states that consumption of hallucinogenic drugs should be
free, irrespective of the context: medical, religious, or recreational. A prohi-
bitionist attitude would reduce the question to pharmacology, asking experts
to determine whether ayahuasca, or other substances used in religious ritu-
als, are harmful. Other articles in this book discuss this question in depth.
I am not a pharmacologist, but I do not believe that pharmacology alone
can decide this question. In fact, the very notion of “entheogenic” sub-
stances is not a pharmacological one. Whether a substance serves as enthe-
ogenic cannot be determined based on its chemical analysis. “Entheogenic”
is an ascribed meaning, socially constructed in a specific context. The
same substance may be simply a “drug”—whose use prohibitionists would
repress, and anti-prohibitionists allow—in a context, and an “entheogen”
in another. The distinction between deeds and creeds is important—and
should be maintained, lest somebody invokes religious liberty to justify
human sacrifice—but is not absolute. In practice, creeds color deeds. I do
agree with the US Supreme Court decision of 2006, arguing that the UDV,
one of the religions using ayahuasca in their rituals, should be allowed to
do so in the name of religious liberty.
The UDV, the Court summarized, effectively demonstrated that its

sincere exercise of religion was substantially burdened [by the prohi-
bition to use the substance in its rituals], and the Government failed
to demonstrate that the application of the burden to the UDV would,
more likely than not, be justified by the asserted compelling interests.
(Supreme Court of United States, 2006)
Note that the Supreme Court made a very limited use of pharmacology in
its decision. Citing previous cases on peyote, it concluded that a certain
substance became what UDV prefers to call “hoasca” through the ritual.
As such, it was covered by the protection of religious liberty in the US
Constitution and in the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993.
If the US Supreme Court was right in the UDV case, as I believe it was,
the religious movements consuming ayahuasca and parallel substances in
their rituals are not criminal religious movements, and the use of the label
“cult” for them is simply defamatory.
There are three possible objections to this conclusion. First, somebody
could argue that certain substances are so obviously dangerous that no
religious ritual, or appeal to religious liberty, may make their use accept-
able, just as religious freedom does not cover human sacrifice. I agree, and
a hypothetical First Church of Heroin might find itself in a different situ-
ation. Here, we would need again to consult the pharmacologists, but it
seems to me that the existing literature on ayahuasca never compared it to
heroin, and this was also the position of the US Supreme Court in 2006.
Second, the objection can be raised that leaders of ayahuasca-related
movements committed crimes, mentioning among them the Colombian
Comunidad de Paz de Pensamiento Bonito (Peace Community of Nice
Thoughts), whose founder, Orlando Gaitán, was arrested in 2015 on
charges of sexual abuse of some 50 women, some of them minors (Caicedo
Fernández, 2018; see also, Sánchez Sarmiento, 2015, a master’s thesis by an
ex-member of the Comunidad). Assuming that a final decision will declare
Gaitán guilty as charged, still there would be no evidence that his is a typ-
ical case and that sexual abuse is more prevalent among leaders of aya-
huasca movements than among Catholic priests or Buddhist lamas.
Third, it may be argued that, in some cases, there is a direct relation
between ayahuasca and abuse. Allegedly, ayahuasca has been used to weaken
the defense of women who were subsequently abused. In July 2018, in San
Martín de Pangoa in the Satipo province of the Junín region in Peru, the
police arrested Felix Steven Manrique, known as “Prince Gurdjieff,” who
was living with six women and five children. The police operation followed
a long campaign by the father of one of the women, the Spaniard Patricia
Aguilar, who had joined the group when she was barely 18. After the police
action, the media reported that Patricia was “deprogrammed.” In 2019,
Manrique was sentenced to 20 years in prison for “kidnapping and sexually
abusing” his “wives” (‘Príncipe Gurdjieff’ es condenado 20 años, 2019).
As Mario Vargas Llosa observed in an editorial published by the Spanish
daily El País, Manrique may well be an unsavory character, but the story
has been told by the media through a standard anti-cult narrative, without
investigating whether Patricia was happy in the “cult” or if she wished to
be “deprogrammed” (Vargas Llosa, 2018).
What is interesting here is the claim reported in the media that the women
were compelled to submit to Manrique (“brainwashed”) through the use of
ayahuasca. A woman who claimed to have left the group before the raid,
and asked to remain anonymous fearing retaliations, told the Spanish TV
network Telecinco, “He [Manrique] gave us ayahuasca so that we could see
things we did not believe in. It was a terrible experience” (Víctima del líder
de la secta peruana, 2018). The claim was widely disseminated in the media.
The “Prince Gurdjieff” group was not a typical ayahuasca movement,
nor was it very much related to the Armenian esoteric master George Iva-
novich Gurdjieff (1866?–1949). Its main reference was the neo-Gnosticism
of Samael Aun Weor (1917–1977). Did its leader really use ayahuasca to
make women “see things they did not believe in,” and persuade them to
have sexual relations with him? The investigation appears to be tainted
by a generous dose of anti-cult rhetoric; yet, at this stage, the charge does
not seem to have been proved. Even if this was the case, we would be con-
fronted with a case of misuse of ayahuasca in a religious context, which is
different from its normal use. Not only ayahuasca, but deep meditation or
even vigorous Christian preaching about the torments of hell may perhaps
be used to impress young women and make it easier for predatory religious
leaders to seduce them. However, since the laws of the Roman Republic and
Empire, it is a well-established principle that abusus non tollit usum: The
misuse of something is not an argument against its proper use.
I stand by my conclusion of 18 years ago (Introvigne, 2000): We need
less police and more prophecy to understand ayahuasca-related new reli-
gious movements. Although, like all religious traditions, they may include
individuals who commit crimes, reconstructing the tradition as a whole as
a criminal “cult” belongs to media sensationalism and heresy hunting, not
to social science.
References
Anthony, D. (1996). Brainwashing and totalitarian influence: An exploration of
admissibility criteria for testimony in brainwashing trials (Unpublished doctoral
dissertation). Berkeley Graduate Theological Union.
Aquinas, T. (2000). Corpus Thomisticum (Alarcón. E., Ed.). Universitas Studio-
rum Navarrensis. http://www.corpusthomisticum.org.
Anthony, D., & Introvigne, M. (2006). Le Lavage de cerveau: mythe ou réalité?[
Brainwashing: Myth or reality?]. L’Harmattan.
Bainton, R. H. (1953). Hunted heretic: The life and death of Michael Servetus,
1511–1553. Beacon Press.
Barker, E. (1984). The making of a Moonie: Choice or brainwashing? Basil
Blackwell.
Barker, E. (2011). The cult as a social problem. In T. Hjelm (Ed.), Religion and
social problems (pp. 198–212). Routledge.
Barkun, M. (2002). Project Megiddo, the FBI and the academic community. In J.
Kaplan (Ed.), Millennial violence: Past, present and future (pp. 97–108). Routledge.
Bromley, D. G., & Melton, J. G. (Eds.). (2002). Cults, religion and violence. Cam-
bridge University Press.
Bromley, D. G., & Shupe, A. D., Jr. (1981). Strange gods: The great American cult
scare. Beacon Press.
Caicedo Fernández, A. (2018). Power and legitimacy in the reconfiguration of the
yagecero field in Colombia. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), The expand-
ing world ayahuasca diaspora: Appropriation, integration, and legislation
(pp. 199–216). Routledge.
Chen, Q. (2017, September 15–16). Reflection on the definition of cults and its
related problems. [Conference presentation]. The question of Xiejiao in China
and the case of the Church of Almighty God, University of Hong Kong.
Dillon, J., & Richardson, J. T. (1999). The “cult” concept: A politics of representa-
tion analysis. Syzygy: Journal of Alternative Religion and Culture, 3, 185–197.
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4419-9094-5_1
Falikov, B. (2018). The provisions against religious extremism and illegal business
activity as instruments for outlawing religious minorities in Russia: The case of
the Church of Scientology. The Journal of CESNUR, 2(2), 101–110.
Gallagher, W. V. (Ed.). (2016). “Cult wars” in historical perspective: New and
minority religions. Routledge.
Goossaert, V., & Palmer, D. A. (2011). The religious question in modern China.
University of Chicago Press.
Hobbs, J. (2018). “Altered by the hand of man”: Contextualizing ayahuasca law in
Britain and Europe. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), The expanding world
ayahuasca diaspora: Appropriation, integration, and legislation (pp. 42–60).
Routledge.
Introvigne, M. (2000, July 4). Le Chiese del Santo Daime dal Brasile all’Europa:
tra profezia e polizia [The Churches of Santo Daime from Brazil to Europe:
Between prophecy and police]. [Conference presentation]. ALER (Latin Ameri-
can Association for the Study of Religion), Padua, Italy. https://www.cesnur.org/
testi/mi_daime2K.htm
Introvigne, M. (2014). Advocacy, brainwashing theories, and new religious move-
ments. Religion, 44(2), 303–319.
Introvigne, M. (2018). The social construction of “extremism” in Russia: From the
Jehovah’s Witnesses to Scientology and beyond. The Journal of CESNUR, 2(2),
93–100.
Irons, E. (2018). The list: The evolution of China’s list of illegal and evil cults. The
Journal of CESNUR, 2(1), 33–57.
Johnson, S. A., & Weitzman, S. (Eds.). (2017). The FBI and religion: Faith and
national security before and after 9/11. University of California Press.
Kilbourne, B. K., & Richardson, J. T. (1984). Psychotherapy and new religions in a
pluralistic society. American Psychologist, 39(3), 237–251.
Kilbourne, B. K., & Richardson, J. T. (1986). Cultphobia. Thought, 61(241), 258–266.
Levine, R. M. (1995). Vale of tears: Revisiting the Canudos massacre in Northeast-
ern Brazil, 1893–1897. University of California Press.
Lombroso, C. (1890). Pazzi ed anomaly [Crazy and anomalous]. S. Lapi.
Lombroso, C. (1909). Ricerche sui fenomeni ipnotici e spiritici [Research on hyp-
notic and spiritual phenomena]. Unione Tipografica Editrice Torinese.
Martin, L. P. (Ed.). (2000). Les francs-maçons dans la cité. Les cultures politiques
de la franc-maçonnerie en Europe (XIXe–XXe siècles) [Freemasons in the city:
The political cultures of Freemasonry in Europe (19th–20th centuries)]. Presses
Universitaires de Rennes.
Martin, W. R. (1965). The kingdom of the cults. Zondervan.
Milicia, M. T. (2014a). La protesta “No Lombroso” sul web. Narrative identitarie
neo-meridionaliste. [The protest “No Lombroso” on the web: Neo-southern
identity narratives]. Etnografia e ricerca qualitativa, 14(2), 265–286.
Milicia, M. T. (2014b). Lombroso e il brigante. Storia di un cranio conteso [Lom-
broso and the brigand: History of a disputed skull]. Salerno.
Needleman, J. (1970). The new religions. Doubleday & Co.
Niebuhr, H. R. (1929). The social sources of denominationalism. Henry Holt &
Company.
Palmer, D. A. (2012). Heretical doctrines, reactionary secret societies, evil cults:
Labelling heterodoxy in 20th-century China. In M. Yang (Ed.), Chinese religiosi-
ties: The Vicissitudes of modernity and state formation (pp. 113–134). University
of California Press.
Petracci, M. (2014). I matti del Duce. Manicomi e repressione politica nell’Italia
fascista [The madmen of Il Duce: Asylums and political repression in fascist
Italy]. Donzelli.
Platvoet, J. G., & Molendijk, A. L. (Eds.). (1999). The pragmatics of defining reli-
gion: Contexts, concepts and contests. Brill.
‘Príncipe Gurdjieff’ es condenado 20 años. [“Prince Gurdjieff” was sentenced to
20 years]. (2019, March 30). Trome. https://trome.pe/actualidad/patricia-agu-
ilar-felix-manrique-20-anos-carcel-trata-personas-secuestrar-seis-mujeres-vid-
eo-fotos-nndc-117945/
Richardson, J. T. (1978). An oppositional and general conceptualization of cult.
Annual Review of the Social Sciences of Religion, 2, 29–52.
Richardson, J. T. (1979). From cult to sect: Creative eclecticism in new religious
movements. Pacific Sociological Review, 22, 139–166.
Richardson, J. T. (1993). Definitions of cult: From sociological-technical to popu-
lar-negative. Review of Religious Research, 34(4), 348–356.
Richardson, J. T. (1996). Sociology and the new religions: “Brainwashing,” the
courts, and religious freedom. In P. Jenkins & S. Kroll-Smith (Eds.), Witnessing
for sociology: Sociologists in court (pp. 115–137). Praeger.
Richardson, J. T. (2014). “Brainwashing” as forensic evidence. In S. J. Morewitz
& M. L. Goldstein (Eds.), Handbook of forensic sociology and psychology (pp.
77–85). Springer.
Richardson, J. T. (2015). “Brainwashing” and mental health. In H. S. Friedman
(Ed.), Encyclopedia of mental health (2nd ed., pp. 210–215). Elsevier.
Rochat, G. (1990). Regime fascista e Chiese evangeliche. Direttive e articolazioni
del controllo e della repressione [Fascist regime and Evangelical churches: Direc-
tives and articulations of control and repression]. Claudiana.
Sánchez Sarmiento, B. (2015). Entre la fraternidad y la violencia. Un caso de
neo-chamanismo urbano [Between brotherhood and violence: A case of urban
neoshamanism] (Master’s thesis). Pontificia Universidad Javieriana. http://ram-
wan.net/tesis/96.betty-sanchez.pdf
Shupe, A. D., Jr. (1995). In the name of all that’s holy: A theory of clergy malfea-
sance. Praeger.
Shupe, A. D., Jr. (1998). Wolves within the fold: Religious leadership and the abuse
of power. New Rutgers University Press.
Shupe, A. D., Jr. (2007). Spoils of the kingdom: Clergy misconduct and religious
community. University of Chicago Press.
Shupe, A. D., Jr., & Bromley, D. J. (1980). The new vigilantes: Deprogrammers,
anti-cultists, and the new religions. Sage.
Shupe, A. D., Jr., & Bromley, D. J. (Eds.). (1994). Anti-cult movements in cross-cul-
tural perspective. Garland.
Shupe, A. D., Jr., Stacey, W. A., & Darnell S. E. (Eds.). (2000). Bad pastors: Clergy
misconduct in modern America. NYU Press.
Shusterman, N. (2014). The French Revolution: Faith, desire, and politics.
Routledge.
Supreme Court of United States. (2006, February 21). Gonzales, Attorney General,
et al. v. O Centro Espirita Beneficente União do Vegetal et al. https://scholar.
google.com/scholar_case?case=7036734975431570669&hl=en&as_sdt=2006.
Tedeschi, E. (1989). Per una sociologia del millennio. David Lazzaretti: carisma
e mutamento sociale [For a sociology of the millennium. David Lazzaretti:
Charisma and social change]. Marsilio.
The Supreme People’s Procuratorate of the People’s Republic of China. (2017). 关于
办理组织、利用邪教组织破坏法律实施等刑事案件适用法律若干问题的解释 [Inter-
pretations on the issues concerning the application of laws in criminal cases relat-
ing to organizing and utilizing evil organizations to destroy law enforcement].
Spp.gov.cn. http://www.spp.gov.cn/zdgz/201701/t20170126_179794.shtml
Troeltsch, E. (1912). Die Soziallehren der christlichen Kirchen und Gruppen [The
social teachings of the Christian churches and groups]. J. G. B. Mohr.
U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California. (1990). Opinion
(Jensen J.). Case No. CR-88-0616 DLJ. United States v. Steven Fishman, 13
April 1990. 743 F.Supp. 713. http://www.leagle.com/xmlResult.aspx?xmldoc=
19901456743FSupp713_11345.xml&docbase=CSLWAR2-1986-2006.
Vargas Llosa, M. (1984). The war of the end of the world (H. R. Lane, Trans.).
Farrar Straus & Giroux.
Vargas Llosa, M. (2018). La españolita y el Príncipe Gurdjieff [The young Span-
iard and Prince Gurdjieff.] El País. https://elpais.com/elpais/2018/07/12/opin-
ion/1531421289_205020.html
Víctima del líder de la secta peruana [Victim of the leader of the Peruvian
sect]. (2018, July 8). Telecinco.es https://www.telecinco.es/vivalavida/secta-
p er u a n a- pat r ic i a- abu s o s - s ex u a le s - aya hu a s c a- pr i nc ip e - g u rdjief f _ 2 _
2591430124.html
Weber, M. (1904–1905). Die protestantische Ethik und der Geist des Kapitalismus
[The Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism]. Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft
und Sozialpolitik, 20, 1–54, and 21, 1–110.
Weber, M. (1906a, April 13). Kirchen und Sekten [Churches and sects] (Part one).
Frankfurter Zeitung, 50(102).
Weber, M. (1906b, April 15). Kirchen und Sekten [Churches and sects] (Part two).
Frankfurter Zeitung, 50(104).
Wessinger, C. L. (2017). The FBI’s “cult war” against the Branch Davidians. In
S. A. Johnson & S. Weitzman (Eds.), The FBI and religion: Faith and national
security before and after 9/11 (pp. 203–243). University of California Press.
Wright, S. A. (Ed.). (1995). Armageddon in Waco: Critical perspectives on the
Branch Davidian conflict. University of Chicago Press.
Wright, S. A., & Palmer, S. (2016). Storming Zion: Government raids on religious
communities. Oxford University Press.
Wright, S. A., & Richardson, J. T. (2011). Saints under siege: The Texas state raid
on the Fundamentalist Latter-Day Saints. NYU Press.
Xu, T. (2017, September 15–16). The comparison and dialogue of definitions of
cult between China and America. [Conference presentation]. The Question
of Xiejiao in China and the Case of the Church of Almighty God, University
of Hong Kong.
13 A Defense Expert Witness on
Ayahuasca
An Interview with José Carlos
Bouso
Beatriz Caiuby Labate
BEATRIZ LABATE: How did you start working as an expert witness in

