Igor Domsac | June 20, 2025
Language, in addition to communicating, can become an ideological tool. Words are not only vehicles of information, but also construct realities. And, in the field of drug policy, the words used determine who is criminalized, which practices are delegitimized, and which knowledge is rendered invisible. Terms such as “illegal drugs,” “addictions,” and “abuse” are not neutral. On the contrary, they reflect and perpetuate a prohibitionist framework that, beyond its legal implications, has cultural, social, and epistemic consequences that permeate all areas of our society.
Furthermore, language directly influences the design and implementation of public health policies. An approach focused on harm reduction and care based on human dignity requires the elimination of terms laden with guilt or marginalization. Recognizing traditional and spiritual knowledge as a legitimate part of therapeutic support can broaden the range of clinical responses and offer more comprehensive paths to healing that are respectful of cultural diversity.
Organizations such as Dianova have highlighted that the use of stigmatizing terms contributes to reinforcing negative stereotypes and hindering access to treatment. In its report entitled The Power of Words, this organization emphasizes the importance of adopting language that respects people’s dignity and avoids perpetuating prejudices associated with substance use. However, even well-intentioned initiatives like this often rely on terms such as “illegal drugs,” which—despite their widespread use—carry embedded assumptions rooted in prohibitionist thinking. This highlights the complexity of addressing stigma without also questioning the language frameworks through which it is reproduced. The same perspective has been endorsed by other international organizations, such as MedlinePlus Magazine, which explains how stigmatizing language directly affects addiction treatment, and by the National Institute on Drug Abuse, which has published a guide to preferred terms for discussing substance use.
Also in Spain, UNAD (Addiction Care Network) has developed guidelines to combat stigma from a rights-based approach, as has the National Council for Mental Wellbeing in the United States, which emphasizes the importance of person-centered language. Similarly, legal and media discourse often presents the “illegality” of certain species and substances as an unquestionable fact, when in reality it is prohibitionist pseudo-legalese, incorrect terms that normalise the arbitrary, and selective application of sanction. This paradigm ignores traditional contexts where plants are used for ritual, healing, or spiritual purposes, and where their use is legitimized by centuries of cultural practice. Speaking of “illegality” without nuance — i.e. about a thing, rather than an action — contributes to a simplistic narrative that does not do justice to the complexity of the phenomenon.
Naming is deciding: the power of terminology
The diversity of practices involving species with psychoactive properties — whether plant, animal, or fungal — requires equally rich and nuanced terminology. However, in practical terms, the expressions used by the media, institutions, and even lawyers are often imprecise and frequently carry colonial, pathologizing, or criminalizing connotations.
Terms such as “drug,” “narcotic,” or “narcotic drug” not only lack scientific rigor—since they mix pharmacological, legal, and social categories—but also perpetuate the stigma of the people involved. Instead, it is preferable to use more neutral and precise expressions such as “plants that may produce psychoactive effects,” “substances with visionary potential,” or “plants traditionally used in ritual contexts,” depending on the context. These terms shift the focus from the object to the relational experience, and each highlights a specific dimension—biochemical, spiritual, cultural, or ecological.
A study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy recommends using people-centered language, avoiding pejorative terms such as “addict” or “criminal,” and being specific rather than generalizing. It also highlights the importance of including people affected by drug use in the selection of terms, respecting their preferences and adapting the vocabulary according to the context. This responsibility falls particularly on the media, whose dominant narrative often amplifies prohibitive or pathologizing frameworks. More informed and respectful coverage could contribute decisively to destigmatizing these practices and generating a more nuanced public debate.
People-first language proposes a form of communication that puts human identity above any condition, diagnosis, or characteristic, with the aim of avoiding stigma and promoting respect. Instead of using terms that reduce people to a label — such as “drug addict” or ‘alcoholic’ — it proposes expressions such as “person with substance use disorder.” This approach has been adopted in areas such as health, disability, and substance-related issues, and seeks to humanize discourse by recognizing each individual’s dignity, regardless of their circumstances.
Moreover, reducing stigma requires more than respectful language toward people who use substances—it also demands a critical look at the conceptual frameworks embedded in the terms we use. Phrases like “illegal drugs,” “addictive drugs,” “medicalized drugs,” “legalized drugs,” or “decriminalized drugs” attribute legal, medical, or moral qualities to the substances themselves, as if they had agency. Other expressions such as “war on drugs,” “regulated drugs,” “taxed drugs,” or the categories “licit” and “illicit,” reinforce a binary narrative that dehumanizes and obscures the fact that what is criminalized or regulated are specific behaviors and contexts — not the substances per se. This type of language — seemingly technical or neutral — ultimately sustains the logic of prohibition and hinders a more nuanced, humane understanding of the issue.
Simplification as a form of cultural violence
One of the most harmful consequences of imprecise language is the tendency toward simplification. This reduction manifests itself in various ways, such as omitting the ritual and cultural context of Indigenous practices or reducing the traditional use of certain plants to their active ingredient or modern therapeutic potential. This reductionism can be considered a form of epistemic violence, stripping traditional practices of their symbolic, relational, and spiritual richness and reframing them under biomedical or commercial logic. Correct naming, in this sense, constitutes an act of reparation and respect.
