Journeying to Ixtlan: Ethics of Psychedelic Medicine and Research for Alzheimer’s Disease and Related Dementias
This review (2022) investigates six ethical issues concerning psychedelic medicine and research involving persons living with Alzheimer's Disease (AD)/ADRD, including autonomy, consent, ego dissolution, caregiving, exploitation of patient desperation, and methods to mitigate inequity.
Authors
- Karlawish, J.
- Largent, E. A.
- Lynch, H. F.
Published
Abstract
In this paper, we examine the case of psychedelic medicine for Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias (AD/ADRD). These “mind-altering” drugs are not currently offered as treatments to persons with AD/ADRD, though there is growing interest in their use to treat underlying causes and associated psychiatric symptoms. We present a research agenda for examining the ethics of psychedelic medicine and research involving persons living with AD/ADRD, and offer preliminary analyses of six ethical issues: the impact of psychedelics on autonomy and consent; the impact of “ego dissolution” on persons experiencing a pathology of self; how psychedelics might impact caregiving; the potential exploitation of patient desperation; institutional review boards’ orientation to psychedelic research; and methods to mitigate inequity. These ethical issues are magnified for AD/ADRD but bear broader relevance to psychedelic medicine and research in other clinical populations.
Research Summary of 'Journeying to Ixtlan: Ethics of Psychedelic Medicine and Research for Alzheimer’s Disease and Related Dementias'
Introduction
Peterson and colleagues frame their paper by placing contemporary enthusiasm for psychedelic medicine in historical and cultural context, using Carlos Castaneda's Journey to Ixtlan as a cautionary parable about charismatic claims that outpace evidence. They note a renewed scientific and commercial interest in psychedelic compounds alongside lingering regulatory and ethical uncertainties, and emphasise that these uncertainties are especially salient when considering Alzheimer's disease and related dementias (AD/ADRD), disorders that progressively erode memory, cognition, and aspects of personal identity and for which disease‑modifying treatments are lacking. The paper sets out to survey the existing landscape of psychedelic research relevant to AD/ADRD and to propose an ethics research agenda. Rather than presenting new empirical data, the authors offer a preliminary analysis organised around six ethical issues they regard as unresolved or magnified in the AD/ADRD context: the effects of psychedelics on autonomy and consent (including concerns about authenticity), ego dissolution in people with pathologies of the self, impacts on caregiving relationships, the risk of exploiting patient desperation, institutional review board (IRB) expertise and protectionism, and strategies to mitigate inequity in research and access.
Discussion
Across their thematic analysis the authors distinguish two prospective clinical applications of psychedelic compounds for people with AD/ADRD: treating the emotional and existential distress that commonly accompanies diagnosis and illness, and intervening on putative neurobiological mechanisms such as neuroinflammation and network dysfunction. They report that early clinical work is under way—for example, a pilot study enrolling people with mild cognitive impairment or early Alzheimer’s disease and clinically significant depression to receive psychological support plus two psilocybin sessions with follow‑up—and they note prior findings in other terminal or treatment‑resistant populations where psychedelic‑assisted therapy produced lasting reductions in anxiety and depression (one cited LSD study reported anxiety reduction in over 75% of participants and broader improvements in about two‑thirds). The authors highlight substantial uncertainties that bear on ethical and methodological choices. One central debate is whether the subjective, hallucinogenic experience is integral to therapeutic benefit or whether non‑hallucinogenic analogues could provide similar effects; this question affects risk profiles, access, cost, and potential for abuse. They argue that psychedelic effects likely depend on a therapeutic ensemble—the drug, psychotherapist, and setting—and that current trials underemphasise how therapist training, who the therapist is, and inclusion of caregivers might shape outcomes. Measurement challenges are also emphasised: standard depression, anxiety, and quality‑of‑life scales may miss transformative or existential changes, so the authors recommend development or adaptation of instruments (for example, measures probing death anxiety or existential concern) and use of qualitative approaches. Regarding safety and disease interaction, the paper discusses how ego dissolution and altered self‑processing produced by some psychedelics could interact with the self‑pathology of dementia. People with Lewy body disease or other dementias already experience hallucinations and reality distortions; psychedelic‑induced perceptual alterations could alleviate or, conversely, compound those phenomena and precipitate acute adverse reactions. For this reason, the authors recommend cautious, staged research that begins with less vulnerable groups (preclinical or mild cognitive impairment) and clinical supervision in trials; they also suggest pursuing biosimilar compounds that do not cause overt hallucinations if subjective phenomenology proves non‑essential. Caregiving dynamics receive extended treatment. The researchers observe that caregivers commonly serve as study partners in AD research, providing proxy information, monitoring safety, and sometimes acting