ayahuasca cases?
JOSÉ CARLOS BOUSO: By chance, I guess. To conduct my studies here in
Spain, I had to interview a lot of people. I visited almost all the Daim-
ista communities and I met many ayahuasca users. After so many years,
I am more or less known in Spain within the ayahuasca world. In a
way, I’m considered an expert; a scientific expert on ayahuasca. As I am
deeply immersed in the scientific ayahuasca world, I have become rec-
ognized not only by those who take ayahuasca, but also by the lawyers
who represent such people. Some of these lawyers are ayahuasca users
themselves or support their cause. The first time I went to a trial was
with Dr. Jordi Riba. We both went. I had not yet begun working with
him at the Hospital de Sant Pau, but I had already undertaken, together
with Dr. Fábregas and the team that we formed for the purpose, the
most important research to date on long-term effects of ayahuasca use.
So we went, Dr. Riba as an expert in laboratory studies and myself as
an expert in studies of long-term effects, which is how we always went
to the trials until we ceased working together.
BL: What year was that?
JC: I think it was in 2006 or 2007. It was an administrative trial [juicio
administrativo]. It was the first time we had decided to take this kind
of action. Santo Daime asked the Spanish Agency of Medicine [Agencia
Española del Medicamento: AEM] for permission to import ayahuasca
since, although Santo Daime has religious status in Spain, it does not
have a license to import the sacrament [ayahuasca].
BL: Is that the Santo Daime church in Madrid?
JC: The national church is near Madrid. Different churches are found in
different parts of Spain. There is the national association to which all
the Spanish Daimistas are associated, those affiliated with the Span-
ish Santo Daime. Although now there are small Santo Daime com-
munities scattered in different places. I interviewed Juan Carlos de la
Cal and other Daimistas various times with the idea of beginning a
study similar to the Brazilian one in Spain. Before that I had conducted
222 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-14