Terminological imprecision not only affects public or academic discourse: it can also have serious legal consequences. The principle of legality requires that criminal laws be drafted in a clear, precise, and predictable manner. The ambiguous use of legal concepts can open the door to arbitrary interpretations and unfair application of the law.
In many countries, the absence of differentiated frameworks for the traditional uses of species with psychoactive properties leads to Indigenous people or facilitators with ancestral training being treated as criminals, rather than as bearers of legitimate ancestral knowledge. Here, precision in language also represents a tool for justice.
Towards an ecology of language
Talking about ayahuasca, iboga, peyote, or toad without considering the social, ecological, and cultural contexts in which these practices take place is as problematic as ignoring the supply chains or the impact of Western demand on these species. Precision in language must be accompanied by an ethical perspective that includes reciprocity, sustainability, and respect for the self-determination of custodial peoples. Recognizing the importance of “sacred reciprocity” in Indigenous traditions — a commitment that goes beyond superficial recognition to include concrete actions of support and retribution — is key to avoiding cultural appropriation and promoting truly equitable dialogue.
In this sense, language must not only be accurate: it must also be positioned from an ethical standpoint. Naming does not simply mean describing, but rather situating oneself. And in contexts of epistemic colonialism, language can represent both an instrument of domination and a tool for decolonization. A commitment to transforming drug policies and destigmatizing ancestral medicines necessarily involves a thorough review of our vocabulary. And questioning the paradigm of drug “legality” is the first step toward opening a truly democratic and inclusive debate.
This discursive transformation should also be reflected in the curricula of key professions—such as law, medicine, psychology, and journalism—where educational inertia persists, reproducing stigmas or rendering intercultural approaches invisible. Incorporating critical pedagogy on language can be a fundamental step in reversing these trends from the ground up. Various organizations and committed voices are promoting a more precise, ethical, and culturally informed grammar. Because it is not simply about how we say things: it is about who we listen to, who we silence, and what worlds we allow to exist with our words.
Can plants be illegal?
At the heart of debates on drugs and public policy lies a question that may seem simple but has profound implications: can a plant be illegal? This is one of the issues raised by Darryl Bickler, a British lawyer and founder of the Drug Equality Alliance, who argues that it is not plants or substances themselves that are illegal, but specific human actions related to them if conducted without lawful authorisation, exemption, license or prescription. “Substances cannot be inherently illegal. They have no agency, they do not commit acts. What should be legally evaluated is human behavior in specific contexts, not the mere existence of a plant,” explains Bickler. Exemptions and licenses ought to be the norm, and most laws have these provisions waiting to be deployed.
For decades, international legal frameworks have restricted access to substances such as DMT, psilocybin, and mescaline. Although personal use is not explicitly prohibited in many jurisdictions, the control of property-related acts — such as possession, cultivation, or distribution — has had the side effect of criminalizing traditional practices involving living beings that naturally contain these compounds, such as ayahuasca, psilocybin mushrooms, or the San Pedro cactus. From this perspective, legal frameworks should distinguish between use and misuse, focusing control on specific actions that may pose risks to public safety — such as unauthorized distribution — rather than penalizing the simple act of possessing or cultivating natural elements that have been used for centuries for medicinal, spiritual, and cultural purposes. What sense does it make to treat the mere possession of a plant as a crime, without considering the context of its use?
A change of view from a human rights perspective
At ICEERS, we have been working in this direction for more than a decade. Through the Ayahuasca Defense Fund (ADF), we have provided legal support to people persecuted for their traditional and spiritual ties to psychoactive plants. Our approach is based on a clear principle: cultural and therapeutic practices should be protected, not criminalized. Judicial decisions based on strict interpretations of drug control treaties tend to ignore human rights, cultural rights, and freedom of conscience.
Natalia Rebollo, an international human rights lawyer, has developed a conceptual framework that distinguishes three forms of legal interpretation in these cases: restrictive, conciliatory, and biocultural. The latter proposes understanding the use of psychoactive plants in their ritual and ancestral contexts, recognizing them as part of the cultural and spiritual heritage of peoples. “Plants are not drugs. They are living beings with which certain cultures have developed deep bonds. The law must recognize and respect this dimension,” Natalia points out.
Moving towards a real recognition of these practices also involves designing intercultural legal frameworks that integrate different ways of understanding health, spirituality, and nature. This requires the law to open up to epistemic plurality, where ancestral knowledge and Indigenous normative systems are considered legitimate and valid. In Europe, too, some judges and jurists are beginning to express reservations about the current legal interpretation of these substances. The emeritus judge of the Spanish Supreme Court, Joaquín Giménez, has publicly stated that “considering the entire plant to be a drug is barbaric,” referring in particular to cannabis.