as surrogate decision‑makers. Surrogate consent for psychedelic research raises difficult substituted‑judgement and best‑interests questions, because transformative experiences may alter a participant’s values and future choices. The authors propose considering the patient–caregiver dyad as a unit of interest, exploring psychedelic therapy for caregivers themselves (to address burnout), and developing guidance on how to balance benefits and harms that might accrue differently to patient and caregiver. The paper warns about exploitation driven by patient and family desperation. Examples of over‑hyped commercial claims are discussed, and the authors urge regulators, researchers, and advocacy organisations to counter misleading messaging. They frame the regulatory tension between rapid access and robust evidence in historical terms (for example, accelerated pathways used in other disease contexts) and recommend incorporating patient perspectives without compromising evidentiary standards. Institutional review boards are identified as pivotal actors whose generalist composition risks two errors: under‑appreciation of psychedelic science and attendant stigma leading to unnecessary rejection, or insufficiently calibrated protection that either overprotects or fails to mitigate real harms. The authors call for IRB education on psychedelic science and ethics so that protections are proportionate. Finally, equity concerns are foregrounded: the history of indigenous use has been marginalised in Western accounts, and participation of ethnoracially diverse groups in AD trials is extremely low (the authors note that diverse enrolment in AD/ADRD trials remains less than 5%, and cite an example in which 19 Black participants represented 0.6% of a large Phase III trial). To mitigate injustice they recommend inclusive recruitment practices, fair pricing or licensing to prevent inequitable patenting and access, and engagement with communities currently using psychedelics while avoiding cultural appropriation. Throughout, the authors acknowledge that empirical evidence about efficacy and mechanisms in AD/ADRD is limited and that their treatment is conceptual and agenda‑setting rather than definitive. They offer concrete mitigation strategies that mirror the six ethical foci: limit unsupervised administration, develop non‑hallucinogenic alternatives if feasible, incorporate caregivers into study design, call out predatory industry claims, enable patient voice in regulatory deliberations, and educate IRBs.
Conclusion
The authors conclude by reiterating the six ethical domains that require immediate attention if psychedelic medicine is to be responsibly researched and deployed for people with AD/ADRD: autonomy and consent (including authenticity concerns), interactions between ego dissolution and pathologies of the self, caregiving dynamics, exploitation of desperation, IRB expertise and protectionism, and remedies for inequity. They stress that these issues are amplified in the context of dementia but have broader relevance to psychedelic research. While acknowledging that psychedelics are unlikely to be curative, the paper urges that researchers and clinicians be guided by both rigorous science and an explicit moral compass as the field progresses.
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INTRODUCTION
In his 1972 book Journey to Ixtlan, anthropologist Carlos Castaneda documented his quest to understand psychedelics through an apprenticeship with a Yaqui shaman, Don Juan. "Ixtlan"-a word originating from the Aztecan Nahuatl language-means "in the presence of"and is explained as a metaphorical place or way of being. According to Castaneda, Don Juan's wisdom helped him understand that the journey to Ixtlan is a holistic transformation. The journey commences with the aid of psychedelics; the destination, however, is reached through a radical repositioning of one's self in relation to all living things. Shortly after publication of Ixtlan, Castaneda was revealed as a likely fraud. A 1973 Time Magazine exposé questioned the veracity of Castaneda's work, drawing into doubt the existence of Don Juan. Subsequent scholarship found that Castaneda's books abound with factual inconsistencies, misattribute to Don Juan quotes originating from Wittgenstein and C.S. Lewis, and likely precipitated a wave of psychedelic pilgrimages that damaged indigenous Yaqui and Huichol communities. Richard de Mille, one of Castaneda's fiercest critics, concluded that his fantastical adventures "originated not in the Sonoran desert but in the library at UCLA," where Castaneda was pursuing his degree. Castaneda exploited the psychedelic enthusiasm of the 1960s by beckoning his acolytes to find their "true selves" in the Sonoran desert. Similar opportunism looms ominously above today's psychedelic "gold rush". In December 2021, the Israeli biotech company Ixtlan Biosciences announced the filing of a provisional patent in the United States for its "Ixtlan AD _ Kit," a _ psychedelic-based treatment intended for use by patients with Alzheimer's disease (AD). The benefits of psychedelic medicine for persons living with AD remain unproven, the kit is not yet on the market, and it lacks FDA approval. Nonetheless, Ixtlan's Chief Financial Officer and head scientist has enthusiastically touted the kit's benefits not only for patients with AD but also for those with "dementia syndromes, stroke, multiple sclerosis, and traumatic brain injury". The Ixtlan AD Kit, like other recent developments in psychedelic science (Carhart-Harris and Goodwin 2017; Tullis 2021), is popularly enthralling and ethically disquieting. The history and cultural significance of psychedelics-combined with their ability