As a writer on ayahuasca shamanism, and a leader of small groups down to the rainforest to encounter the practice of traditional medicine, I have watched the rising of the phenomena labeled “ayahuasca tourism” with apprehension.
The dark spectre of ayahuasca tourism is dealt with in only one chapter of my book, The Jaguar that Roams the Mind, and tangentially at that. I confess when I first began my pilgrimages to the Amazon, the concept of an ayahuasca tourist hadn’t even occurred to me, nor did I know the effect of this sham industry on indigenous culture. As well, as we moved through the world of Amazonian shamanism, we were fortunate indeed to have qualified guides, practitioners who were part of a network of authentic healers and communities who assisted us in making further contacts.
Strangely enough, it was only upon completing The Jaguar that I began to become aware of the issue, primarily through contact with medical anthropologist Marlene Dobkin de Rios, whose work, “A Hallucinogen Tea, Laced with Controversy” is a must read for anyone working with plant medicines. How had I managed to be so blithely unaware of the issue? Well, I wanted to write a book exploring the healing effects of ayahuasca curanderismo, not seek experiences that I could notch onto the handle of my psychonaut gun. Since our time was spent almost entirely in the jungle or among therapeutic communities, the tentacles of the ayahuasca recruiting biz only occasionally brushed us — and our lack of greed for “experiences” invariably allowed us to see through their transparent blandishments. I imagine my naive devotion to the path made me something of a Parsifal, as well.
Yet as I became aware of the issue, I struggled over whether to publish The Jaguar at all. Did I want to open the floodgates of ayahuasca tourism further? I even began to wonder, had I been an unknowing participant in this form of psychedelic narcissism myself?
Let’s take a look at de Rios’ profile of the ayahuasca tourist:
“an individualist in search of authenticity and the exotic, the tourist in in quest of an experience in a foreign land, to elevate themselves spiritually and to be entertained. The individualist does not want anyone to tell him what to do and flees unpleasant aspects of modernity in search for the ‘authentic and real.'”
Sound familiar? I resemble that remark, I thought on first reading it. Yet, what’s wrong with a leavening of discontent? Doesn’t that also describe Paul Gauguin, Robert Louis Stevenson, B. Traven, and numberless other artists and revolutionaries who set out from their suffocating existences to seek larger fields of inspiration and experience?
Yet de Rios indicates there’s a hidden consumerist mentality in the ayahuasca tourist, prone to fall into tourist traps, where they are “exploited by pseudo-events in the hands of new shamans, who provide ersatz experiences geared to stereotyped notions of what an authentic hallucinogenic experience abroad should be. The tourist is easily satisfied by pseudo-authenticity — and seeks this authenticity to gain insight into his/her own life. In fact, the tourist does not care much if the experience is real or fake. He just wants to have fun and escape from the patterns that he follows in his real life. We then have a hyperreal experience, one more real than reality.”
I see this as the cultural issue: divorced from the natural world around them, raised before the altar of the television and computer, how are most travelers to recognize an authentic experience? If they have no extensive experience in other traditional disciplines — ranging from martial arts to meditation practice to herbalism — what criteria do they possess to evaluate from? One sees the baleful impact of tourism on other cultures around the world as well: on our recent journey through Ladakh we found many Buddhist monasteries have converted themselves into tourist traps.
De Rios has compiled a devastating report on the extent of the abuses of ayahuasca, and her argument is for new laws to regulate the use of the plant and effectively end the tourist industry. It’s not hard to feel sympathy for her argument.
Yet I’m concerned that the baby is in danger of being thrown out with the bathwater. While the passage of new regulatory laws may be overdue, laws are not a true solution. The abandonment of the tourist mentality is.
First, we need to recognize that just as the original conquistadors and their priests brought over the viruses and bacteria that wrought an apocalyptic devastation on the indigenous populations, we now bring over an infectious disease called Western consumerism, and it’s transmittable. This is a rather dire diagnosis, yet anyone who’s spent time in the culturally and ecologically degenerated towns and natural systems of South America could hardly disagree — ayahuasca is now being sold in coke bottles on the sidewalks of Iquitos!
Second, rather than exploiting the locals for the products, travelers who work with the medicines in the Amazon need to learn how to recognize authentic healers and begin taking on their role as stewards of the tradition. Much of Amazonian medicine will never arrive in the West, because it is a land-based spiritual tradition. It’s efficacy requires ecological richness, the presence of the jungle itself, and transmission from shaman to apprentice within that setting. Our foremost concern should be to preserve that tradition by forming alliances over the long-run, where Westerners can begin translating this rich tradition into the methodologies of the West, as well as help the authentic curanderos continue their work.
Finally, in reading de Rios’ book, I felt short-shrift given to those Westerners called to work with the plants of the Amazon, who approach the tradition with humility and discipline. Many seek healing in a responsible manner, after Western medicine has failed them. The Jaguar documents the healing of a young woman of a brain tumor in a mere three weeks. Others are seeking self-realization, and many reputable shamans are adapting their methods to accommodate these quests. These travelers are able to distinguish the pseudo-shamans from the real ones, and bring a renewed sense of purpose to the shamans themselves, who are too often abandoned by their own communities.
I think there is an important distinction here between a “pilgrim” and a “tourist” that is often overlooked in this discussion, one I learned on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. In a tiny French village, I encountered a woman who hosted pilgrims, continuing, she said, the tradition of the Knights of Santiago. I asked her, “What is the difference between a tourist and a pilgrim?”
She responded, “The tourist demands, the pilgrim is grateful.” Then she smiled, and added, “But there’s a pilgrim sleeping inside every tourist.”
I would like to think that the gratitude and the self-abnegation of the pilgrim can make all the difference in Westerner’s encounters with other cultures. And I may be naive.
