Understanding PSIP

Psychedelic Somatic Interactional Psychotherapy (PSIP) is a trauma-focused therapeutic model developed by Saj Razvi and his team at the Psychedelic Somatic Institute. He was a clinical researcher in a MAPS Phase 2 trial of MDMA-assisted psychotherapy for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). His primary focus is on the wide scale adoption and accessibility of psychedelic assisted therapy through training therapists to work with psychedelics in private practice settings.

Psychedelics are highly experience-dependent medicines. Psychedelic substances change their expression and outcome depending on the context in which they are used. Unlike psychiatric medications like Prozac where it does not matter if you take it alone, or with friends, or in a therapy setting, psychedelics depend heavily on factors such as your internal psychological state, your assessment of whether your environment is able to support deep processing or not, and the person with whom you are working. 

For people wanting to engage with these substances recreationally, spiritually or simply out of curiosity, a ceremonial or group context will be fine and provide benefit. If you are looking to engage psychedelics as a medicine for working with mental health conditions such as anxiety, depression, dissociation, addiction, PTSD, complex relational trauma or existential concerns, you’ll want an individual, one-on-one, psychotherapy setting with a trained clinician. 

We reliably see that the processing and individual focus required for deep personal healing is simply not available in a group setting. Your system will naturally limit the depth of your work if you know you are in a group of people all needing time and attention from a lay practitioner. This is an appropriate evaluation of your environment and what it can and cannot provide.

Modes of consciousness. Human consciousness is capable of operating in two modes. The first is what neuroscientist and psychedelic researcher, Robin Carhart-Harris, at Imperial College has called primary consciousness (or PC). This type of consciousness is primitive, shared with other animals, It does not conceive of time or think abstractly, it is based in body sensations, emotions, imagery, and non-verbal memory. 

This type of cognition is not conscious, or rational, or linear, and it is a less organized, less filtered way of perceiving reality. The more primitive parts of your brain (brain stem, emotional processing limbic system, motor control and nervous system) work together to create primary consciousness. The important thing to know is that even though your mind doesn’t consciously operate in this mode most of the time, it’s still very much there under the surface of your awareness. This system is foundationally important to making you who you are. A great deal of your psychological functioning, and core programming about yourself, your relationships, and the world are stored here.

The second type of cognition is secondary consciousness (or SC). This is when your brain is operating in an ordinary, everyday, adult manner. It is capable of self-reflection, abstract meaning making, cognitive thought, and goal orientation. It is verbal, rational, linear, it perceives time and generates a conscious sense of self that you identify as being you. SC arises out of the most recently developed areas of the brain, that are organized by a key network known as the default mode network (DMN). 

The DMN is one of the most active parts of the brain, meaning it is constantly working to synchronize different areas to create secondary consciousness. Even when you are relaxed and not doing anything, this part of your brain is actively working to organize your sense of reality. The DMN is the conductor of an orchestra, and the music that orchestra makes is your ordinary, everyday way of perceiving yourself and the world. One of the ways the DMN achieves this organizing of experience is by suppressing primary consciousness, and the activity of the brain networks that produce primary consciousness.

The entire point of secondary consciousness is that it gives you a stable, predictable, and manipulatable sense of reality. For good or ill, modern civilization, medicine, literature, engineering, physics, landing on the moon are all thanks to the evolution of the DMN and secondary consciousness. 

Down side of secondary consciousness. As we mentioned, the DMN creates secondary consciousness by shutting down primary consciousness. One big downside to this is that there are natural, biological mechanisms in primary consciousness networks that are designed to naturally and effectively process stress, anxiety, depression, dissociation, PTSD symptoms and traumatic relationships. These mechanisms mostly have to do with your autonomic nervous system which is part of primary consciousness and not your thoughts which are part of secondary consciousness. 