to induce life-altering experiences-lends them an "uncanny allure". As a result, in the mid-20th century, enthusiasm for psychedelics' therapeutic potential exceeded scientific evidence. Now, in the early 21st century, this enthusiasm is renewed. It has been suggested that psychedelics promise deeper insight into the mysteries of human consciousness-that they have paradigm-shifting capacities that rival those facilitated by the discovery of the microscope or telescope. But such promises come with complex ethical and methodological questions. These issues are magnified when psychedelics are viewed through the lens of Alzheimer's disease and related dementias (AD/ADRD), a group of neurodegenerative diseases that impair memory, thinking, and functioning and progressively erode patients' sense of self and agency. There are presently no treatments to slow or stop the progression of these diseases. Novel interventions like psychedelics are, therefore, of great interest to desperate patients and to researchers and clinicians-as means to intervene on the underlying disease mechanisms and to treat the psychiatric symptoms associated with AD/ADRD. How § should patients, caregivers, researchers, and clinicians pursue these lines of inquiry without falling prey to fictions reminiscent of Castaneda? In this article, we survey the current landscape of psychedelic research for AD/ADRD and propose an ethics research agenda to complement ongoing science. This research agenda identifies six unresolved issues-some familiar to psychedelic medicine and research ethics, some novel.
PSYCHEDELIC MEDICINE FOR ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE AND RELATED DEMENTIAS?
Psychedelics-including LSD, psilocybin, DMT, and mescaline-are "mind-altering" substances that modify human consciousness. In the United States, clinicians cannot yet legally offer most psychedelics to patients, although they can offer ancillary integration services for patients who source and use psychedelics on their own. Psychedelics are classified by the federal government as "Schedule I" controlled substances, indicating that there are no currently accepted medical uses and high potential for abuse. Nonetheless, research on the therapeutic benefits of psychedelics-for depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, and more-may soon inform changes in both scheduling and clinical practice. In what follows, we provide background on AD/ ADRD and explore two possible applications for psychedelics: treating the diseases' underlying neurological causes and treating associated psychiatric symptoms. Understanding the promise of psychedelic medicine for AD/ADRD will require further research. Until recently, nearly all trials-as with psychedelic research more broadly-were privately funded; NIH has only recently started to fund research on psychedelic medicine.
BACKGROUND ON ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE AND RELATED DEMENTIAS
When James Watson, one of the discoverers of modern genetics, published his own genome sequence online, he famously kept secret the region encoding his Apolipoprotein E (APOE) gene, a gene well-associated with late-onset AD. Years later, psychologist Steven Pinker detailed the experience of learning his own genome sequence; notably, he chose not to learn his APOE genotype. Pinker explained, "[AJ]ll of us already live with the knowledge that we have the fatal genetic condition called mortality, but my current burden of existential dread is just about right"). One's APOE genotype is not a diagnosis of AD. As a susceptibility gene, it speaks imperfectly to one's risk of developing mild cognitive impairment (MCI) or dementia caused by AD in later life. Yet, this gene stirred existential dread inAD eventually leads to death, which is itself a source of dread. Yet afflicted patients and families also often dread a "death before death," wherein the mind is lost but the body persists. Cultural representations reinforce this. "Death in Slow Motion" is the title of Eleanor Cooney's memoir of her experiences caring for her mother with dementia. Persons living with AD/ADRD experience progressive impairments in communication, reasoning, and memory. They also experience a gradual but relentless erosion of the self. Pathological changes in the brain manifest in one's subjective experience of the world. Initially, these changes may be subtle, perceptible only to the patient or to the patient's family and friends. For Daniel Gibbs, a neurologist who has written about his experience of living with MCI caused by AD-an early stage of the loss of cognitive abilities-the disease insinuated itself in the most quotidian of ways: Two incidents of absent-mindedness in a single day disturbed me. Both were glitches in ordinary kitchen routines ''d done a million times. I always make the salad for dinner. That night I peeled the cucumber into the salad bowl instead of into the compost container next to the salad bowl. I didn't notice it at all until [my spouse] asked quizzically why there was cucumber peel in the salad. Then, unloading the dishwasher, I put a coffee mug on the shelf with my beer mugs. Not a big deal, but I have never done that before, and again I didn't recognize that I had done it until [my spouse] pointed it out.As these "glitches" worsen, lived experience vacillates between lucidity and confusion. Persons living with AD/ADRD "hyper-monitor" their thoughts to assure they are in order, until this remembering is also forgotten. Many also have emotional and behavioral problems, such as apathy, depression, and agitation. Their caregiversoften close family who support activities of daily living-also experience existential suffering and trauma.