It was a pleasure reading of your experiences, thankyou.
I would like to add something, if I may:
there is no such thing as “ayahuasca tourism”. I’ve been here in Iquitos for 16 years now, married to a local with two children. The only “passengers” I have seen coming here, are here with serious intent. Tourists don’t participate, they watch. To have “ayahuasca tourism” it would require that there be bleachers put up outside a ceremonial maloca where the tourists could view a sacred ceremony. The passengers coming here are in the maloca, vomiting, defecating, traveling with the icaros, seeking their own personal spiritual, emotional and physical healings. Many have come because they felt called as the western ways are not answering the void in their souls. When I came here 16 years ago, the shamans complained to me that their own children and grandchildren no longer wanted to diet and learn the shamanistic ways. Since the arrival of the gringo and the way the gringo shows incredible respect to the grandfather shamans, the children have seen that and they have seen that the gringos pay the curanderos (shamans) for their services… they see their grandfathers now being able to pay for their school supplies (books, pencils and papers, etc.) and see how there is more food on the table and their homes are more comfortable… and so they now want to learn. It is because of the gringos coming that the children want to learn about the plants and how to heal with them.
thanks…
I recently saw you speak at City Lights and have begun reading your book since. This (old) post of yours imho touches on the most important issue that was brought up that night and I’m glad it is getting the attention it deserves here and in de Rios’ book (i just ordered it-thanks for bringing it to my attention!). given the context of your book, i’m sorry to have seen this topic pushed to the side at the bookstore gathering.
Having not read de Rios’ book, I can only go from my own observations that both ayahuasca tourism and ayahuasca pilgrimage are in almost all cases the same thing (maybe i agree with alan, who is perhaps a little biased in his remarks because of his role in the…ahem…tourist industry). therefore both have a similar impact on the indigenous (but let’s get real, mostly mestizo) ayahuasca culture of the amazon. there is definitely power in vegetalismo in its “purest” state, however, it is not beneficial for us to idealize and believe that vegetalismo was ever a stagnant practice that wasn’t evolving with amazonian culture over the history of its use as a healing and spiritual practice. the introduction of the gringo’s interest in the medicine, however we choose to judge his/her motivation for seeking the medicine, is simply the next step in the evolution of the practice/culture. i like many others who have a relationship with the medicine, I find myself wanting to preserve its ancient form, while also sharing its powerful beauty with people who would benefit from its healing touch. But do I really have the ability to know its ancient form?
What I have found is that medicine culture, like all things, evolves with everything going on around it and time. we can always call back to days long ago when it was “better”, “more pure”, etc (like we do with all things dear to us) but i have always found that what feels solely like dilution is often goes hand in hand with the beauty of adaptation and proliferation. with increased communication through the internet and globalization (of commerce and culture) the old ways of being in the world (even the most sacred) will change to fit the new world if they have value or disappear if they do not. the question we are truly left with is whether or not they can adapt with integrity.
what i struggle with is what does adaptation with integrity look like? there are definitely curanderos that put on quite the performace for gringos during their ceremonies. there are definitely ones who play up the psycho-spiritual aspects and downplay the healing potential. there are ones who use westerners for money, fame, power and sex. there are those that learn to speak like a west coast, new age, psychonaut to appeal to that aspect of the market. does it matter? i think a continued discussion of this topic is key to the education that you mentioned above, is of utmost value. but at the same time, the process of discussion and debate is the solution and unlikely anything more. because in the end, we each must decide when we approach medicine, what works best for us individually at any particular time in our life. to create law or even to shape by idealizing dogma is a step in the wrong direction when we want to share the beauty of Spirit and Healing with all beings.
In over 12 years spent studying within these indigenous traditions with these medicines, I can say from personal experience that this work is utterly life transforming. It helped me where Western medicine did not and has given me answers to my deepest inner questions. Indeed my experiences have provided deep and lasting healing on all levels and have given me a renewed sense of purpose.
During my times in the mountains and jungles of Peru, I have not met even one “ayahuasqua tourist”. What I have encountered there are people searching for something, for answers, with a deep desire to heal, to transform their lives. Some discover that they are called to study and carry on this work.
When someone comes with an open heart, with gratitude, humility, and respect, for these ancient indigenous traditions and the curanderos that practice them, one can learn a great deal. This experiential work is uniquely personal. It cannot be observed. Fortunately, it can still be experienced.
Western comercialism is not sustainable. Healthy indigenous traditions and their ways of life are. We, those of us born in the West, have much to learn from our elder brothers and sisters.
Here is what I don’t get. The middle to upper middle class folks that seek out all this healing “where Western medicine has failed” sometimes have a very facile sense of the world and their place in it. What I mean is, they don’t go to other cultures to experience the culture, they go to have an awesome experience and make themselves feel authentically spritual after being part of this ritual, but where is the awe and wonder at all of the other aspects of the culture? And so much of the time it’s just that a lot of new age types won’t reflect on their whiteness or privledge, because they are all defensive. Meanwhile, they are without a proper understanding of the critique of colonialism, imperialism and empire that have structured their own ways of understanding their relationship to other cultures. Lookie there. Their reaction to the aspects of Western Culture that they don’t like (tech or pharma or alienation or whatever) is to turn away immediately and seek authenticity and meaning in a very small segment of other cultures – and that very segment is all ready made and wrapped up fro them with them in mind. I’m sorry – it’s hard to be white in the West. Deal with it. Cry about it. Above all, read about it and participate actively in any part of the culture that you can embrace.
Hi Rob, got your comment on my posting in roamingthemind.com.
If you’re curious about my pedigree, I would recommend you read my book, The Jaguar that Roams the Mind, which recounts our work with Juan Flores.
Best, RT