A Defense Expert Witness on Ayahuasca 223
interviews several times with the UDV, but after almost two years I had
got nowhere, so I started talking to Santo Daime. They already knew
that we had conducted the study in Brazil, because part of it had been
undertaken in Mapiá. So, with myself as an expert in long-term studies
and Jordi as an expert in laboratory studies, we went to trial for the
first time, and lost the case. It was an administrative trial in which we
were part of the defense team. I don’t know if these are the exact terms
because I don’t remember the administrative procedures very well, but
I suppose that the state lawyer, who, in this case, is the equivalent of
a public prosecutor, requested a report from the Spanish Agency of
Medicine (AEM) in response to the reports by Jordi Riba and myself
that summarized the entire scientific literature available at the time,
accompanied by the results of our studies. Jordi had already published
some of his studies, the long-term studies with the UDV conducted
by [Charles] Grob’s team had been published, there were some studies
with animals, and a lot was known about DMT [Dimethyltryptamine].
There had been the work of [Stephen] Szára in the 1950s. In sum, there
was much less information than there is now but we each presented a
report with all the information available at the time, and these were
up against a report of just a couple of pages written by the technician
from the Spanish Agency of Medicine, in which almost nothing that
appeared matched reality.
BL: What did the government toxicologist say?
JC: The toxicologist’s report said that the active principles of ayahuasca
produce cardiotoxicity, arrhythmias, and pulmonary weakness (what-
ever that means), and that the said effects can last up to 60 days due
to the slow elimination of these active ingredients via the urine. Effects
that, obviously, have never been encountered. It was odd because he
was a technician from the Spanish Agency of Medicine, the same insti-
tution that had authorized the clinical trials by Jordi Riba that had
subsequently shown the low, if not zero, toxicity of ayahuasca on the
cardiovascular system. It is incredible that a technician from the Span-
ish Agency of Medicine could present a report without consulting stud-
ies authorized by the same agency. It is completely crazy because, in
the end, the judge accepted a report based on made-up information,
dismissing our own and, finally, the importation of the sacrament was
not authorized.
BL: My question is somewhat speculative, but what do you think the
motives are behind such a report? Is it ignorance, or laziness? Is it ide-
ological? A lack of time? A combination of everything?
JC: It’s a combination of everything. Basically it’s ignorance, reluctance
and, let’s be honest, stigma, with the bundle of prejudices that this
involves. Many people, including toxicological experts and judges,
tremble whenever they hear the words “drug” and/or “hallucinogens,”
and the fear of the unknown, I guess, skews their judgments. This is one
224 Beatriz Caiuby Labate
of the lessons we have learned now, not in the wake of that particular
trial, but as a result of other trials. So, little by little, we are learning to
design strategies.
BL: What have you done?
JC: The judges attach much more importance to the testimonies given by
public authorities than those given by private parties because there is
always a lurking suspicion that you are not impartial, as they are pay-
ing you, although we do not charge for these trials, or we do not always
charge. In the previous case, I think that the expert simply had no idea
what he was holding in his hands. He took the text from a pharma-
cology manual that made no mention of DMT, but probably talked
about LSD, and he mixed them up. He didn’t perform a bibliographic
search to review the literature. He jumbled together the little informa-
tion known then about the effects of hallucinogens and applied them to
ayahuasca. And, with all this incorrect information, the judge assem-
bled the arguments to issue a ruling not based on accurate evidence.
The expert who issued the report was absent, meaning that his argu-
ments could not be refuted. Since then, we advise the lawyers to request
the prosecution experts to be present at the trials, either in person or
via video conference.
BL: Were you just an expert witnesses at hearings or did you also send a
report?
JC: We were present and we also presented reports. In this specific case,
and in others, Dr. Josep Maria Fábregas was also present as an expert.
As I said earlier, Jordi’s report showed the results of the studies he was
conducting in Sant Pau, all authorized by the Spanish Agency of Med-
icine, many of whose results had also already been published. None
of the subjects of his experiments had suffered adverse reactions,
neither before nor after. When the experiments had concluded, the
medical tests showed no biomedical alterations. I wrote the reports
based on the information available at the time from long-term stud-
ies in which no neuropsychological or psychiatric disorders had been
found. I also used the results from the studies that we were doing in
Brazil, where we had likewise found no results indicating that long-
term ayahuasca consumption induces any kind of neurodegenerative
aftereffect, which is what worries them; whether it can eventually
produce neurotoxicity. Dr. Fábregas explained the experience of the
clinic run by himself in Brazil where drug addicts were treated with
ayahuasca.
BL: And what was the final ruling?
JC: The final ruling was to ban the importation of ayahuasca for use in
Santo Daime. This is very odd because the ruling was based, aside
from the report by the AEM technician, on a repealed law from 2004
stipulating that one of the plants containing ayahuasca (specifically B.
caapi) was banned. But, since this law was repealed three months after
being issued, it was no longer valid at the moment of the trial, nor does
it apply now. It was a trial plagued by judicial errors whose ruling still
remains in force today.
BL: Do you have anything to add about that first court experience? Was it
exciting? Were you worried about what to wear or how to speak? Did
you do it for pleasure, for ideological reasons? Did you feel you were
fighting the War on Drugs, or was it something colder, more objective?
JC: A trial is always a stressful experience, and it doesn’t get any easier with
time and practice. It forms part of my work for the ICEERS program
called the ADF (Ayahuasca Defense Fund). Personally, aside from the
fact that it’s my job within this program, it is my own way of bringing
about a change in drug policies. My reports and interventions, and I
firmly believe this, are all undertaken in the most objective way possi-
ble. For me, it is an exciting experience to go to trial, but not entirely in
a positive sense of the word. It causes me stress, though I also like it. In
the first trials I attended, Jordi Riba, J. M. Fábregas, and myself would
go; later, it depended on the lawyer and other things whether or not to
go alone. The truth is that going with colleagues always makes you feel
more secure. Jordi is always a reassuring presence, and with Fábregas,
you also have a fun time before entering the [court] room. Reassurance
and laughter combine well to settle the nerves. Dr. Constanza Sanchez,
coordinator of the ADF, and myself usually go now and, among our
achievements, along with the work of the lawyers and witnesses, of
course, is to have successfully paralyzed a court trial for possession
of mambe [toasted coca leaf] and made the prosecutor withdraw the
charges. They asked for four years in prison for two kilos of mambe, a
complete absurdity.
BL: Do you approach it theatrically? Do you see it as a rite? How do you see
the encounter, the scene of the trial? Is it like in a movie, or something
much simpler?
JC: No, it’s like a rite and a performance. At first, it felt like the day I
defended my doctoral thesis; now, less so. In a way, they are judging
your knowledge, with the difference that in a trial, at least in criminal
trials, your testimony matters in the judge’s final ruling, which may
imply years in prison. They are similar in that, in a trial, you are also
defending an academic thesis, a thesis based on the evidence gathered in
your own research and on the evidence assembled by other colleagues.
Equally, it is a full-fledged ritual in which, moreover, the actions of the
judge and the prosecutor are completely arbitrary, since they are based
on a topic on which they know nothing or not sufficiently informed,
even at a legal level. For example, ayahuasca is not controlled by con-
ventions, no matter how much DMT may be in it. So, possession of
ayahuasca, even in large quantities, is not a crime, at least in Spain.
Judges usually want to understand and know more, while prosecutors
look for holes in the arguments.
BL: It’s like a doctoral dissertation, but much more realistic, because the dis-
sertation environment is controlled. It’s fairly predictable, and nobody
will be significantly opposed to it, since various selection processes and
dialogs have already taken place before reaching that moment. A trial,
though, is like a test, but completely open, meaning that each person
involved can be highly unpredictable, with minimal cordiality and a
very large spectrum of possible responses, something like that?
JC: Yes, because in a doctoral dissertation, various academic rules apply.
True, you have passed some filters. The rules of the game, and the form
of representation, are clearer. You know that nobody is going to treat
you badly and you cannot treat anyone else badly. In a trial, the judge
and prosecutor can do whatever they want with you without having to
submit to any kind of authority. Over time, though, I’ve been devising
my own tricks, which I can tell you about if you wish. I remember a very
hard trial in a Mediterranean town in which I was defending a member
of an ayahuasca church for whom they had asked for I don’t know how
many years in prison after being arrested at the airport with ayahuasca.
It is the only time, in a trial, where I have realized the power that judges
possess to bypass any basic norm of civic behavior and demonstrate that
they are demigods; that, within the courtroom, they can do whatever
they please with nobody to control them. It was endlessly abusive treat-
ment from the moment I went through the door. The judge asked me:
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” And I just said, “my name
is José Carlos Bouso and I’m here because they called me as an expert.”
The conversation went something like this: “and who are you to say that
you are an expert on this topic?” So I would explain: “I’ve been doing
research on ayahuasca for more than ten years.” “Fine, fine, hurry up
and finish because we haven’t got all day.” The treatment was... well,
not just me, but all the witnesses were treated in humiliating fashion. It’s
good when trials are recorded and made public. In this case, though, it
was clear that the judge had circumvented all the rules, even preventing
the lawyer from proceeding with the testimonies, both his questions
to myself and those to the prosecution expert. But, fine, that was pal-
pable evidence of how anything can happen inside the courtroom and
the judge can do whatever he wants. If he wants to tell you to shut up,
he tells you to shut up, and if he wants to shut up the lawyer, he tells
the lawyer to shut up, and not always politely. He even talked on the
phone while we were testifying. It should be said, though, that the vast
majority of the time it hasn’t been like that and both the judges and the
prosecutors, male and female, have been very respectful.
BL: But I didn’t understand; in this case, the judge acquitted the defendant?
JC: In the end, he acquitted him, yes.
BL: So all this theater was a bit of a façade?
JC: Yes, probably. This was in a Mediterranean town in spring time. The
trials would end up delayed. We would enter at 2:30, and it seemed to
me that the judge was keen to get home to eat; he wanted to end the
trial as quickly as possible and, since there were many witnesses (there
were the experts, one via videoconference, one for the National Insti-
tute of Toxicology, and myself), the argument seemed to convince him
in the end: The argument that ayahuasca is not subject to international
control, maybe. I don’t know the reasons, but a trial that would nor-
mally have lasted an hour or so was settled in 10 or 15 minutes, with
eventual acquittal.
BL: You were going to say that you have developed a few tricks, what are
they?
JC: To be precise, rather than tricks, they are more like lessons. For me,
every trial has been a fascinating learning experience; both the trials
where you are treated well, which, like I said, have been the majority,
and the exceptions where they treat you somewhat less well. There is
one trial of which we are very proud, that of the La Maloka association,
in which the judge produced a fascinating verdict based on the interven-
tions of the experts. Doctors Riba and Fábregas were also there. Our
strategy was to work with the lawyers beforehand. Aside from prepar-
ing the questions that they would ask me and writing the expert report,
we worked on questions the prosecutors might ask and how to respond.
We already have a good database of questions and answers. We always
try to subpoena the expert from the prosecutor’s office, in other words,
the expert from the National Institute of Toxicology (INT) who issued
the report on the analysis of ayahuasca. In the La Maloka trial, for
example, when the judge asked us what ayahuasca was, we explained
that ayahuasca is a decoction of Banisteriopsis caapi, a vine that grows
in the Amazon rainforest, but the prosecution expert from the National
Institute of Toxicology had said that it was a decoction of Psychotria
viridis, confusing Banisteriopsis caapi with Psychotria viridis. He also
made some technical mistakes and there was a moment when, on hear-
ing me speak and then hearing Jordi speak, he said that he wasn’t really
an expert on ayahuasca: We were the ayahuasca experts and the ques-
tions that the court had to ask concerning ayahuasca should be directed
to us, not him. He was only there to testify about chemical analyses,
not about botanical or toxicity issues. Our strategy, therefore, is to
subpoena the expert from the National Institute of Toxicology so that
we avoid what happened at the Daime administrative trial, where there
had been only one report without the person who had written it being
present; thus, the report could not be refuted. But if there is a report
with the person present it can be refuted, and since, in criminal trials,
the defense lawyer has the reports of the prosecution, the National
Institute of Toxicology, and our own, we can prepare the defense so
that the technical errors contained in the public prosecutor’s report or
the administration’s report can be refuted. Finally, at all the recent tri-
als in which we were involved, we have asked for the [court] recordings.
This means that, should a technical error be made that later appears to
be reflected in the judge’s sentence, the sentence can be appealed. This
also helps us to prepare for future trials and [the recordings] can be
used in the future to train other expert witnesses. I have to remark that
I try to offer my testimony exclusively based on evidence, and with all
the objectivity that someone can have. I am not defending anybody, nor
ayahuascal I am just offering my testimony as a scientist.
BL: I didn’t understand your point very well, what is the trick per se?
JC: The trick isn’t a trick as such; as I said, it’s more of a strategy. I didn’t
really use the correct word earlier. The idea is that the lawyer always
asks for the presence of a technician from the National Institute of
Toxicology. Why? Because judges pay more attention to state prosecu-
tion experts than to defense’s experts. As the experts for the defendant,
their reports are seen as biased. The presence of state’s experts allows
us to refute their technical errors in front of the court.
BL: What are the main arguments to have emerged in the ayahuasca cases
in which you have participated?
JC: This is very particular to Spain because here, a minimum dose exists for
a drug to be considered toxic, according to which the dangerousness of
the substance is marked, and also a minimum amount for possession,
under which the amount is considered to be for one’s own consumption
and over which it is considered to be intended for trafficking. Con-
sumption by oneself is not prosecuted, nor is it considered trafficking.
Something we are repeatedly asked is whether there is a psychoactive
dose: What is the psychoactive dose of ayahuasca? This is a classic
question usually asked by prosecutors. You also need to know a bit
of legal language, because legislation, that is, the mentality of a judge
or prosecutor, equates psychoactive doses with toxic doses. This is
something that I realized during one trial. The first time I was asked
whether ayahuasca has a minimum psychoactive dose, I answered yes,
obviously. After my answer he said: “Fine, no more questions.” During
the final ritual, when the prosecutor presents his arguments for convic-
tion and the defense lawyer presents his arguments for acquittal, the
prosecutor argued that a conviction was necessary, among other rea-
sons, because “we know furthermore that the doses present in this aya-
huasca were toxic doses”—the minimum doses were toxic—and I was
puzzled; I said to myself, “of course, you cannot talk anymore, what
do you mean toxic doses? I didn’t say they were toxic, I said they were
psychoactive doses and psychoactivity has nothing to do with toxicity.”
This is something that, since I left that court, whenever they ask me
this question, I try to explain that actually the psychoactive dose is one
thing, but psychoactivity is not the same as toxicity. I then embark on
a whole line of argument, pharmacologically differentiating the mini-
mum psychoactive dose from the toxic dose, which, under the Spanish
legal system, are equivalent concepts. So, I explain that, in a scientific
