The Rise of Self-Proclaimed Shamans

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Chemical Collective or any associated parties.

In the search for alternative methods of healing, people may want to turn to what is seen as a more natural, human, holistic, and deeper form of healing – namely, shamanism. Shamanism can, quite broadly, be defined as a tradition of religious specialists who act as mediators with spirits and the spirit realm. Through the induction of altered states of consciousness, these specialists (often referred to as shamans) can access these otherworldly beings and realms and thereby heal individuals (both physically and mentally), heal the community, influence nature, foretell the future, and perform rituals to ensure a good hunt.

Many Indigenous cultures around the world practise a form of shamanism, and this tradition of healing and spirituality may be at least 40,000 years old (as evidenced by certain cave paintings), but it is perhaps much older than this. Indeed, the anthropologist Michael Winkelman has written about the evolutionary advantages of shamanism, which may have been key to our survival in our evolutionary past.

Because of the rich traditions of shamanism in certain cultures and its focus on spiritual healing, many people in the New Age, wellness, and psychedelic spaces become attracted to it as an alternative healing modality. Shamanism may have much to teach us about so-called ‘mental illnesses’ and how we view and practise healing. Yet in search of these potential benefits, people can run into trouble. This is because there exist many self-proclaimed shamans, who can proliferate because of the increased interest in, and demand for, shamanic healing. (Other, more pejorative terms for these self-proclaimed shamans include plastic shamans, fake shamans, pseudo-shamans, and sham-shamans.)

What is a Self-Proclaimed Shaman?

Self-proclaimed shamans are people who call themselves shamans, and promote themselves as such, but often have no connection to the traditions or cultures they claim to represent. They are people without a shamanic lineage or training in shamanism. (In traditional societies, shamanic training varies in length, but it generally takes years; you don’t become a shaman after an intensive, multi-week course.) In some cases, self-proclaimed shamans do have some connection to the culture they claim to represent, but others belonging to that culture view them as exploiting cultural knowledge for the sake of ego, money, status, fame, power, or sex.

The self-proclaimed shaman, therefore, can be either an Indigenous or non-Indigenous person. They often use the trappings of Indigenous shamanism (e.g. Native American and Amazonian symbols and terms) to sell ceremonies or to foster personal gain in other ways (e.g. promoting their spiritualised or psychedelicised egos.) On the one hand, referring to yourself as a shaman may feel sincere, based on a recognition of one’s own – or others’ recognition of your own – ability to navigate altered states and support others’ navigation of these spaces.

On the other hand, it is legitimate to be wary and sceptical of the self-proclaimed title of ‘shaman’, especially since this title is based on an individual’s self-assessment and not the assessment of a shamanic teacher or culture. Many (Western) organisations do offer intensive shamanic training, but these may only last a matter of weeks; so there is a danger that some students will self-identify as shamans after completing these courses, positioning themselves as experts as guides for others’ altered states of consciousness. And this expertise may not be at all justified.

The Rise of the Self-Proclaimed Shaman (and Why This is Troubling)

Self-proclaimed shamans have increased in numbers in concert with the rise in the popularity of ayahuasca (and psychedelic ceremonies/retreats more generally). Andrea, a student from Lima in Peru, told Grazia:

Whenever people hear I am Peruvian now, they don’t only mention Machu Picchu but also Ayahuasca. They are eager to know if I have taken it and how it was. I usually disappoint them by saying I haven’t, and telling them how important it is to respect the ceremony and realise the importance and intensity of the whole experience – which means not doing it in the US or London with a white ‘neo-shaman’. Foreigners own most of the new retreat centres. Consequently, lot[s] of pseudo-shamans have arisen – not just gringos [white foreigners], but also Peruvians from Lima, people with indigenous heritage, and even people from indigenous communities. But none of them have been prepared to conduct the ceremony or provide proper support to participants. They decontextualise and modify the Ayahuasca ceremony, not only because it is taken out of the environment where the plant is from, but also because some aspects of the ritual (or even the whole ritual itself) are modified to fit the modern western rational[e].

Sometimes, self-proclaimed shamans based in Europe and North America use various clothing, symbols, artefacts, music, songs, and terms associated with Indigenous shamanism, as this can assure his or her clients that they are legitimate, knowledgeable, and trustworthy. But not respecting these aspects of shamanism can be problematic, as Andrea points out, among other concerns:

[T]he ritual and its different aspects (such as the “ícaros” or sacred chants sang by the shaman) are not just accessories, but part of the healing “power” that Ayahuasca provides. It also occurs in the environment where the plant grows and together with a community that has a key role in providing the containment needed during the healing process, which doesn’t occur only while you are taking it. Everything is entangled; one can’t exist without the other. Many people don’t have proper information, are not well-prepared for the ceremony, and unaware of the consequences it might have on their lives.