The other big price we pay for an overactive DMN and secondary consciousness is that we lose intimacy with ourselves, with our emotions. The DMN is filtering reality so effectively that the sense of mystery, wonder, and awe are replaced by a rutted, predictable world. We develop a rigid ego structure that is correlated with depression. So, a suppressive DMN means we lose the ability to process life events that lead to many mental health symptoms, and we lose intimacy with ourselves and a larger sense of wonder. 

Psychedelic substances temporarily disrupt the DMN and secondary consciousness. We know from brain scans that classic psychedelic substances like psilocybin and ayahuasca disrupt the smooth functioning of the default mode network and cause secondary consciousness to temporarily fall apart. 

These substances don’t affect the areas of the brain responsible for primary consciousness. What this is telling us is that the main way psychedelics create their reaction is not by creating something new, but by disorganizing normal brain activity, in order to reveal and allow the body to process what is underneath. During this process diverse brain regions, not normally in communication, become strongly linked - as in the brain scans above depicting pre- and post-psilocybin states. 

Why is this a good thing? When secondary consciousness relaxes its organizing and filtering of reality, you get in touch with the wonderful features of primary consciousness. You feel more deeply, you feel more part of the world rather than apart from it, you are more interested in and open to experiences. You gain access to what has been underneath your conscious personality and ego structure the entire time: namely, your implicit self and all the experiences that have gone into creating it. Psychedelics are a catalyst that evoke your own internal world and engage your own natural biological, psychological and spiritual processes.

Let’s Talk About Life and Death

Woody Allen famously said: “I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens.” In that vein, research has revealed how concerns about mortality influence many types of human beliefs and behaviour: bad things like prejudice, intergroup conflict, terror and aggression; as well as largely good things like achievement, risk-taking, art and creativity.

What, you may ask, are we to make of it all in these times where we are surrounded by death; but nobody wants to broach the subject beyond sterile statistics? In his seminal work The Denial of Death, which was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction, anthropologist Ernest Becker introduced the premise that human civilization is a defence mechanism against the knowledge that we will die.

Becker argues that humans live in both a physical world of objects and a symbolic world of meaning. The symbolic part of human life engages in what he calls an “immortality project.” People try to create, or become part of, something which they believe will last forever ― art, music, literature, religion, nation-states, social and political movements etc. Such connections, we believe, give our lives meaning.

This is also Viktor Frankl’s claim in Man’s Search for Meaning, that mental anguish most often results from a lack of meaning. Thus, we had to justify ourselves from within ourselves. We tried to replace vital awe and wonder with a how-to-do-it manual; but it literally split us in two. So, we have an awareness of our own splendid uniqueness, and yet we go back into the ground to disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in; and to have to live with.

Moreover, Becker believed that our particular immortality projects are so important to us, that we can’t tolerate others suggesting that our beliefs are misguided. As he put it: “Modern (hu)man became psychological because (s)he became isolated from protective collective ideologies.”

Therefore, people deal with death by upholding worldviews that are larger and longer-lasting than themselves; and opposing anyone or anything that violates these ‘cultural anxiety-buffers’. Basically, the idea goes: the fear of death drives people to maintain faith in their own culture's beliefs and to follow paths to an enduring significance that will outlast their own physical death, often to the detriment of others who block their pursuit of these goals.

Thus, part of the human condition is living with a desire to continue to live plus an inherent fear of death on the one hand; and, on the other, the knowledge that this desire will inevitably be thwarted and that what is feared will inevitably occur. That creates an ever-present potential to experience the terror of no longer existing.

Our understanding of the complexity of the problem doesn’t end there though. Studies on how we cope with the inevitability of death i.e. terror management, have a fundamental flaw ― they lack a control group. It's impossible to test if (or how) a person changes their beliefs or behaviour when reminded of their mortality, because our awareness of this human condition never ceases.

As this awareness of mortality dawned on our ancestors, they were drawn to belief systems that helped them continue to function with equanimity. These worldviews virtually always included the idea of a literal afterlife for some aspect of oneself ― a soul ― but also included modes of transcending death via heroic deeds, great achievements, memorials and heirs.