and pharmacological language, they are different concepts and that
the difference between the minimum psychoactive dose and the toxic
dose is what is known as a safety margin. In the case of ayahuasca,
this margin is extremely broad; more than for any medically prescribed
psychopharmaceutical. Sometimes this type of detail is only learned
with practice, by trial and error. That’s why it’s so important to prepare
with the lawyers before the trials, to familiarize oneself with the legal
language. And that’s why it’s so important to compile a database of
questions. Not because you want to trick the court, which, indeed, is a
crime, but to ensure that knowledge is correctly translated.
BL: Can you go into more detail on how you explain what the psychoactive
dose is and whether there is a toxic dose for ayahuasca?
JC: We know from laboratory studies that 0.5 mg doses of DMT per kilo-
gram of weight already produce an effect. Since we have the analyses
of the DMT and harmaline detected in the various samples, we know
what the concentration of the confiscated samples is. Before, they could
not be detected; but now, they can. If they ask you, you know that
so many milliliters of ayahuasca is already a psychoactive dose, but
that psychoactivity does not mean that it produces toxicity. Psycho-
activity means that it has an effect at the level of the nervous system
and produces psychological effects, but that isn’t accompanied by any
physiological damage and such is true for all drugs. For all medica-
tions, a difference exists between the active dose, the bioactive dose,
and the toxic dose. Doctors give us medications that are bioactive, but
this does not mean that they cause harm. On the contrary, they cure
us. We know that taking a gram of paracetamol when you have a head-
ache will take away the pain without causing you liver damage, but
if you take 20 grams it can kill you. Hence, 1 gram of paracetamol is
obviously an active dose, but, equally obviously, it is not toxic, unless
you have preexisting liver damage, of course. I don’t know, it’s such
basic knowledge that anyone who has reflected for a moment on the
question knows it. Well, it turns out that under Spanish legislation, this
difference is nonexistent. It’s surreal, but that’s how it is. So, I usually
give examples of drugs that are widely used and try to avoid compar-
isons with other drugs, such as heroin or alcohol. I usually look for
drugs used in everyday medical practice, like paracetamol or ibuprofen,
commonly used drugs that everyone knows, including members of the
court, in order to explain the difference.
BL: And why do you avoid comparisons with illegal drugs?
JC: In order to move as far as possible from the image of ayahuasca as a
drug. If you start to compare it with alcohol, for example, you continue
to sustain the discourse that ayahuasca is a drug, and moreover that it
is toxic, because alcohol’s image is strongly associated with toxicity. I
don’t use benzodiazepines as examples either, since they can lead to
abuse. I try to keep the concepts of toxicity, drugs and abuse out of the
court’s mind. There are strong data that support that ayahuasca is not a
drug of abuse, so I don’t see the reason to use alcohol as a comparison.
That’s why I usually provide examples of pharmaceutical drugs that
everyone takes from time-to-time to treat common ailments. If I ven-
ture into the field of psychoactivity, I talk about antidepressants, which
have no potential for abuse and which serve to treat mental problems,
not to generate them. So, our strategy is always to give examples of
drugs that work to improve health, with low toxicity and without the
potential for abuse, since they are more related with what ayahuasca
actually does.
BL: Excellent. That’s great José Carlos, very interesting.
JC: It doesn’t always work. Sometimes the prosecutor wants to push aya-
huasca into the field of “drugs,” especially in relation to psychoactivity.
The dialectical exchange is sometimes difficult; they always have more
experience than you and are in a situation of power, and you have to go
prepared for it. As I say, it is not a question of arguing that ayahuasca
is harmless. It is a question of remaining objective and trying to explain
that legal, popular, and toxicological languages are not always inter-
changeable and a degree of translation is needed.
BL: And what are the other major issues that always appear?
JC: Undoubtedly, the key issue and the most difficult issue is the question
of hallucinations. This is the big issue, whether [ayahuasca] produces
hallucinations and whether it can produce psychiatric disorders. This
is the trickiest subject because if it produces hallucinations it is imme-
diately equated with mental illness. I usually respond that we are all
accustomed to experiencing hallucinations every night when we go to
sleep.
BL: You speak of dreams as hallucinations?
JC: I speak of dreams as hallucinations and say that the effects of aya-
huasca are like a lucid dream in which the person is awake and has con-
trol over it. Sometimes I’m more successful than others, depending on
how the explanation proceeds on the day. It’s a slippery terrain. I try to
explain that a hallucination, from the viewpoint of clinical psychology,
does not necessarily imply pathology and that that is precisely what our
studies demonstrate where we evaluated ayahuasca users and found no
evidence of psychiatric disorders. We also showed that there are other
phenomena in which hallucinations can be produced, as in the case of
meditation. And that the word “hallucination” has a different meaning
in popular language from its meaning in clinical psychology. I provide
the explanations of which I’m capable or that the court permits me
to make. If they ask me, I never deny that ayahuasca induces altered
states of consciousness. I simply try to explain that altered states of
consciousness are a common experience in all individuals, the most
familiar of which are dreams, and that there are even accepted psy-
chological techniques, like hypnosis, in which altered states are used.
The basic idea is to de-pathologize hallucinations, without getting into
the topic of whether ayahuasca produces them or not. I emphasize that
I don’t deny the fact because it is a clear effect of ayahuasca and deny-
ing an evident effect is not only a crime, it undermines the credibility
of the testimony. And credibility is the basis of any expert’s testimony.
BL: Comparison with dreams follows from the previous idea of drawing
analogies that are less harmful, that are less uncomfortable in people’s
minds, something like that?
JC: Yes, the idea is to educate a little bit about the term “hallucination”
along the lines sketched in the previous answer: The word hallucination
does not have the same meaning in everyday language as in psychiatry.
Jurists know that there are technical legal terms whose meaning is very
different in their legal language compared to everyday speech. I explain
that the same applies to psychology and that hallucinations, from a
clinical point of view, do not necessarily have a pejorative connota-
tion. Throughout history, and in many cultures, hallucinations have
not been pathological phenomena but cognitive processes used for the
wellbeing of the individual and the community, and it’s this kind of
hallucination that ayahuasca usually produces.
BL: Ah, okay. It’s something more generic then?
JC: Of course. The same happens in the area of clinical psychology. There
are concepts or terms that, from a clinical point of view, are not con-
sidered equal. For instance, hallucinations in everyday language always
have a pejorative connotation absent in the clinical world and increas-
ingly less so, because cognitive processes are understood not as a ques-
tion of all or nothing, but rather as a continuous phenomenon. The
prime example are dreams, but in stress situations, too, people may
hear voices, or have daydreams when they are very tired. It isn’t neces-
sarily something associated with a pathological process or something
that will develop into a pathology.
BL: And the issue of psychotic outbreaks and psychiatric problems, is this
debated?
JC: Of course. To begin with, I never talk about hallucinogenic effects,
I talk about psychoactive effects. I try to introduce as few technical
terms as possible because every time you use a technical term, you can
generate confusion. If someone talks about hallucinations, I’m not the
one who brings up the subject. If the prosecutor brings up the subject, I
give my explanation, I stick to the question of psychoactive effects and
don’t go any further. In fact, the issue of whether [ayahuasca] produces
hallucinations does not always come up. Sometimes it simply passes
by unremarked. Just like the subject of psychotic outbreaks, it doesn’t
always crop up; sometimes, it’s not mentioned, though sometimes it
appears. When it is brought up, my usual answer is that existing studies
conclude that the psychopathological status of the users in our studies
is at least as good as the control subjects, and that rates of psychiatric
disorders among people who take ayahuasca are actually below those
of the general population. And if they pursue the topic, I then contex-
tualize the adverse effects.
BL: What is the debate concerning the negative effects?
JC: The reports of the prosecution experts always highlight the fact that
ayahuasca produces vomiting and diarrhea as side effects, because it is
an intoxication. Here the explanation is the most classic: People usually
experience the vomiting as something pleasant and in no instance is it
like food or toxic poisoning. It cannot be compared to food poisoning
because when you have food poisoning you feel debilitated, you need
to rest and cannot do anything. Here, by contrast, a kind of cleansing
of the body is involved and a symbolic meaning is attached to the vom-
iting. The reality is that this intoxication isn’t like that because people
can subsequently dance, as in the case of Santo Daime, or they can
continue with the ceremony and do not feel sick, quite the opposite.
BL: So, in this case, do you adopt the same strategy of avoiding a compari-
son with food poisoning just as you do with alcohol intoxication?
JC: Yes, with food poisoning, yes. And then, I explain that ayahuasca is
probably so frequently used in the rainforest because it serves to clear
out intestinal parasites and this produces more medical benefits than
harm.
BL: On one hand, you compare ayahuasca with legal medicines and on the
other, with food. So it would appear to be on the interface between
medicine, drugs, and food; a meeting of various paradigms. What else
do toxicologists usually say?
JC: They don’t understand the active mechanism very well—and it’s fine
that they don’t—whereby you need MAOIs [monoamine oxidase
inhibitors] for the DMT to produce effects. I say that it’s okay not to
fully understand it because they tend to dwell on the small percentage
of DMT in the decoctions. That’s fine, because eventually, in many
cases, it ends up being determined that the quantities involved are
very low, around 0.05%, when the courts are used to dealing with
substances in which the purities can range from 30, 40, 50 to 90%.
So, of course, a substance that has a 0.05% purity, in the mind of a
judge who is deciding whether to send someone to jail or not, gener-
ates a conflict.
BL: Now you are specifically discussing the problem of concentrations?
JC: Yes, because it is one of the things that usually emerges in the trials.
BL: Can you explain a little more about what they say and how you respond?
JC: This happens when they try to understand the effect of ayahuasca. It
is not always easy to explain that MAOI blocks endogenous MAO. I
can cite the example of a judge or a prosecutor who says to me: “So
then, would this injection produce an effect?” This is the best question
they can ask you because nobody would inject ayahuasca. Medications
that come in injectable form have to comply with aseptic conditions,
otherwise there is more risk of dying from an infection than from the
substance that you’re introducing into the organism. It makes no sense
for anyone to inject ayahuasca. How much ayahuasca does someone
need to drink to become poisoned? I also tell them that compounds
containing ayahuasca produce so few dangerous effects at a physi-
ological level that the person would die from intoxication from the
excess liquid sooner than from any poisoning produced by the active
ingredients.
BL: But this issue of the concentrations is itself something you always hear
from ayahuasca folks. As the percentage of DMT is very low, the logic
of the users is to say that there is little DMT.
JC: Yes, but in many cases, this logic of the users also ends up being the
logic of the judges: They consider the fact that there is little DMT,
which is the reality, and very often the basis of the judgment, regardless
of the effects that this DMT may actually produce.
BL: What would an opposite explanation be?
JC: To say that although the concentrations are low, the combination with
the harmalines means that the dose has sufficient effects, and here you
could cite examples, if you wished to be an expert witness for the pros-
ecution. Ultimately, it is not a question of a higher or lower concen-
trations; it is a question of the potency of the concentration involved.
Depending on the case, either the quantity or the effect is judged. Each
thing requires its own specific explanation.
BL: But the fact is that a low concentration creates a favorable image for
someone not very well informed, whether a judge or a user, who per-
ceives it as something positive. In reality, though, from a scientific point
of view, this is incorrect because the concentration is not low, it is a
sufficient or necessary amount.
JC: Sure, it’s not a question of high or low, it’s a question of what is there
to produce the effect. From the user’s point of view too, it is somewhat
ingenuous to think that a low concentration is involved. Were that the
case, they would recognize that they were being duped every time they
took ayahuasca. They were being tricked by not being given a sufficient
dose. This is somewhat paradoxical and is repeated by many of the
accused, who come to tell you: “No, the thing is, the concentration of
my ayahuasca was such-and-such, it was a very low concentration,”
and you reply: “What are you trying to tell me? That the ayahuasca
that you use has no effect?” But well, this is what you tell them so that
you don’t create any false ideas about what you’re about. Anyway, from
a toxicological point of view, even a high dose is a dose with a low risk
of physical harm.
BL: You have not mentioned the issue of whether ayahuasca is DMT. This
is a topic that comes up a lot, right?
JC: Yes, this is something that is mentioned a lot. We constantly insist that,
both from a pharmacological point of view, and from all the cultural
aspects that surround them, ayahuasca and DMT have nothing to do
with each other. In various aspects they are unrelated.
BL: And there do you discuss the issue that ayahuasca is not controlled
by the INCB or do you get into a more technical discussion about the
different forms of administration, the different effects? How do you
proceed?
JC: I usually begin with the pharmacological aspects and the psycholog-
ical effects produced by DMT. First, it needs to be prepared in order
to extract the DMT from its plant source, and this is what leads to it
being banned; but, contained within its plant source and without being
prepared, it is not controlled by the conventions. Preparing and extract-
ing it from its plant source removes many of the properties found in
its botanical state. It makes it much more potent, with clearer effects,
but even so, the clinical studies conducted with DMT have found no
negative effects. When DMT was banned, the decision was not based
on any scientific study. All the scientific studies indicate that it does
not cause abuse and, indeed, the proof is that in police reports of sei-
zures made each year, DMT never appears. If that’s the case of DMT,
then for ayahuasca, which has more suave, milder effects—since it is
accompanied by other compounds within the plant that modulate its
effect—they are simply not comparable. Even so, I still argue that DMT
is not dangerous enough to be on the lists either.
BL: What do you think are the general stances of the judges and promot-
ers in the ayahuasca cases? Are they based on prejudice and a lack of
knowledge or is there a genuine interest to protect public health?
JC: I think the surprising thing is that judges who carry cases of drug traf-
ficking or crimes against public health are used to dealing with danger-
ous or delinquent people. In the case of large quantities, we are talking
about powerful drug dealers, and in the case of those who deal or sell
on the street, people who live on the margins of society or on the mar-
gins of the law always, with a disorderly life and everything. Here, they
think they will find similar cases and I think the surprise comes when
they meet perfectly normal and ordinary people, integrated, who come
to court with their group of colleagues and pals, who demonstrate that
they are good people. Sometimes they may seem a little eccentric, like
when all the Daimistas turn up and start singing at the court door, and
experts who come to say that this isn’t so bad and then you add the fact
that the INCB reports say that it is not controlled and furthermore the
experts from the National Institute of Toxicology recognize that the
defense experts know more about the subject... Well, it’s a conglom-
erate, a combination of all these factors, which I think has ultimately
meant that all the judgments so far have been acquittals.
BL: In general, do you believe that it is a lack of knowledge, rather than
prejudice or a moralistic or prohibitionist view? Is it more a question of
ignorance and lacking prior references?
JC: Among those cases in which I have been involved, I think that the only
one where there was clear prejudice was in the Santo Daime adminis-
trative trial, where the judge made it very clear that he was not going to
permit importation. In some cases, there has been a clear lack of inter-