Tripsitter has noted the rise of ‘psychotourism (psychedelic tourism)’ in countries like Peru, Costa Rica, Mexico, Jamaica, and the Netherlands. The increase in self-proclaimed shamans emerging as a result of this demand for psychedelic ceremonies has led to people being ripped off, sexually abused, or suffering other forms of harm (and sometimes losing their lives). Fake shamans (mostly men) are selling novice users and vulnerable or desperate individuals the promise of spiritual enlightenment, cures for physical and psychological problems, and personal transformation. And they are doing so by cloaking their promises in the garb of Indigenous healing wisdom, knowledge, and practices.

We should be concerned about the rise of self-proclaimed shamans because, as Tripsitter stresses, “Plastic shamans market themselves and their services despite minimal training and often demonstrate a blatant disregard for both safety and ethical boundaries upheld by Indigenous tradition.” Their pursuit of monetary or egotistical gains, combined with their disregard for safety and ethics, makes them particularly dangerous to work with.

All of this means that one has to be extra careful when choosing to join a psychedelic ceremony/retreat and work with someone who identifies as a shaman. I wrote a piece for Psychedelic Support about how to identify trustworthy retreats (and avoid shady ones), and some of this tackles the subject of shady shamans. Anyone thinking of joining a psychedelic retreat should first familiarise with the shaman(s) as much as possible. You should feel convinced that they will prioritise your safety, interests, comfort, and well-being. Read as many reviews of the retreat centre as possible: Do these consistently describe the shaman as warm, skilled, and dependable? (Also be conscious of the fact that some reviews are more like testimonials, requested from participants by the retreat organisers.) In the article for Psychedelic Support, I emphasise:

Of course, any facilitator, guide, or shaman can build a rosy picture of who they are and what they offer. Separating fact from fiction—or authenticity from rhetoric—can be difficult, especially when someone is essentially promoting their services. Trusting your gut, intuition, and instincts matters in these situations. Don’t ignore this reaction if you feel uneasy about what you’re reading or seeing. Be skeptical if a facilitator makes unsupported claims or big promises, focuses on selling themselves, or shows signs of an inflated ego.

A Note on the Term ‘Shaman’

An interesting point about the term ‘shaman’ was raised in an article on the Indigenous uses of psychedelics, published by the BBC. The article states:

Having studied documents on Aztec medicine, González Romero has found that music, particularly drumming, has long played a role in psychedelic ceremonies as it reflects the beat of the heart, and is thought to aid a trance-like state which can facilitate creative expression. He explains that while we commonly use the word “shaman” to describe the practitioner who leads these ceremonies, this is a colonial concept. Instead, the term used by some indigenous communities directly translates as “the one who sings”.

The journalist Mattha Busy raises a similar point in an article for Psychedelics.com:

In the 18th century, outside explorers found the practices of Siberian shamans curious. Soon enough, the word was applied to individuals from a whole series of diverse communities across the world who worked with natural medicines (psychedelic and non-psychoactive), healing, and rituals. It’s a classic colonial encounter: the Western worldview being confronted with something ‘other’ and assuming there is a singular thing called shamanism,” writes ecology lecturer Andy Letcher in his book Shroom: a Cultural History of the Magic Mushroom.

The term ‘shaman’ them may, because of its historial and cultural uses, distort and narrowly define what shamanism is. Self-proclaimed shamans could be using the title of ‘shaman’ to project precisely this Westernised picture of shamanism, either instilling this image of shamanism in ceremony participants for the first time or reinforcing its assumptions. Part of this Westernised picture may involve, as already noted, a stripping away of cultural heritage, wisdom, knowledge, and community. Yuria Celidwen, a senior academic at the University of California, Berkeley, states in the BBC article:

It’s not the molecule itself, it is the larger constellation of relationships that are created that brings the healing. In the West, we often observe a peak of wellbeing right after the initial exposure to the medicine, but it isn’t sustained because there is no collective context to the hallucinogenic experience. And because of that, you just risk creating another addiction because people keep going back to get the same sense of magic or wonder.

Self-proclaimed shamans in the West may not be offering people these cultural and community containers, thus limiting their ability to heal psychological wounds. If one is seeking sustained healing through shamanism, the relational and collective dimension could be essential. Yet psychedelic practitioners, facilitators, and guides can also take this into account and thereby offer more effective healing modalities for clients, without the need to identify as a shaman.

While legitimate shamans do exist, and do offer ceremonies for Westerners, in the current climate, it’s wise to be careful when encountering someone who calls themself a shaman.

Sam Woolfe | Community Blogger at Chemical Collective | www.samwoolfe.com

Sam is one of our community bloggers here at Chemical Collective. If you’re interested in joining our blogging team and getting paid to write about subjects you’re passionate about, please reach out to David via email at blog@chemical-collective.com