Conversely, when modern people consciously think about death, they either act proactively to forestall it ― eat healthily, drink more water, exercise ― or rationalize why it won't be a problem for a while ― by quitting smoking, drinking and drugging soon ― or just try to distract themselves by turning on the TV, calling a friend or surfing the Internet. The goal is just to get those thoughts out of their own consciousness.

Also, when death is close to mind, people become more adamant in their beliefs and get extra-motivated to distance themselves from their physicality and to assert their symbolic value ― their intellect, achievements and so forth. They show off their skills, smarts, fitness and generosity. And these conscious ― proactive or evasive ― defences are only likely to be activated by consciously thinking about our own deaths.

However, knowing we're all vulnerable creatures, clinging to fragile beliefs to handle the existential predicament inherent in being human, helps us to become more compassionate people. It helps us to realize that, no matter how absurd someone else's beliefs seem, ours are likely no less absurd. And if such beliefs are helping that person function with equanimity, and not leading them to harm others, we should respect them.

Hannah Arendt once wrote that in times of deep crisis “we have a right to expect illumination”. It seems callous to suggest that the COVID-19 pandemic is letting the light in, and daft to offer immediate consolations amid so much grief. But there is a sense that, with the world having ground to a halt, our fantasies are finally taking flight and relieving us of some illusions at least.

Much of what we have always been told was impossible is actually happening: the homeless are (in some places) being housed in hotels while prisoners are (in others) being released. Kids are told not to go to school and to forget exams. Masses of migrants and asylum seekers have been ‘regularized’ and given full rights. It’s not quite a revolution, but it’s an epic conceptual awakening.

It also feels, paradoxically, as if the world has come right in some way. With our human death cult suddenly stopped, wildlife is returning with innocent ebullience. Bottlenose dolphins are playfully leaping in the waters around ports. Hares graze undisturbed in parks. Antelope stroll golf courses and paddle along sandy beaches, while birds have been nesting in the crooks of disused wing-mirrors on cars.

In some ways it’s like a blissed-out New Ager’s dream of what the world might be. The penny has also dropped that wellbeing isn’t individual, but social. We are not actually independent at all, but dependent. We can make each other sick; and we can try to make each other well. We’ve understood that a healthy community isn’t merely human; but includes its soil, its water, its air. It’s literally a matter of life and death.

In addition, the lockdown has made everything local. We’re rediscovering neighbours, the wisdom of close relationship is returning. We’re rediscovering that frugality and resourcefulness are creative, if not always comfortable. That grounding ourselves is both mental as well as physical. We made ourselves frenetically busy before to keep from reflecting; but now that we’re still our demons, voices and shame can quickly surface.

It’s showing us where our work remains. As we’re all pondering self-preservation, it’s inevitable that we’re wondering what has been eating us up all this time. While money is nice, caring about what we do with our lives is better, as true wealth is about experience. Still, we’ve been engaging in a consumptive gorging and purging that has left us weak and guilty.

Materialism has unleashed a life of invidious comparison, because physical worth is the only thing we give ourselves. Larger paycheques, bigger homes, flashier cars, cosmetic surgery. The list goes on. And so, we die when our little symbols of material specialness die. We built societies as hero systems which promised victory over evil and death; but these immortality projects are having the inverse effect of hastening our demise.

Let’s be realistic though. When you die, you’ll be forgotten. Perhaps your family, friends and the people you love may remember you. But your ideas? They’ll be gone. When you die, you as a concept, will also die. But no matter how bad you think life is, no matter how many mistakes you made throughout your lifetime, people forget. They do. Amazingly, we’re free to make mistakes that will be forgotten. And, maybe, that’s what it really means to be human.

Nevertheless, when it comes to immortality our reach inevitably continues to exceed our grasp. We discover that, improving our lives hinges not on our ability to turn lemons into lemonade, but on learning to stomach lemons better. Once we embrace our fears, faults and uncertainties we begin to find our courage, perseverance, honesty, responsibility and curiosity ― and the forgiveness we all long for.