est, like the trial I told you about earlier in a Mediterranean town. In
other cases, a lot of interest in learning more has been shown by both
judges and prosecutors. That includes the trial to which Constance and
I went involving mambe [coca leaf], where the prosecutor withdrew
the charges. That was something unusual, we had never seen it before.
I think that, above all, it is ignorance and a stark contrast between the
reality of the trials in which drug traffickers or common criminals are
judged, and the trials in which they judge ayahuasca users who have
nothing in common with the former, nor the people who accompany
them, and all of this, I think, has a pronounced influence.
BL: Is there a case that is your favorite or a favorite moment in your own
performance, or some paradigmatic case that you liked the most?
JC: One case that made history was the Chile trial, and another was La
Maloka, in which Jordi, Fábregas, and I were involved. It made history
because the judge’s sentence was very well argued; she had taken a long
time and gathered all the arguments of the experts and the defense
lawyer, too. As a case of personal satisfaction, the Alicante trial of a
woman who I had met at a seminar years before. She had been a stu-
dent, a very normal person, it was obvious that she was not committing
any crime. There have been cases in which we have defended people
whom I have not felt entirely comfortable defending, but that isn’t typ-
ical. In most cases, you only see the defendant a short while before the
trial; but, in the ADF, there are ethical criteria that need to be met in
order for us to support them in trials; you don’t defend just anyone who
asks for it.
BL: What is the case of personal satisfaction and why?
JC: The case of this young woman, because she had been suffering tre-
mendously for two years, living in anguish. That day, I felt especially
at ease in court, my answers flowed and my speech went well, and
the outcome was positive. Due to my feelings and satisfaction with the
performance—as you call it—it was, above all, special because ques-
tions arose... But I don’t know, it’s a feeling of having performed well
that day and thinking that I had done something good not just for a
particular person, but also for the system.
BL: And what was the most out-of-context question, bizarre or annoying,
that a judge or prosecutor has asked you?
JC: First, was that judge from the trial in a Mediterranean town: “Who
are you and what are you doing here?” As if I had sneaked into the
trial, and then the prosecutor’s question: “What would happen if you
injected ayahuasca? Given that DMT is not activated orally.” That was
another grotesque question.
BL: To conclude, can you comment on the relation between the media and
these cases?
JC: The only time we have boasted of having won a trial was with the
mambe case. It deserved to be made public. We are clear about aya-
huasca not being controlled, but coca leaf is, and people coming from
countries where powdered coca leaf is traditional find themselves at
risk of going to jail for carrying a few kilos of coca leaves with them.
The paradox is that, in Spain, the limit separating personal possession
from trafficking for cocaine is 9 grams and, in many cases, the amount
of cocaine contained in the coca leaf that is confiscated is well below
that amount.
BL: And why don’t you do the same with the other cases?
JC: Because we are learning little by little. It’s like I said earlier, every trial
is a learning process. Before, we didn’t give it much importance; I didn’t
give it any importance. In fact, only the trials that I have gone to since
the ADF began are recorded. Before, it was just part of my job; they
call you, you go to a trial, you testify, and you leave. We’d never given
it much importance. We did so with the mambe case because a regional
newspaper picked up the story. I guess we are learning little by little
that we need to learn how to publicize these small victories.
BL: What’s your impression of what is happening with ayahuasca in Europe
legally speaking? Where do you think we are heading?
JC: I think we’re heading in a bad direction. The upsurge in ayahuasca cer-
emonies is huge throughout Europe and it increasingly appears in the
media. I think there has been a return to persecutions in Spain; right
now [at the time of the interview], there are two people in prison, after
arrests had ceased for a couple of years. This has to do with reports
that have appeared in the mainstream media on television. Depending
on the government in office, I believe that one day, without further
violence or police persecution, ayahuasca will be added to the list of
prohibited drugs, and that will be it. My outlook on the matter is quite
pessimistic.
BL: Can you give us an idea of how many arrests are made in Spain? Why
are there so many arrests in Spain compared to other countries in the
world?
We don’t know the—exact figure and, moreover, we don’t receive
anywhere near all the cases. Although we are increasingly well known,
we probably still only know about a small portion of the arrests. But
we have begun receiving more cases again over the last couple of years.
In relation to why there are more arrests in Spain, that’s because Spain
is one of the European countries with the most “tradition” in aya-
huasca use. The first country outside America where ayahuasca arrived
was Spain. It may also be the case that there are more arrests in Spain
because the country is a gateway for other drugs, such as cocaine, and
there are more stringent controls. It is also possible that we know more
cases in Spain simply because we are based here, although I believe that
there are indeed more arrests for the reasons mentioned.
BL: And what legal precautions would you recommend to people who per-
form ayahuasca ceremonies?
JC: In legal terms, discretion and good practice. They should be aware that
every time someone arrives with ayahuasca, or every time someone
receives a package with ayahuasca, it may cause them problems. I hav-
en’t many tips to give.1
BL: Is there anything that we haven’t covered in the interview that you think
is important about your work as an expert in ayahuasca defense cases?
JC: With our experience, it would be good to undertake some kind of
training for experts. Also, we could meet with technicians from the
National Institute of Toxicology so that, when they are cited as experts,
their knowledge about ayahuasca is based on what is known scien-
tifically, and the reports become increasingly better documented. It
remains frustrating that a judge gives more credibility to a badly pro-
duced report than a well-produced report just because one comes from
the prosecution and the other from the defense.
BL: Is there any plan to provide training for lawyers?
JC: I think it would be good. The fact is that not all lawyers like to bring
experts. The lawyers are very jealous. In Spain, we work with two or
three lawyers, no more. They have their own ways of being and do not
like you to give them advice. It’s not always easy working with lawyers.
I’m not talking about the lawyers with whom we usually work, our
work together is close and excellent. Outside of here, there are many
lawyers who are highly resistant to any kind of recommendation. The
cases we have received here in Spain have involved lawyers who work
with us because we are colleagues, we know each other, but it is not
easy for a lawyer to come to us or the ADF for help. They believe they
are more than capable of sorting it out for themselves. I can understand
that there is a kind of professional zeal, but well, I don’t know, there
have been cases in which lawyers didn’t know what the INCB had said
in its reports, lawyers who had no idea about the legality of ayahuasca.
That is also a reality. It is not always easy to work with some lawyers.
BL: Okay, great.
JC: Thanks Bia.
Note
1 Note of the Editor: For more information, also consult: http://chacruna.net/
ayahuasca-legal-harm-reduction/.
Afterword
A Call for Public Support against
the Current Demonization of
Ayahuasca Practices in Spain1
Beatriz Caiuby Labate, Henrique Fernandes
Antunes, Glauber Loures de Assis and
Clancy Cavnar
It is undeniable that we are living a psychedelic renaissance with a
g rowing interest in the use of psychoactive plants, not only in Indige-
nous, religious, or neoshamanic contexts, but also in their therapeutic use
(Labate & Cavnar, 2021a). This renaissance is associated, among other
factors, with the world ayahuasca diaspora (Labate & Jungaberle, 2011;
Labate et al., 2017; Labate & Cavnar, 2018), the global expansion of
ayahuasca religions, and the insertion of Indigenous groups in urban aya-
huasca circuits in South America and beyond. However, an increasing
backlash has also emerged.
Its presence can be seen in the repercussions of the case of a YouTuber
who infiltrated a Santo Daime group in Spain for nine months. During
this period, he used a hidden camera to film private ceremonies without
authorization. This YouTuber edited these recordings and published a very
sensationalist and self-promotional video that garnered almost 600,000
views. He also filed a complaint for attempted kidnapping after being dis-
covered by one of the members. Since then, he has been invited onto several
TV shows, where he accused the Santo Daime of being a dangerous sect
that brainwashes people and provides a number of illicit drugs without any
health or safety precautions. In addition to the repercussion of the case, the
public perception of ayahuasca got progressively worse, as raids and arrests
of members of two neoshamanic groups took place shortly after.
These circumstances have reignited the debate about the use of the bever-
age in the country, led by the sensationalist media coverage that frequently
ignores the scientific data readily available. The allegations are the same:
Ayahuasca groups are sects that use dangerous drugs to manipulate their
adepts (or “targets”), commonly described as fragile and gullible people,
for financial gain. The emergence of ayahuasca as a public health and safety
issue, however, is not limited to the case of Spain. In March 2022, the
Italian Ministry of Health issued a decree banning ayahuasca and its com-
ponent plants, as well as its active constituents (Berazaluce, 2022a, 2022b,
2022c). The Italian government’s decision took Santo Daime members in
the country by surprise, forcing them to hold their ceremonies drinking
water instead of ayahuasca as a form of protest, as the União do Vegetal did
in the United States during their court case.
Italy followed a similar approach to France. In 2005—just three months
after the acquittal of a Santo Daime group in Paris who were accused of con-
suming and trafficking illicit substances—the French government, through
the Ministry of Health, banned ayahuasca and the plants used in its mak-
ing. In 2019, the leader of the same Santo Daime group acquitted in 2005
was arrested again. He was released on bail after being detained for four
days. He is currently awaiting his trial, and he could be sentenced to several
years in prison. In the French case, the ban of ayahuasca was assisted by the
contribution of the MIVILUDES, the governmental Inter-Ministerial Mis-
sion for Monitoring and Combating Cultic Deviances (dérives sectaires),
whose representative gave a presentation on ayahuasca during the meeting
of The Commission of Narcotic Drugs that established the prohibition of
ayahuasca in France (Bourgogne, 2011; Novaes & Moro, in this volume).
This unique partnership shows that ayahuasca is perceived and portrayed
by public authorities not only as a health risk but as a dangerous social
movement with sectarian tendencies. They suspect not only ayahuasca the
drink, but the practices of ayahuasca groups themselves, without present-
ing any substantial evidence to support their claims. We cannot fail to men-
tion the prohibition of ayahuasca by the Dutch courts in 2018, after almost
two decades of the decision that allowed the religious use of ayahuasca by
a Santo Daime church in the country (ICEERS, 2018).
Amid this scenario of arrests, prosecutions, sensationalist reports, and
the dissemination of fear, distrust, and misinformation, it is necessary to
approach the subject in a judicious way, leaving aside prejudices and pre-
conceptions. It is crucial in a moment like this to analyze the accumulated
knowledge on the subject of the religious use of ayahuasca (Labate et al.,
2008), as well as to understand the contexts in which the regulation of the
brew has occurred successfully, creating public policy models that can be
studied and adopted in other sociocultural contexts.
Despite the growing interest in ayahuasca in recent decades, its ritual use
dates back to centuries ago. In fact, the first historical records of ayahuasca
in the Amazon region date back to the late seventeenth century (Antunes,
2011). Historically, the Amerindian use of ayahuasca, present in Brazil,
Peru, Bolivia, Colombia, Venezuela, and Ecuador, had several uses. Aya-
huasca has been used to facilitate communication with spiritual realms and
to explore relationships with the fauna and the flora of the environment.
Shamans often drank it to diagnose and cure illnesses. It was also used for
divinatory purposes. Ayahuasca was vital not only in shamanic practices;
it was also a significant part of the sociocultural life of several Indigenous
Amazonian ethnic groups (Luna, 1986).
The use of ayahuasca has not only been historically important for the
Indigenous populations of the Amazon forest; it holds still a crucial role in
Afterword 241
identity and territorial processes, and in the development of organized so-
cial movements to preserve the forest and its traditions. This happened not
only in Colombia, with the creation of an Indigenous association focused
on the use of yagé, but also in Brazil, where a number of Indigenous ethnic
groups established a political alliance to strengthen their cause regarding
the Indigenous uses of ayahuasca. Since 2017, these groups have organized
several Indigenous conferences on the subject “The Representatives of the
Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley” (2020a, 2020b, 2020c, 2022).
In countries like Colombia and Peru, besides the Indigenous use of
ayahuasca, there is also a form of folk medicine based on psychoactive
plants, chants, and diets. These folk healers are called vegetalistas (Dobkin
de Rios, 1972; Luna, 1986). Their practice is mainly found among rural
populations who retained elements of ancient Indigenous knowledge about
plants while absorbing some influences from European esotericism and ur-
ban environments. Particularly in Brazil, there was the unique development
of a religious phenomenon centered on non-Indigenous populations who
consumed ayahuasca, known as Santo Daime, Barquinha, and União do
Vegetal. These religious groups, founded between the 1930s and 1960s,
have reinterpreted local traditions with a strong influence of Christianity,
incorporating elements of Amazonian shamanism, folk Catholicism, Afri-
can-Brazilian traditions, and Kardecist spiritism, among other traditions
(Labate, 2004). These groups have expanded throughout the early 1980s to
some of Brazil’s major cities. In the early 1990s, these groups expanded to
Europe and North America, mainly because of the influence of foreigners
who discovered ayahuasca in Brazil and wanted to establish branches in
their home countries.
In addition to ayahuasca religions, anthropology has been noting, in re-
cent decades, the emergence of new modalities of ayahuasca consumption
in urban centers (Labate, 2004). Among the new uses, there is the use of
ayahuasca in meditation sessions, in the treatment of drug addiction, in
psychotherapy sessions, for artistic inspiration, and in group therapies. It is
also possible to point out the intersection of ayahuasca with Afro-Brazilian
religions and neoshamanism. The reinvention of the use of ayahuasca and
the emergence of neoayahuasquero groups is part of the social and cultural
process that unfolded during the expansion of ayahuasca religions. These
elements circulated, mingling with the vegetalistas and Indigenous people
in the large cities of South America where Amazonian traditions met local
urban practices in a process that has led to alliances, exchanges, and new
forms of ayahuasca use.
Although ayahuasca use by non-Indigenous people is a relatively new
phenomenon, its development is associated with the emergence of a certain
type of religiosity characteristic of urban centers, creating new networks,
such as the neo-esoteric and therapeutic networks, that have gained their
own autonomy within the New Age universe. On the other hand, many of
these groups present an affiliation or some kind of connection to traditional
ayahuasca religions, or to Indigenous groups, forming an intersection be-
tween urban networks and the traditional Amazonian uses of ayahuasca.
In Brazil, the Federal Council on Narcotic Drugs (CONFEN) presented
a report that found no evidence that the religious use of ayahuasca posed
health risks or social harms (CONFEN, 1987). In the following decades, the
public policies on ayahuasca moved progressively toward the recognition of
the religious use of ayahuasca as a religious and cultural phenomenon pro-
tected by the Brazilian Constitution (MacRae, 2014; Antunes, 2019). In an
historical decision involving scholars, scientists, jurists, public authorities,
and representatives of the ayahuasca religions, the National Council on
Drug Policy recognized the religious freedom of the use of ayahuasca in
Brazil (CONAD, 2006, 2010). In the 2000s, the initiation of a process to
recognize the religious use of ayahuasca as an “intangible heritage” of Bra-
zilian culture, established by the Institute for National Historical and Ar-
tistic Heritage (IPHAN), marked an important change in Brazil. Ayahuasca
would no longer be an object of drug policies; instead, it entered the realm
of affirmative policies, attesting to recognition by the Brazilian government
of the historical and cultural value of the religious use of ayahuasca in Bra-
zil (Labate, 2010; Antunes, 2019; Labate & Assis, in this volume).
We must also highlight Peru’s recognition of ayahuasca as national