For their part, some countries in Latin America have begun to debate legislation that recognizes the right to self-cultivation as an expression of personal and spiritual freedom. In Chile, for example, a law has been discussed that protects the use of psychoactive plants from a fundamental rights perspective. The so-called criminalization of certain plants is, in fact, the criminalization of the people who access and relate to them. What is sanctioned are specific human actions, but the effect is a form of state interference in private life, including spirituality, healing, and cognitive liberty. Advocates of legal reform argue that it is necessary to move toward a model that respects self-determination and the freedom to engage with these species in meaningful and culturally rooted ways.
Nature, spirituality, and traditions
Criminalizing access to plants not only creates legal injustices. It also interrupts personal and collective processes of healing and self-knowledge, and silences living traditions that have preserved this wisdom for centuries. Beyond the legal sphere, there is growing recognition of the cultural and spiritual value of the use of master plants such as ayahuasca, iboga, and psilocybin-containing mushrooms. Although their active ingredients are controlled, they are not “drugs,” but rather vehicles for connecting with deeper dimensions of being and catalysts for community bonding.
Benjamin De Loenen, executive director and founder of ICEERS, argues that the globalization of these plants should benefit “all communities involved, in the first place the Indigenous cultures and territories, and the sophisticated knowledge systems these Peoples have safeguarded for many, many generations.” From this perspective, treating them as just another drug within the Western prohibitionist paradigm constitutes a form of cultural dispossession.
At ICEERS, we believe in the need to rethink the prohibitionist paradigm. Instead of condemning our connection with nature, let us focus on promoting legal frameworks that respect human rights, cultural diversity, and the sacred relationship that many peoples have with these medicines, harmonizing them with the need to regulate potentially problematic practices. This implies decriminalizing peaceful adult possession or cultivation of plants and fungi, and focusing legal efforts on preventing real harm, not on repressing legitimate cultural practices, and respecting our private lives and cognitive liberty.
These voices remind us that we cannot continue to blame nature for human actions. Plants do not commit crimes — so why do we speak of “decriminalizing plants”? This kind of language reflects the confusion at the heart of poorly designed policies that often cause more harm than they prevent. Such policies fail to distinguish between abusive and peaceful behaviour, and rely on misleading labels like “legal” or “illegal” drugs — terms that obscure the real issue: how we regulate human relationships with these substances.
Do plants have rights?
In recent decades, various thinkers and scientists have questioned the traditional view that considers plants to be mere passive objects, proposing instead to recognize their legal and moral rights. Science journalist Alessandra Viola, in her book Flower Power, argues that plants are sentient, social, and intelligent beings, and asks, “Who decided that men, women, children, and animals deserve rights, while plants do not?” However, this idea raises an important issue from a legal perspective: rights are exercised by rights-bearing subjects. When people speak of “plant rights,” what they often mean is the human right to intervene or advocate on behalf of non-human beings. The same logic applies to children or animals: it is not that they possess rights in the full legal sense, but rather that legal systems provide specific protections for them. This distinction is crucial—no matter how valid the intention to protect the vulnerable—because such protection is not achieved by granting rights per se, but by establishing legal frameworks that safeguard their well-being.
Viola has proposed a Universal Declaration of Plant Rights, seeking legal protection that reflects their intrinsic value. Plant neurobiologist Stefano Mancuso supports this view, highlighting that plants possess complex forms of intelligence and communication. However, while these capacities challenge the idea that plants are passive or insentient, they do not imply legal agency. Applying human legal concepts to plants can be misleading, as rights and responsibilities are attributes of persons—not of organisms without the capacity to participate in legal processes. For her part, biologist and writer Robin Wall Kimmerer, from an Indigenous perspective, emphasizes the reciprocity between humans and plants, considering the latter as relatives and teachers who deserve respect and care.
These voices converge on the idea that criminalizing our relationship with plants for their chemical composition or psychoactive properties constitutes a form of epistemic and ecological violence. Instead of prohibiting their existence, they propose legal approaches that recognize their cultural, spiritual, and ecological value, focusing on regulating human uses that may be harmful. This paradigm shift invites us to reconsider our relationship with the plant world, promoting a more just and sustainable legal framework.
Ultimately, the language we use to talk about species that enable us to experience psychoactive states is not merely a discursive accessory: it is a tool of power that shapes policies, perceptions, and realities. Choosing our words carefully also means choosing which ethical, cultural, and political framework we align ourselves with. At a time of growing debate about decriminalization, cultural rights, and sustainability, there is an urgent need to adopt a communicative approach that combines terminological precision, intercultural sensitivity, and respect for human rights. Rethinking how we name plants and the knowledge that accompanies them is not a minor semantic issue, but a way to heal historical wounds, combat stigma, and move toward a more just coexistence with the diversity of worlds that inhabit this planet. Plants are not legal or illegal, dangerous or safe. We can only consider our interactions with them as such. And words, when spoken with awareness, can become seeds of transformation.
Categories:
NEWS
, HUMAN RIGHTS
Tags:
Human Rights
, drug policy
, psychoactive plants
, descolonización
, lenguaje
, palabras
, words
, language
, decolonization