However, that’s just one part of our story. The enduring human spirit is an extraordinary phenomenon of nature. Even though heroism, for most of us, is subtle and quiet; about restraint, retreat, solitude and stillness. Our human quest is possibly even harder; to discern the common good and to look for awakening and awareness in the time we have to conduct this life. By understanding, and accepting death, we can finally free ourselves to live meaningfully.

Nhora, Jubilee and the Concept of Debt

The streets are empty, all but the essential businesses are shuttered. Schools and universities are closed till further notice. Transportation has slowed to a trickle; and commercial supply chains have all but ground to a halt. Humanity is huddled in isolated shelter, hoping it will all be over soon. But, the losses are mounting on all fronts. Expecting a return to business-as-usual is predictable, albeit naïve.

The overhang of debt building up due to the COVID-19 crisis will make eventual recovery particularly tenuous. Some analysts believe we’re already into a global depression; but obviously in denial about it. That then begs the question, “What is debt really… beyond an asset class for lenders, and a liability for borrowers?” To unpack debt requires looking at what underpins ‘ownership’; and that’s primarily our attitude towards property, specifically land.

“Land… they don’t make the stuff anymore” goes the expression. Yet, we unquestioningly assume our existence based on it. The question parents dread to hear is when their children want to know who made the world. Whether the response is God, the Universe, physics or Douglas Adams’ algorithmically endowed mice; the inescapable fact is that humans can’t really own the planet, because we didn’t make it. Not according to current convention anyway.   

The rather difficult metaphysical problem of celestial accretion aside, we should be able to at least agree that, until we come across the original owner of Earth in person, the planet is a ‘loaner’ for now. And that goes for everything it produces at no cost. It also assumes that we will be able to afford the asking price, if in fact it’s even for sale. How bereft of philosophical heft our economic practice appears, when applied at this level. 

So, what on earth do land, ownership and debt still mean? Well, if you’re a descendant of First Nation peoples, the former is primary; but the latter are superfluous. You’ll have no concept of dominion over nature. Your language won’t even have possessive pronouns. As such, the Kalahari San concept of Nhora, the proto-custodianship model for all societies over the last 200,000 years, provides many of the ethical ideas we should practice today. 

Each tiny clan of San hunter-gatherers take care of a nhoresi, a defined piece of ancestral land, on behalf of the Sky God; with the understanding that it cannot be ‘owned’, but is held in ‘trust’ by its custodians for the benefit of the clan and any people who may traverse it. Ergo, hereditary custodial rights rather than modern property ownership, which the San never knew, nor debt till settlers introduced it.  

By contrast, until 600 BCE, in the biblical practice of jubilee the Israelites rested from their labour and allowed the land to rest (among other things). As the sabbatical years occurred every seven years jubilee was then celebrated at the end of seven cycles of sabbatical years - the 50th year (or 49th, as some argue). It was really a semi-centennial national expiration of land leases. 

Thus, biblical jubilee did not involve the forgiveness of debt, but the celebration of a debt paid by leasing the land and recouping its crop potential; therefore, there was no redistribution of wealth. If there were bountiful harvests each year, then the profit remained in the hands of the one who had leased the land.  

But, since God owned the land according to the Bible, he gave the Promised Land to the tribes of Israel with the condition that private property cannot be sold, squandered or given away permanently. If a lender leased the best land available and diligently worked to make it productive, they could accumulate significant assets prior to each jubilee. That would allow them, over time, to accumulate effective control over land without actual ownership.

This was all good and well for a while, but there were some structural problems. What then spelled the end for the jubilee concept? For one thing, the shares of land were unequal to begin with. The Levites got no land; first-born sons received twice the land given to the other sons; daughters neither owned nor inherited anything; and non-Israelites had no share in the land at all.

So, while the jubilee law did prevent all the land from being owned by a few families, it did not prevent some from becoming much wealthier than others. Although jubilee set limits on the rich getting richer, and the poor getting poorer, with regard to the permanent acquisition of land; it did not necessarily prevent income inequality. 