cultural heritage. The heritage safeguarding in the Peruvian case aims to
protect traditional and Indigenous uses of ayahuasca in the country. In Co-
lombia, although there is no formal regulation of ayahuasca, various at-
tempts at self-regulation have been made by Indigenous peoples, as well as
administrative rulings legitimizing the use of yagé. Traditional Indigenous
medicine and the Indigenous use of yagé became part of the country’s cul-
tural heritage policy directives in 2009 (Labate & Assis, in this volume).
There was also the creation of the Union of Indigenous Yagé Medics of the
Colombian Amazon (UMIYAC). The Union developed The Code of Ethics
for the Practice of Indigenous Medicine in the Amazon Piedmont of Colom-
bia (UMIYAC, 2000), establishing a number of guidelines to prevent the
commodification of traditional forms of yagé use (Caicedo Fernández, in
this volume). This self-regulatory measure was not an isolated case; on the
contrary, it was preceded by the Declaration of Principles of the Religious
Groups who Consume the Tea Hoasca, produced by ayahuasca groups in
conversation with Brazilian authorities in the early nineties (Núcleo de Es-
tudos Interdisciplinares sobre Psicoativos [NEIP], 2017). In Spain, the first
activist group created around ayahuasca produced a similar initiative (Plan-
taforma para la Defensa de la Ayahuasca, 2009). Years later, UMIYAC
published the Declaration from the Spiritual Authorities, Representatives,
and Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon Region (UMIYAC, 2019).
These cases prove not only the cultural and historical value of the use of
ayahuasca, but they also demonstrate that it has a central role for a number
of Indigenous and religious groups, not only socially and culturally, but
also as a contemporary form of political expression.
Afterword 243
Besides the important contributions of Indigenous groups and ayahuasca
religions to advance the political agenda for the regulation of ayahuasca,
NGOs, research institutes, and a number of scholars have also promoted the
responsible use of ayahuasca and demanded its recognition. In that regard,
one must highlight the Statement on Ayahuasca (Anderson et al., 2012), the
Manual de Recomendaciones para el uso de la Ayahuasca (Gabriell, 2021),
the Ayahuasca-Good Practices Guide (ICEERS, 2014), and the Ayahuasca
Technical Report 2021 (ICEERS, 2021). The Chacruna Institute for Psyche-
delic Plant Medicines has also played an important role, not only through
the development of The Council for the Protection of Sacred Plants, but
also by publishing important guidelines for ayahuasca groups, such as 7
Best Practices for Ayahuasca Legal Harm Reduction, and the Guide to Re-
ligious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) and Best Practices for Psychedelic
Plant Medicine Churches. These initiatives are part of a collective effort to
spread awareness about the responsible use of ayahuasca and to bridge the
gaps between government, academia, and ayahuasca groups.
Besides these innovative examples, there are other important cases re-
garding the regulation of the religious use of ayahuasca outside South
America. In the United States, the União do Vegetal and a branch of Santo
Daime won the right to use ayahuasca in a religious context. The Supreme
Court established a ruling in 2006 attesting that the federal government
could not produce any evidence that the religious use of ayahuasca posed
health or safety risks for its users, nor for the country. The Supreme Court,
therefore, granted União do Vegetal the right to import and consume aya-
huasca. Two years later, a Santo Daime branch in Oregon had a similar
victory. Since these rulings, no legal issues have arisen in the country re-
garding União do Vegetal nor the Santo Daime branch. Sometime after, the
Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) established an application pro-
cess for groups that want to obtain a legal exemption for the religious use
of ayahuasca. Canada has also granted five exemptions allowing groups to
practice their religion without legal restrictions (Rochester, 2017). The first
two exemptions were granted in 2017 by Health Canada to Santo Daime
and União do Vegetal. So far, the majority of exemptions were given to
branches of Brazilian ayahuasca religions; ironically, the same groups that
are now targeted as dangerous sects in some European countries.
These examples highlight that ayahuasca can be successfully regulated,
not only in countries where it’s use is part of the cultural practices of tra-
ditional populations, but also in very different social, cultural, and eco-
nomic settings. The cases in South America, and the exemptions granted
in the United States and Canada, are proof that compromises can be made;
that there are possible ways to successfully regulate the use of ayahuasca,
not only protecting the rights of ayahuasca groups and traditional popu-
lations, but also creating codes of ethics and guidelines for its responsible
use. We should not fail to note that the International Narcotics Control
Board (INCB) has declared that ayahuasca is not subject to international
control, an involved discussion that we will not get into here (see Tupper
and Labate, 2012).
It is also important to note that União do Vegetal contributed directly to
the first biomedical research on the use of ayahuasca, the Hoasca Project,
in 1993. The project compared the physical and psychological health of sev-
eral members of União do Vegetal with ten years or more of ayahuasca use
and a control group that had never taken ayahuasca. After several tests, the
researchers concluded that there was no evidence that the use of ayahuasca
in a ceremonial context presented any risks for ayahuasca users. This trail-
blazing project served as inspiration for a number of research projects that
focus on the therapeutic potential of ayahuasca (Labate & Cavnar, 2014,
2021b). Some recent double-blind research has shown that ayahuasca could
be useful for treating certain treatment-resistant diagnoses, such as depres-
sion, drug addiction, post-traumatic stress disorder, and anxiety (Dos San-
tos, 2013; Palhano-Fontes, 2019).
This collection of examples of successful regulation processes, the sci-
entific data on safety and effectiveness, and the findings of the academic
literature on the use of ayahuasca points to the fact that, if done in a con-
trolled environment with the guidance of experienced people, it is a benign
practice that poses no harm nor risk to public health and safety. In light
of recent events, and the ongoing stigmatization of ayahuasca, we hope
that this article can serve as a call for ayahuasca groups, academia, in-
ternational agencies, and national governments to open up a channel for
dialogue and for change.
We cannot simply accept the fact that ayahuasca groups are being treated
as criminals, having their homes and workplaces raided by the police with
machine guns. The recognition and accommodation of minorities needs
to part of the political agenda. While raids are being made, there are calls
that are not being answered from these groups to start a dialogue with
public authorities to establish guidelines for the regulation of the use of
ayahuasca.
Ayahuasca is not a threat to public health and the ayahuasca religions
are not criminal organizations. To treat legitimate faith practices from mi-
norities of the Global South as international traffic of dangerous drugs is
a violation of human rights and reveals a complete lack of anthropological
sensitivity and a serious Eurocentric prejudice against other cultures.
The prohibitionist bias linked to the stigma associated with ayahuasca
groups as dangerous sects found in the media and proclaimed by public au-
thorities serves only to obscure and exoticize religious minorities and tradi-
tional populations. In fact, the terms “sect” and “cult” are no longer used in
the academic literature or by scholars of religion (Introvigne, in this volume).
Abandoned by scholars, they have become accusatory and derogatory terms
that frequently serve as tools to spread fear and prejudice, and are used to
constrain and control religious practices and to attack religious freedom.
It is not a surprise, therefore, that these same notions are being used to
Afterword 245
classify ayahuasca groups and to justify repression of ayahuasca use in the
alleged name of public order and health. We cannot abide by that. We are
here to affirm the legitimacy of well-established cultural and religious prac-
tices and to defend the rights of traditional populations, bona fide religious
institutions, and social minorities. The regulation of ayahuasca and the
recognition of ayahuasca groups are not only desirable accomplishments
but necessary ones.
To support legal effort in Spain, donate here.
We stand in solidarity and urge authorities to respect the religious free-
dom of ayahuasca drinkers.
Note
1 This work was originally published at https://chacruna.net/a-call-for-public-
support-against-the-current-demonization-of-ayahuasca-practices-in-spain/.
References
Anderson, B. T., Labate, B. C., Meyer, M., Tupper, K. W., Barbosa, P. C. R., Grob, C.
S., Dawson, A., & McKenna, D. (2012). Statement on ayahuasca. International
Journal of Drug Policy, 23(3), 173–175. doi:10.1016/j.drugpo.2012.02.007
Antunes, H. F. (2011). A literatura antropológica e a reconstituição histórica do
uso da ayahuasca no Brasil [Anthropological literature and the historical recon-
stitution of the use of ayahuasca in Brazil]. Revista de Antropologia Social dos
Alunos do PPGAS-UFSCar, 3(2), 76–103.
Antunes, H. F. (2019). O uso da ayahuasca como um problema público: um con-
traponto entre os casos do Brasil e dos Estados Unidos [The use of ayahuasca as
a public problem: A comparison between Brazil and the United States] (Doctoral
dissertation). University of São Paulo.
Berazaluce, I. (2022a). El Gobierno italiano ha prohibido nuestro Sacramento, ten-
emos fe para transformar esta situación en una oportunidad [The Italian gov-
ernment has banned our sacrament, we have faith to transform this situation
into an opportunity]. Plantaforma para la Defensa de la Ayahuasca. http://www.
plantaforma.org/entrevista-walter-menozzi/
Berazaluce, I. (2022b). El Ministerio de Salud italiano prohíbe, por sorpresa, la
ayahuasca [The Italian Ministry of Health forbids, by surprise, ayahuasca].
Plantaforma para la Defensa de la Ayahuasca. http://www.plantaforma.org/
el-ministerio-de-salud-italiano-prohibe-por-sorpresa-la-ayahuasca/
Berazaluce, I. (2022c). Prohibir la ayahuasca también es atentar contra la libertad
religiosa [Prohibiting ayahuasca is also an attempt against religious freedom].
Plantaforma para la Defensa de la Ayahuasca. https://www.plantaforma.org/
ayuda-santo-daime-francia/
Bourgogne, G. (2011). One hundred days of ayahuasca in France: The story of a
legal decision. In B. C. Labate & H. Jungaberle (Eds.), The internationalization
of ayahuasca (pp. 353–363). LIT Verlag.
Caicedo Fernández, A. (in this volume). Debates on the legality and legitimacy of
yagé in Colombia. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds), Religious freedom and the
global regulation of ayahuasca (pp. 177–191) Routledge.
Dobkin de Rios, M. (1972). Visionary vine: Hallucinogenic healing in the Peruvian
Amazon. Chandler.
Dos Santos, R. (2013). Safety and side effects of ayahuasca in humans: An overview
focusing on developmental toxicology. Journal of psychoactive drugs, 45(1),
68–78.
Federal Council on Narcotic Drugs (CONFEN). (1987). Final report – Work-
ing group ayahuasca. Brasília, DF. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/up-
loads/2008/08/Relatorio-Final-GT-Confen-1987.pdf
Gabriell, I. (2021, September 4). Un manual gratuito para las buenas practices con
Ayahuasca [a free ayahuasca good practices manual]. Chacruna Latinoamerica.
https://chacruna-la.org/manual-buenas-practicas-ayahuasca/
International Center for Ethnobotanical Education, Research, and Service
(ICEERS). (2014). Ayahuasca: A good-practice guide. https://iceers.org/
Documents_ICEERS_site/Safety&Ethics/Ayahuasca-Good_Practice_Guide_
ICEERS2014.pdf
(ICEERS). (2018). Ayahuasca and religious freedom in the Dutch courts: From
tolerance to intolerance. https://www.iceers.org/ayahuasca-and-religious-free-
dom-in-the-dutch-courts-from-tolerance-to-intolerance/.
(ICEERS). (2021). Ayahuasca technical report 2021. https://www.iceers.org/
ENG-2.pdf.
Introvigne, M. (in this volume). Mystics or criminals: “Cults,” religion and drugs.
In B. C. Labate, & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Religious freedom and the global regula-
tion of ayahuasca (pp. 207–221). Routledge.
Labate, B. C. (2004). A reinvenção do uso da ayahuasca nos centros urbanos
[The reinvention of the use of ayahuasca in urban centers]. Mercado de Letras,
FAPESP.
Labate, B. C. (2010). As religiões ayahuasqueiras, patrimônio cultural, acre e fron-
teiras geográficas [The ayahuasca religions, cultural heritage, acre and geograph-
ical borders]. PontoUrbe, 7, 1–10.
Labate, B. C., & Assis, G. L. (in this volume). A genealogy of the ayahuasca cul-
tural heritage registration process in Brazil. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar, C.
(Eds.), Religious freedom and the global regulation of ayahuasca (pp. 142–159).
Routledge.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2014). The therapeutic use of ayahuasca.
Springer.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2021a). Psychedelic justice: Toward a diverse
and equitable psychedelic culture. Synergetic Press.
Labate, B. C., & Cavnar, C. (Eds.). (2021b). Ayahuasca healing and science.
Springer.
Labate, B. C., & Jungaberle, H. (Eds.). (2011). The Internationalization of aya-
huasca. LIT Verlag.
Afterword 247
Labate, B. C., Rose, I. S., & Santos, R. G. (2008). Ayahuasca religions: A com-
prehensive bibliography and critical essays. MAPS [translation from original in
Portuguese: Religiões Ayahuasqueiras: Um Balanço Bibliográfico. Mercado de
Letras, 2008].
Luna, L. E. (1986). Vegetalismo: Shamanism among the mestizo population of the
Peruvian Amazon. Almqvist & Wiksell International.
MacRae, E. (2014). The development of Brazilian public policies on the religious
use of ayahuasca. In B. C. Labate & E. MacRae (Eds.), Ayahuasca, ritual and
religion in Brazil (pp. 191–227). Routledge.
National Council on Drug Policies (CONAD). (2006). Multidisciplinary Working
Group – MGW Ayahuasca. Final report (C. Frenopoulo, Trans.). Bialabate.net.
https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/GMT_CONAD_Eng-
lish.pdf
National Council on Drug Policies (CONAD). (2010). Resolution n.1 – January
25, 2010. Brasília, DF. Bialabate.net. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/up-
loads/2022/03/Resolution_1_CONAD_2010.pdf
Novaes, C., & Moro, M. R. (in this volume). The landscapes of ayahuasca in con-
temporary France. In B. C. Labate & C. Cavnar (Eds.), Religious freedom and
the global regulation of ayahuasca (pp. 106–121). Routledge.
Núcleo de Estudos Interdisciplinares sobre Psicoativos (NEIP). (2017). Declaration
of principles of the religious groups who consume the tea hoasca. (B. Anderson,
Trans.). (Original work published November 24, 1991). NEIP.info. http://www.
neip.info/novo/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/DeclarationofPrinciplesoftheReli-
giousGroupswhoConsumetheTeaHoasca.pdf
Palhano-Fontes, F., Barreto, D., Onias, H., Andrade, K. C., Novaes, M. M., Pes-
soa, J. A., Mota-Rolim, S. A, Osório, F. L., Sanches, R., Dos Santos, R. G,
Tófoli, L. F., de Oliveira Silveira, G., Yonamine, M., Riba, J., Santos, F. R.,
Silva-Junior, A. A., Alchieri, J. C., Galvão-Coelho, N. L., Lobão-Soares, B … &
Araújo, D. B. (2019). Rapid antidepressant effects of the psychedelic ayahuasca
in treatment-resistant depression: A randomized placebo-controlled trial. Psy-
chological Medicine, 49(4), 655–663.
Plantaforma para la Defensa de la Ayahuasca. (2009). Ethical code for organiza-
tions which use ayahuasca in Spain (J. Weiskopf, Trans.) Bialabate.net. https://
www.bialabate.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/Ethical_Code_Ayahuasca_
Use_Spain.pdf
Rochester, J. (2017, July 17). How our Santo Daime church received religious
exemption to use ayahuasca in Canada. Chacruna. https://chacruna.net/
how-ayahuasca-church-received-religious-exemption-canada/
The Representatives of the Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley. (2020a). Dec-
laration of the first ayahuasca Indigenous conference. https://chacruna.net/
declaration-of-the-1st-brazilian-indigenous-conference-on-ayahuasca/
The Representatives of the Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley. (2020b).
Declaration of the 2nd Ayahuasca Indigenous Conference. Chacruna. https://
chacruna.net/declaration-of-the-2nd-brazilian-Indigenous-conference-on-
ayahuasca/
The Representatives of the Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley. (2020c). Decla-
ration of the 3rd Ayahuasca Indigenous Conference. Chacruna. https://chacruna.
net/declaration-of-the-3rd-brazilian-Indigenous-conference-on-ayahuasca/
The Representatives of the Indigenous Peoples of the Juruá Valley. (2022). Declara-
tion of the 4th Ayahuasca Indigenous Conference. Chacruna. https://chacruna.
net/declaration-of-the-4th-brazilian-Indigenous-ayahuasca-conference/
Tupper, K. W., & Labate, B. C. (2012). Plants, psychoactive substances and the
INCB: The control of nature and the nature of control. Human Rights and
Drugs, 2(1), 17–28.
Union of Indigenous Yagé Medics of the Colombian Amazon (UMIYAC). (2000).
Code of Ethics for the Practice of Indigenous Medicine in the Amazon Pied-
mont of Colombia. Bialabate.net. https://www.bialabate.net/wp-content/up-
loads/2008/08/code_of_ethics_umiyac.pdf
Union of Indigenous Yagé Medics of the Colombian Amazon (UMIYAC). (2019,
November 14). Declaration from the Spiritual Authorities, Representatives
and Indigenous Organizations of the Amazon Region. Chacruna. https://cha-
cruna.net/declaration-from-the-spiritual-authorities-representatives-and-indige-
nous-organizations-of-the-amazon-region/
Index
Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes.
accoutrements 24 authorization 165–172

