Where did western psychedelic therapy come from, exactly?

Are today’s psychedelic therapy methods less effective than those of the past, or have we drifted away from their original purpose?

In the 1950s, British psychiatrist Humphrey Osmond pioneered the first Western psychedelic therapy program. His initial work, alongside psychiatrist Abraham Hoffer, focused on understanding schizophrenia from a biochemical perspective. They hypothesized that hallucinogenic compounds, similar to mescaline and adrenaline, were produced in the bodies of schizophrenic patients. While this theory has been debunked, their innovative perspective laid the foundation for a broader exploration of psychedelics’ potential in treating mental health disorders—especially alcoholism.

Osmond and Hoffer began experimenting with LSD as a potential tool for treating alcoholism. Their hypothesis stemmed from the belief that LSD could mimic the effects of delirium tremens (DTs)—a severe state of alcohol withdrawal characterized by hallucinations, tremors, and psychological distress. By simulating a “rock bottom” experience, they hoped to inspire patients to confront their addiction.

However, Osmond’s views evolved. By 1965, his approach shifted away from chemical shock therapy toward using LSD to help alcoholics reframe their self-perception. This method aimed to foster a sense of interconnectedness and communal responsibility. The ultimate goal? To catalyze profound spiritual experiences—what Osmond called “white light” moments—that could empower alcoholics to rebuild their lives.

Critics question whether isolating and synthesizing naturally occurring compounds like DMT might diminish their therapeutic power. Traditional ayahuasca brews, for example, combine plants containing DMT with natural MAO inhibitors that prolong its effects. Additionally, the “entourage effect” suggests that the interaction of multiple compounds in natural substances may enhance their overall efficacy. While Entheon’s synthetic DMT isn’t designed to replicate the ayahuasca experience, some wonder if vital elements of plant medicine are lost in the transition to a lab-developed treatment.

Despite the challenges and controversies, Entheon Biomedical is focused on developing a practical, accessible therapy for addiction treatment. Ko envisions a future where DMT-based therapy is available in prescription-based clinical settings, integrated into ongoing therapeutic relationships. This controlled approach aims to help patients make healthier choices while moderating the intensity of the psychedelic journey.

Ko acknowledges the profound nature of psychedelic experiences, noting their potential to reconnect people to their sense of purpose and reality. While it may take five to seven years for Entheon’s DMT therapy to reach the market, its development marks a significant step toward reshaping how addiction and mental health challenges are treated.

By bridging ancient wisdom with modern science, Entheon hopes to offer a therapeutic tool that speaks to the core of human existence—while making these life-changing experiences accessible to a wider audience.

Osmond’s results were promising. At the three-month follow-up, LSD participants showed lower rates of severe alcoholism (36% vs. 44% in the control group) and higher rates of abstinence or reduced drinking (61% vs. 44%). These effects persisted, albeit diminished, at the 12-month mark. Modern psychedelic trials, particularly with psilocybin, have shown similar results for conditions like depression—suggesting the need for periodic treatment to sustain benefits.

Importantly, Osmond’s study extended its lens to participants’ families. Interviews with their wives provided additional insights, such as the positive ripple effects of treatment and recommendations for involving loved ones earlier in the process. This holistic perspective remains largely absent from today’s psychedelic protocols.

Today’s psychedelic therapy often follows a clinical model: patients lie in isolation, don eye masks, and are monitored by therapists. While effective, this approach lacks the communal and integrative elements of Osmond’s program. Group-based therapy, tailored to culturally appropriate peer networks, could address some limitations of the current model—particularly for marginalized communities, such as BIPOC populations, who face systemic barriers to mental health care.

When asked why Osmond’s methods are rarely implemented today, many practitioners point to systemic challenges like red tape, funding constraints, and liability concerns. Nonetheless, interest in group therapy is resurging. Recent studies have begun exploring its potential, indicating a slow but meaningful shift toward more accessible and community-focused psychedelic treatments.

As we expand access to psychedelic therapy, it’s crucial to consider Osmond’s legacy. Could incorporating peer-driven, group-based models enhance treatment outcomes? Could these approaches create more inclusive frameworks for diverse populations? While today’s advancements are impressive, a return to the holistic, community-centered ethos of early programs might offer untapped possibilities.

What do you think?
How can we bridge the gap between past and present approaches to psychedelic therapy?