Furthermore, the people whom the biblical jubilee helped were not the poor, but the families of original affluence. The jubilee guaranteed that they endured in their landed affluence regardless of whether they wanted, or deserved, it. What the jubilee did was to periodically restore property and power to the old families, the true Israelites.

Fast forward to today and the modern Debt Jubilee Movement has dropped the original biblical context; but is making political, economic and moral arguments for extinguishing all, or some, of the debt the world is drowning in. Specifically demanding that dishonourable debt should not be honoured. Case in point being South Africa still labouring under the apartheid regime’s debt. Of course, there are many other examples of dishonourable debt throughout history. As the global financial system staggers from crisis to crisis, the biblical writing is on the wall. 

So, is a debt jubilee the answer to our woes - a providential gift, so to speak? From an economic perspective, the answer is likely to be no - at least for a full version of it. However, there might be an argument for targeted debt forgiveness; or at least lenient and well-ordered bankruptcies containing forgiveness in especially acute cases.

The experience of developing country debt forgiveness suggests that forgiveness did have the desired effect of freeing up resources, which could then go to more pressing development needs. However, some resources thus freed up got wasted anyway; and an argument was also made that forgiving loans frittered away by governments merely encourages such recklessness in the future. This certainly could be a risk for a modern debt jubilee.

Nevertheless, a debt jubilee is said to be more ethical or moral than current arrangements. Which may very well be true, although not necessarily in step with current economic theory. That said, the custodianship-versus-ownership debate is making a major comeback. Our planetary convulsions of natural disasters, pandemics, military conflicts and policy failures sweep across the land; and stand in stark contrast to the image we have of ourselves as a species. 

With so many entrenched interests at risk, including life itself, our modern assumptions are being tested as never before. As we reflect, in our isolation, on the complexity of the society we’ve created; we’re confronted with the unavoidable reality that cleverness bears little resemblance to wisdom. In a sense, it’s back to the future for us. To rediscover our egalitarian roots, to be fraternal. To find courage in our vulnerability. To flourish, not just survive. 

The digitization and atomization of society, that’s accelerating, will continue to disrupt our lives. We probably need a Google Doc for all of civilization now, to continuously update all the learnings taking place at massively accelerated clock speed. We certainly don’t want to be the people who make humanity’s last stand. Fortunately, almost every problem becomes easier when we think really long term. Seven generations according to First Nation wisdom.

How Do You Feel About Death By Climate Change?

As we become sensitized to the increased frequency and intensity of major storms, droughts and wildfires there’s a feeling of impending doom building up. The awesome power of nature has never been more evident. What’s even more disturbing is that human beings are the catalyst, the cause of it all.

True to type, our default responses are fight, flight or freeze. These primal survival instincts cause us to variously cycle through being angry and looking to blame, feeling sad and succumbing to helplessness and despair; or withdrawing by going into outright denial.

Cape Town’s recent Day Zero crisis put a human face on what seems a distant threat; as does the current drought in the Northern Cape, as well as the KZN coastal plain storms and flooding. It’s common cause that the impacts of climate change compound the multiple social stressors that already beset the populace; and heightens pre-existing vulnerabilities (Chersich, 2018).

However, terms such as ‘climate change’ and ‘global warming’ draw attention to the global scale, rather than the personal impacts. As climate change irrevocably changes people’s lived landscapes, large numbers are likely to experience a feeling that they are losing a place that is important to them - a phenomenon called solastalgia, which is especially prevalent amongst migrants from climate disasters.

Hence, we can argue that ecological grief is a legitimate response to ecological loss. Such grief inevitably manifests in further emotional distress. The World Health Organization estimates that by 2030 depression will become our most burdensome illness; more than cancer, diabetes and respiratory diseases combined.

Estimates are that as many as 25.6% of South African employees will be diagnosed with depression over their course of employment. Only 15% to 25% will seek and receive help. Furthermore, Alexander Forbes Health Management Solutions suggests that 35% of all temporary-incapacity leave applications, from their sample of corporate clients, are due to mental and behavioural issues.