Advisory Council on the Misuse of Authorization for Transportation of
Drugs (ACMD) 70, 71 Forest Products (ATFP) 162, 163
Affordable Care Act 21 ayahuasca 2–4, 6, 9, 10, 13, 19, 33,
Afro-Brazilian religions 107, 145, 165, 109, 155, 156, 161, 168, 169, 172,
195, 241 173, 193, 200, 203; Ayahuasca
Amazon 1, 2, 6, 7, 38, 40, 43, 48, 55, International case 200–202; in
71, 77, 86, 106, 107, 111, 117, 160, Brazil 7, 12, 13, 43, 108, 152, 161,
163, 165, 172, 173, 177, 178, 179, 170, 173; ceremonies 5, 11, 51,
180, 182, 184, 185, 187, 189, 240 53–55, 77, 236, 237; churches 4,
Amazon rainforest 2, 160, 227 10, 13, 17, 20–22, 26, 28, 30, 32,
Antunes, H. F. 165 33, 41; community committee 1;
Apud, Ismael 193–205 consumption 1, 4, 5, 7, 12, 41,
Aquinas, T. 209 48, 55, 97, 99, 161, 166, 172;
Arizona Yage Assembly (AYA) case 18, controversies, mass media 198–199;
30–32 cultic deviance and 110–118;
Article 9 of the European Convention cultural heritage registration, Latin
on Human Rights (ECHR) 71–72, 89 America 146–148; defense expert
Assis, G. L. de 5, 12 witness 222–237; diaspora 86, 100;
Australia 2, 11, 122–131, 134– environmental legislation 160–174;
137, 139, 177, 200; Australian first amendment and 18; freedom of
Constitution 122, 125, 129, religion, Australia 122–140; global
130–131; Australian drug laws issue 10–14; global regulation of
125, 128; freedom of religion 9, 10, 14; government and CHLQ,
(FOR) 129–134, 140; free exercise relationship 47–49; importation
130–133; international human 198, 203, 204, 224; importing 33,
rights treaties 122, 129, 134–137; 100; international legislation 189;
prohibiting, Commonwealth 125, landscapes, contemporary France
130, 132; religion 131–132; socio- 106–119; legal and ethical journey,
legal landscape 137–138; state and Canada 51–64; legal status, United
territory laws 127–128; state/territory States 17–36; legislation about use
based human rights legislation 133– of 108–110; practitioners 33, 34,
134; UDV TGA submission 138–139 82; psychoactive beverage, Brazil
Australian Constitution 122, 125, 142–144; recognition of 9, 154;
129–132 regulating, United Kingdom 69–82;
Australian drug laws 125; enforcement regulation 1–14, 44; religions 6, 9,
128–129 106–108, 155, 156, 160, 162, 165,
250 Index
168, 173, 174; shipments seizures, Church of the Eclectic Cult of the
South America 32–33; state laws Universal Flowing Light 101n1
17, 33–35, 139; in Uruguay 12, 193, Church of the Holy Light of the Queen
195–197, 199, 201, 203, 205; use (CHLQ) 10; complaint against US
in Australia 123–124; Vision 2021 government 39–42; v. Mukasey
17–36 38–49
ayahuasca cultural heritage registration Colombia 4, 6–7, 11, 147, 152, 155,
process: genealogical proposal 177–190, 200, 240, 241, 242
142; Indigenous peoples and Colorado 25, 34
complexification 151–154; Roman comprehensiveness 24
property and intangible cultural Conselheiro, Antonio 210
diversity 144–146 constitution 18, 28, 40, 42, 88, 89, 122,
Ayahuasca International 184, 193, 196, 125, 129–132, 144, 147, 170, 183,
200, 201 197, 202, 216
constitutional exemptions 33–34, 73
Banisteriopsis caapi 41, 52, 106, 110, contemporary 4, 11, 79, 106–109, 114,
123, 177, 227 117–119, 123, 145, 154, 173, 242
Barker, Eileen 212, 213 Controlled Drugs and Substances Act
Barquinha 38, 106, 107, 143, 150, 161, (CDSA) 51, 52, 62
173, 241 controlled substances 3, 8, 11, 17, 18,
Belgium 4, 13, 85–101, 201 28, 29, 32, 34, 39, 47, 49, 52, 57,
beliefs 2, 5, 23–25, 27, 71, 72, 115, 116, 58, 59
131–135, 138; system 87 Controlled Substances Act (CSA) 10,
Bouso, José Carlos 8, 14, 222–237 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 28–30, 31, 41,
brainwashing 7, 199, 208, 209, 47, 48
212–214 controversies 1–6, 9, 12, 14, 142,
Brazil 1, 2, 4, 5, 6–7, 9, 12, 13, 33, 143, 162, 166, 172, 193, 198, 200,
38, 41, 42, 43, 44, 48, 58, 70, 87, 203, 209
82, 106–109, 112, 115, 118, 124, Convention on Psychotropic Substances
143, 144, 146, 155, 156, 160, 161, (CPS), 1971 3, 73, 86, 108, 196, 197
166, 172, 173, 203; ayahuasca Cranston, Sir Ross 70, 74
cultural heritage registration process Criminal Code Australia 126, 127
142–157; ayahuasca environmental criminalization 5, 10, 13, 14, 51–55, 61,
legislation 160–174; Indigenous 69, 75, 81, 87, 89, 100
populations in 160–174 criminal religious movements (CRMs)
Brazilian ayahuasca religions 4, 6, 38, 213–215, 217; ayahuasca movements
114, 143, 156, 165, 167–169, 172, 215–218
173, 202, 243 cults 4, 12, 71, 107, 110, 113–115, 132,
Brazilian Institute of Environment and 193, 198, 203, 207–215
Natural Resources (IBAMA) 162, cults or sectarian deviance 110
163, 164 cultural heritage 5, 6, 7, 9, 12, 13,
Burwell v. Hobby Lobby (2018) 21–22 14, 142–152, 154–156, 173, 179,
186, 242
Caetano, Gerardo 194, 195 cultural heritage registration 144,
Caicedo Fernández, Alhena 7, 11, 12 145, 151, 154–156; ayahuasca,
California 21, 30, 34, 185, 212 Brazil 148–150; ayahuasca and
Calvin, John 209 psychoactive plants, Latin America
Canada 4, 5, 10, 11, 51–64, 198, 203, 146–148
243 cultural legitimacy, plant
cannabis 27, 28, 59, 62, 63, 75, 76, 78, medicines 1, 6
79, 129, 196, 202, 204 cultural policies 6, 149
Canudos 210 cultures, intersecting 51–64
Casanova, J. 195 cult wars 211–212
Céu do Montréal (CdM) 51, 55, 58–63 Curry, Denise 46
Index 251
Da Costa, N. 194, 195 European Union 99, 100
dangerous religious cults 12, 193, 198 experiences 5, 14, 54, 55, 60, 76, 107,
Daniels v Deputy Commissioner of 115, 117, 118, 124, 198–201
Taxation (2008) SASC 431 133
DEA Interim Guidance 22–23; Meyers Fassin, D. 8
and Quaintance factors 23–28 federal drug laws 125–127
DEA rulemaking 31 Feeney, K. 3, 108, 109
decriminalized cities 34–35 First Indigenous Ayahuasca
deforestation 7, 160, 163 Conference 155
Delaware 34 France 4, 11, 88, 90, 106–117, 119,
Deshayes, P. 119 212, 240
destructive cults 208 freedom of religion (FOR) 122, 123,
Dimaggio, P. J. 166 125, 127, 129, 131–133, 135,
dimethyltryptamine (DMT) 3, 17, 19, 139, 140, 197, 201–203; Australia
33, 41, 44, 46, 51, 52, 58, 69, 73, 122–140
86, 87, 88, 91, 92, 93, 95–98, 106, Fróes, V. 1
108, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129,
137–139, 181, 196–197, 223–225, Georgia 34
229, 232–235 globalization 2, 4, 10, 12, 51, 193, 195
Dobkin de Rios, M. 1 Goldman, Jonathan 38–40, 42–43
Drug Enforcement Administration Goulart, S. L. 167
(DEA): rulemaking process, government 9, 10, 18–21, 23, 31, 33,
announcement 31–32 35, 38, 39–49, 51, 57, 58, 59, 61–63,
drug policies 5, 6, 12, 14, 51, 59, 70, 73, 81, 107, 125, 130, 136, 137,
61–63, 76, 78, 79, 92, 142, 144, 151, 145, 147, 148, 149, 151, 156, 165,
161, 165, 193, 225 166, 167, 169, 171, 172, 173, 174,
drug prohibition 73–74 199, 202, 209, 210, 211, 213, 215,
drugs 12, 19, 44, 51, 52, 61–63, 70, 72, 216, 223, 236, 239, 240, 242,
78, 85, 91, 92, 94, 115, 116, 125, 243, 244
126, 137, 148, 193, 196, 198, 202, Gurdjieff, George Ivanovich 218
203, 207–218, 229, 230, 232, 236,
239, 244 Halpern, John H. 44, 45
drug war 47, 61, 86, 87, 100, 115, hard requirements, admission
137, 225 101n5
drug war paradigm 86; ayahuasca harmaline 51, 52, 93, 110, 123, 124,
diaspora 86; belief system 87; 126–129, 139, 197, 229, 233
Convention on Psychotropic health risks 19, 20, 44, 47, 48, 49, 72,
Substances, 1971 86 96, 242
Hervieu-Léger, Danièle 113, 114
“entheogenic” substances 12, 215, 216 Hobby Lobby case 10, 17, 21–22
Entheogens 8, 34, Australia 122–140 human rights 3, 5, 71, 73, 74, 78, 79,
environment 5, 30, 45, 49, 55, 110, 81, 82, 85, 86, 88, 89, 96–99, 122,
147, 148, 155 129, 130, 133–137, 170, 244
environmental legislation 6, 7, 13,
160–163, 166, 169, 173 identity 2, 4, 13, 90, 142, 150, 152,
Esquerre, A. 113 167, 171, 184, 195, 199, 241
ethnicity 4, 142 Igreja do Culto Eclético da Fluente Luz
ethnopsychoanalysis 115 Universal (ICEFLU) 38, 40, 43, 48,
European Convention on Human 92, 94, 96, 99, 143, 148, 150–154;
Rights 71; democratic, pluralist legal case 92–93; exile 93; non-
and inclusive search 90; dialogue comparable alternative 93; toxicity
and compromise 90; normative and non-comparable alternatives
counterweight 89–90; Right to 92–93; value judgement, before
Religious Freedom within EU 90 assessment 92
252 Index
Indigenous communities 55, 56, 57, less restrictive means 48, 99–100
178, 179, 182, 183, 186, 187 Leterrier, Romuald 117
Indigenous Peoples 4, 5, 7, 9, 12, 13, Levy, A. 53
29, 38, 142, 144, 147, 150–156, 166, license 11, 57, 69–72, 74, 77, 81, 222
167, 168, 170, 171, 172, 173, 177, Llosa, Mario Vargas 217
179, 185, 187, 189, 242 Lombroso, Cesare 210, 211
intangible cultural heritage 9, 145–147,
156, 186 Mabit, Jacques 109, 111, 146
intellectual property rights 4, 185, Maclure, J. 194
188, 189 MacRae, E. 1, 108, 165
International Center for Ethnobotanical The (“Make It or Break It”) Van
Education, Research & Service Dorsten A.O. case 97–99; appeal
(ICEERS) 9, 14, 78–79, 86, 154, 155, and inadmissibility, rejection 98–99;
167, 225 prohibition, Santo Daime 98; self-
international human rights treaties 122, regulatory action CLAREIA 97–98;
129, 134–137; Article 18 of ICCPR third affirmation, religious freedom
135–137 97
Iowa 29, 34 Maryland 33
IPHAN 144, 147, 151–156 mass media 193, 198–199, 203
McAllister, Sean T. 3, 10
Kammonen, Tanya 55 medicalization 12, 180, 189
Kounen, Jan 109, 117 metamorphosis: of prohibition 74
metaphysical beliefs 23, 27
Labate, B. C. 3, 5, 6, 9, 12, 13, 14, 108, Meyers’ factors 17
109, 146, 150, 165, 167 Miviludes 11, 110, 112, 240
Laplantine, F. 108 Montana 34
law 1, 3, 5, 8, 10, 17, 18, 22, 23, 25, Mother Earth case 28–30
27, 28, 30, 33–35, 40, 42, 44, 47, 49, multiculturalism 12, 123, 179, 182, 188
61, 70, 72, 74, 79, 81, 82, 87, 88, multiculturalist state 180
89, 98, 95, 98, 99, 108, 112, 115,
122–140, 147, 169, 171, 193, 196, Nebraska 33
197, 202, 203, 207, 212, 215, 216, Needleman, Jacob 212
218, 224, 234 neoshamanism 11, 241
Lazzeretti, Davide 210 Netherlands 4, 13, 85–89, 91, 93–99,
legal analysis 11, 69 109, 111, 112, 116, 203
legal cases 1, 86, Santo Daime 90–99; Nevada 34
Fijneman case 94–95; Franklin- new age 107, 147, 152, 195, 241
Beentjes case 95–97; Valousek case New Jersey 33
96; The (“Make It or Break It”) Van new religious movements 87, 113, 195,
Dorsten A.O. case 97–99 210–214, 218
legal coherentism 138 North American Association of
legal defense 9 Visionary Churches (NAAVC) 30
legal dichotomy 17 North Carolina 33
legal floundering, Denmark 99 North Dakota 34
legalization 62, 63, 69, 78, 116,
189, 204 objective seriousness 125, 127, 129
legal prosecution 18, 22, 28, 30, 33, 34, Oregon 33, 34, 35, 38–49, 243
38, 69, 75, 126, 128, 240 Orlando Gaitán 183, 217
legislation 4, 7, 11, 12, 13, 52, 62, 75, O uso ritual da ayahuasca (The Ritual
88, 91, 92, 95, 107, 108, 123, 125, Use of Ayahuasca) 2
126, 129, 130, 132–134, 136, 160,
161, 163, 166, 172, 173, 180, 188 Panner, Judge 42–47
legitimacy 1, 2, 4–6, 9, 169, 170, 174, patrimonialization 6, 12, 186–188, 203
177, 180–183, 184, 186, 187, 188, personal autonomy 99–100
189, 190, 196, 198, 228, 229 Plan Colombia 187, 190n5
Index 253
plant-assisted process, self-mastery 55 47, 63; freedom 4, 5, 9, 10, 13, 31,
plant species 7, 13, 160–164, 166, 169, 42, 49, 73, 85, 90, 95, 97, 130, 204;
172, 173, 174, 186, 190 groups 7, 9, 55, 59, 115, 116, 165,
pluralism 85, 90, 114, 169 172, 211, 213–215; institutions 42,
policy 3, 6, 32, 35, 41, 51, 59, 61–64, 131, 162, 169, 202–204; liberty
78, 79, 92, 108, 142, 144–147, 165, 18, 33, 109, 209, 212, 216, 217;
179, 181, 182, 186, 202, 208, 214, movements 213–215, 217; practices
240, 242 12, 14, 17–19, 26, 27, 30, 33, 35,
Powell, W. W. 166 39–41; purposes 18, 19, 22, 42;
Prince Gurdjieff 217–218 regulation 114; rituals 43, 169, 216,
proactive approach 11, 69–82 217; use 3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 17–20, 47, 49,
prohibition 11, 13, 34, 39, 45–47, 161, 172, 198, 202
49, 69, 70, 72–76, 78, 82, 88, 93, rights 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 20, 21, 31, 40, 42,
95–100, 155, 181, 196, 198, 201, 49, 72, 74, 89, 90, 93, 96, 98, 99,
204, 216, 240 122, 130, 133–135, 137, 170, 171,
psychedelics 9, 34, 51, 63, 64, 75–80 172, 179, 185, 186, 188, 189, 190,
psychedelic-assisted therapy 62 243, 245
psychoactive 8, 13, 43, 45, 62, 72, 73, Rochester, Jessica 58
75, 78, 81, 86, 106, 116, 137, 146, Rudd, Amber 70
177, 228, 229, 231 R v Aziz (2012) 69
psychoactive drugs 116, 137
psychoactive plants 126, 146 sacred plants 187, 196, 200; legality 1
psychoactive substances 3, 8, 13, 14, 41, Santo Daime 1, 4, 10, 12, 13, 17, 20,
45, 59, 62, 71, 78, 86, 87, 100, 115, 21, 22, 26, 29, 38–49, 55, 58, 60,
116, 132, 137, 140, 146, 169 62, 63, 106, 107, 109, 110, 112,
Psychotria viridis 3, 41, 52, 106, 110, 114, 116, 199, 222; in Belgium
123, 227 and Netherlands 85–101; Casa de
public controversies 2, 172, 198 Cura Mestre Irineu (CdCMI) 91;
public debate 2, 6, 7, 9, 14, 114, 172, César, apprehension 90–91; double
173, 200 paradigm 85; European Convention
public policy 6, 41, 79, 145, 240 on Human Rights 89–90; exemption
20–21; harmful religion 89; HSO-
Rance, D. 165 Police stance 91; ICEFLU, legal case
Rebollo, N. 8 92–93; legal cases, Netherlands
regulation 1, 2, 3–11, 14, 41, 43, 44, 94–99; public ministry stance 91–92
47, 63, 69, 75–82, 98, 108, 112, 114, Santo Daime church 4, 10, 20, 38, 39,
115, 122, 123, 139, 144, 147, 165, 89, 95, 97–100, 109, 198, 199, 222,
166, 197; of ayahuasca 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 240; regulation, Oregon 38–49
11, 47, 51, 54, 60, 62, 69 scheduled substances, Australia 125
regulatory framework 11, 63, 122, 139, Scuro, Juan 12
145, 182 Second World Ayahuasca Conference
Religious Freedom Restoration Act 154–156
(RFRA) 10, 17–19, 21, 22, 25, 26, sects 11, 71, 85, 87, 88, 91, 110,
28, 30, 31, 34, 35, 40, 46, 47, 49, 216 165, 207, 211, 244; Belgian
Religious Land Use and perspective 88–89; harmful sectarian
Institutionalized Persons Act 26, 28 organizations (HSOs) 87–88; new
religious/religion 3, 14, 18, 19, 22, religious movements (NRMs) 87–88
23–26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 39, 40, 41, secularism 114, 194
43, 46, 48, 59, 60, 71, 72, 74, 82, Segato, R. 178
87, 88, 91, 92, 95, 130–133, 135, self-mastery 55
142, 145, 194, 207–218; beliefs 18, self-realization 80
19, 21–24, 26, 27, 89, 90, 131, 133, self-regulation 9, 76, 78–80, 82, 147,
135; ceremonies 21, 39–41, 44, 47, 184, 189, 242
122, 156; communities 35, 88, 89; Simon, D. 138
exemptions 17, 18, 22, 28, 29, 31, social legitimacy 6
254 Index
soft requirements, admission 101n5 Uruguay 4, 12, 193–199, 201–205;
Soul Quest church 18, 28–31, 35 ayahuasca in 195–196; new spiritual
South Dakota 34 landscape 194–195; Santo Daime
spirituality 80, 107, 113, 116, 123, confiscation case 197–198
139, 195 US Customs Border Patrol (CBP) 32, 33
State agencies 5, 8, 10, 12, 14 US District Court, Oregon 42–47
state-level RFRAs 33–34 U.S. v. Meyers 23
Suárez Álvarez, C. 160 U.S. v. Quaintance 23
subjectivity 107, 119, 138 Utah 25, 34
sustainability 80, 152, 160, 173, 174
Varela, Alberto 184, 185, 200, 201
taita 147, 178, 180–185, 190n2 Vermont 33
Taylor, C. 194 Visionary Vine: Hallucinogenic Healing
Thevenin, J. M. R. 163 in the Peruvian Amazon (Marlene
Thomas, Gerald 57 Dobkin de Rios) 1
toxicity 92, 93, 95, 98, 227, 228, Viveiros de Castro, E. 119
229, 230
tradition 4, 6, 111, 142, 150, 167, Weber, M. 211
168, 173, 180, 181, 204, 211, 214, Weor, Samael Aun 218
218, 236 West Virginia 34
traditional knowledge 4, 167, 185–189 World Ayahuasca Conference 9, 56, 64,
traditional uses 11, 73, 184 154–156, 167, 168
trials 8, 14, 222–229, 232, 235, 236 worship 71, 72, 92, 132–135
Troeltsch, E. 211 Wyoming 25, 34
ultimate ideas 23 Xie Jiao 207–209, 214

União do Vegetal (UDV) 10, 11, 17,
19–22, 25, 26, 29, 38, 40, 41, 42, yage 147, 155, 177–190, 241, 242;
44, 45, 47–49, 59, 60, 62, 69–74, 81, legality and legitimacy, Colombia
106, 107, 109, 112, 114, 116, 118, 177–190; legitimacy regime, new uses
123, 124, 131, 132, 138, 139, 143, 182–185; new uses and actors 180–
149, 150, 152, 154, 161, 172, 173, 182; physical and cultural protection
198, 216, 217, 223, 240, 241, 243, 185–188; uses, Colombia 178–180
244; exemption 19–20 Yagecero field 184, 189

Religious Freedom and The Global Regulation of Ayahuasca

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Religious Freedom and The Global Regulation of Ayahuasca

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Religious Freedom and the Global

Beatriz Caiuby Labate (Bia Labate) is a queer Brazilian anthropologist based

Muslims of Post-Communist Eurasia

Christian Orthodox Migrants in Western Europe

Domestic Demons and the Intimate Uncanny

Jews and Muslims in London and Amsterdam

Alternative Spirituality, Counterculture, and European Rainbow

Religious Freedom and the Global Regulation of Ayahuasca

Interreligious Encounters in Europe

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/

ISBN: 9780367028756 (hbk)

Introduction: The Regulation of Ayahuasca and Its

1 Ayahuasca Vision 2021: Legal Status of Ayahuasca in

2 Church of the Holy Light of the Queen v. Mukasey:

3 Intersecting Cultures: Exploring Ayahuasca’s Legal and

4 Regulating Ayahuasca in the United Kingdom:

5 Santo Daime in Belgium and the Netherlands:

7 Ayahuasca and Freedom of Religion in Australia:

8 A Genealogy of the Ayahuasca Cultural Heritage

9 “Authorization? That’s Outrageous:” Ayahuasca

10 Debates on the Legality and Legitimacy of Yage in

11 Ayahuasca in Uruguay: Legal Aspects and Public

12 Mystics or Criminals? “Cults,” Religion, and Drugs 207

13 A Defense Expert Witness on Ayahuasca: An Interview

Afterword: A Call for Public Support against the

Dr. Henrique Fernandes Antunes is a postdoctoral researcher at the Cen-

José Carlos Bouso is a psychologist and has a PhD in pharmacology. His

Ismael Apud is adjunct professor at the Facultad de Psicología, Universi-

Clancy Cavnar has a doctorate in clinical psychology (PsyD) from John

Marie Rose Moro is a child and adolescent psychiatrist and professor of

Clara Novaes is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst, she holds a

This volume is an initiative of the Chacruna Institute of Psychedelic Plant

A Global Issue: An Overview of the Regulation of

Ayahuasca exists as a legal dichotomy in the United States, as demonstrated

The First Amendment Does Not Protect Ayahuasca Use

Religious Freedom Restoration Act

Santo Daime Exemption

Hobby Lobby Case

DEA Interim Guidance

DEA’s Use of Meyers and Quaintance Factors

1 Ultimate Ideas: Religious beliefs often address fundamental questions

There are several noticeable limitations, lessons, and implications of the

A spiritual or ethical system is not comprised of simply one vague and

Soul Quest Church of Mother Earth Case

Arizona Yage Assembly Case

Announcement of DEA Rulemaking Process

to incorporate consideration of issues arising under the Religious Free-

The DEA’s announcement that it would engage in rulemaking has created

DEA expects to publish a Notice of Proposed Rulemaking in the

Seizures of Ayahuasca Shipments from South America

State-Level RFRAs and Constitutional Exemptions

Decriminalized Cities and States

In Brazil, besides the vast quantity of Amazonian Indigenous Peoples that

38 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-3

The CHLQ’s Complaint against the US Government

The Decision from the US District Court for the District

The Regulation of Ayahuasca in the State of Oregon and

Ayahuasca has experienced a meandering legal and ethical journey in

Most people who take ayahuasca in the United States do so in small

This chapter looks at contrasting proactive approaches that may be taken

Freedom to manifest one’s religion or beliefs shall be subject only to

Any incursion into a protected right needs to be proportionate to the

Many plants that contain psychoactive substances with stimulating

38 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-3

106 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-7

122 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-8

142 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-9

160 DOI: 10.4324/9780429001161-10