Our government spends only 5% of the health budget on mental health - but mental health costs to the economy are up to six times the cost of its treatment. Loss of earnings from depression is estimated at ZAR54,121 per adult per year; a total of R40 billion (or 2.2%) of the country’s gross domestic product.

Clearly the cost of climate change to business, as the largest employer, has become an existential threat. The risks are not just quantitative in the material sense; but also qualitative in the human context. People are still the largest expense, and therefore exposure, to any organization.

By extension, we are now collectively facing the reality that remedial action alone is no longer enough. Climate change is not going away, and will intensify. With South Africa warming at twice the global average, we have no choice but to respond pro-actively to protect our biggest resource... people.

As employers have traditionally made human capital investments in their employees for the purposes of personal effectiveness and productivity, additional support is now required concerning the impact of climate change; but also to leverage the climate adaptation opportunities that a ‘green’ economy will inevitably bring, such as the innovation horsepower amongst sustainability-savvy Millennials.

What does this all mean? Climate change is still a relatively unknown subject for most executives, let alone managers and staff. Like most organizational change it begins with education. Progressive firms will have planned and communicated quantitative strategies by now; such as securing material operational means.

The concern is that hardly any attention is being paid to the qualitative side of the problem. Most HR departments do not have a strategy to cope with the increasing impacts of climate change, let alone a policy or budget for applying resources on a proactive basis. Responses are, for the most part, reactive.

What it reflects back at us are known as the psychological barriers to climate change such as: (1) ignorance of the problem; (2) undervaluing of distant or future risks; (3) rationalizations for a variety of deviant behaviors; (4) depending on technosalvation through mechanical innovation; (5) fear of being victimized by free-riders; (6) exposure to sunk costs and stranded assets; (7) mistrust, discredence and inaction.

While the above is not a definitive list of barriers, they do begin to explain why qualitative adaptation to climate change is such a difficult problem. The human brain has not evolved much in thousands of years. At the time it reached its current physical development our ancestors were mainly concerned with their immediate band, immediate dangers, exploitable resources and the present time. Sound familiar?

None of those are naturally consistent with being concerned, in the 21st century, about global climate change; which is relatively slow, usually distant and mostly unrelated to the present welfare of ourselves and our significant others. Obviously, our ancient brain is capable of dealing with global climate change, but doing so does not come easily.

So, what are we to do? For a start, we should pay attention to what two important groups are saying, namely: Indigenous people, who stand in an unbroken 200,000 year old line of planetary custodians; and Millennials, who will inherit the climate change problem and implement solutions which suit them.

Following that, we need to raise awareness in a hurry. We cannot fix a problem unless we acknowledge it. This means sector and organization-wide climate education interventions. Climate change will eventually affect every human being on the planet, therefore all people need to be informed as a matter of urgency.

It stands to reason that THE global issue demands a global response; and devolves down to the regional, national and local level. In short, all hands are required on deck. By implication this bottom-up approach will also invert traditional hierarchies and power structures. Yet another adaptive lesson in the process.

Whenever civilization has had its back to the wall in the past, it has tended to reach back into its history for solutions. It’s likely that the core values of Indigenous Knowledge Systems will be foregrounded once more; such as reciprocity, humility, even-temperedness, generosity, conviviality and a deep respect for nature.

First Nation peoples prevent lying by being transparent; prevent theft by sharing what they have; prevent conflict by being inter-dependent; and prevent competition by sharing all knowledge. They identify with open-endedness and aligning with the cycles of nature; modeling flexibility, adaptability, diversity, fluidity and tolerance for ambiguity. It’s a pretty good strategy for building climate resilience.

Of course, we are a Westernized society today; replete with the conditioning and advantages that brings. The blended learning that’s going to be required for qualitative climate change adaptation, will also need to incorporate a deeper understanding of ethics to promote critical thinking.

In the final analysis, climate change is fundamentally a behavioural problem.