SPOUSES AND ADULT CHILDREN OF PERSONS LIVING WITH AD/
ADRD serve as the backbone of our nation's longterm care system. While caregiving may be a source of satisfaction or lend a sense of purpose, it also exacts a significant physical, emotional, and financial toll. Historically, people only learned that they had AD/ ADRD once they were experiencing characteristic signs and symptoms. This conceptual model meant a person had to first be diagnosed with dementia before being labeled with the disease causing that dementia, such as Alzheimer's or Lewy Body Disease. Scientific advances over the past 20 years have moved us away from this clinical model toward a biological one. Accumulating evidence supports the notion that pathological changes of AD-which can be measured using biomarkers such as amyloid-beta plaques and tau tangles-begin years to decades before the onset of clinical symptoms. The earliest, or "preclinical," stage of AD is characterized by the presence of disease pathology in the absence of clinically measurable cognitive problems. Although preclinical AD remains a research construct, clinical diagnosis and treatment will likely soon extend to the preclinical stage, as intervening earlier in the disease course is more likely to succeed in slowing-or even preventing-cognitive impairment. The benign qualifier, "preclinical," belies a complex patient experience. Cognitively unimpaired individuals who receive biomarker information suggestive of increased risk for developing MCI or dementia worry about future disability, how best to live, and how to cope with stigmaAJOB NEUROSCIENCE () 3 2019). Some interpret mental "slips" and "lapses" as "signs" that cognitive impairment is beginning, even as their cognition measures clinically as unimpaired. Family members also have their own preclinical experience-called "pre-caregiving'-when they learn a loved one is at risk for developing MCI or dementia. Families monitor their loved one for incipient changes in wellbeing and anticipate, sometimes with anxiety, their future caregiving roles. Across all stages of disease-unimpaired, MCI, or dementia-persons living with AD/ADRD neuropathology might eventually be able to benefit from psychedelic medicine. Researchers envision at least two potential uses: to treat the emotional impact of the diagnosis and to intervene on the disease mechanismJones and O'Kelly 2020). Evidence supporting these indications remains limited, and methodological challenges persist. Nonetheless, these lines of research foreshadow a possible future for psychedelic medicine in AD/ADRD, a future we should begin preparing for now.
TREATING THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF AN AD/ ADRD DIAGNOSIS
Research is currently underway to discover whether psychedelics can relieve the emotional impact of receiving an AD/ADRD diagnosis, a diagnosis highly comorbid with depression. Researchers at the Johns Hopkins Psychedelic Research Unit are enrolling participants in "a pilot study evaluating the potential efficacy of psilocybin to produce improvement in depression compared to pre-treatment" (ClinicalTrials.gov ID: NCT04123314). Participants include persons who have both (1) MCI or early AD and (2) clinically significant symptoms of depression. Over eight weeks, participants will receive psychological support and complete two psilocybin-aided sesafter which they will be followed for six months. There is reason for cautious optimism about the outcomes of such studies. When coupled with psychotherapy, psychedelics have been shown in some trials to benefit persons experiencing negative emotions associated with a terminal or untreatable condition. A 2015 study by Gasser, Kirchner, and Passie found that, in a group diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, LSD-assisted psychotherapy reduced anxiety in over 75% of participants, with two-thirds reporting sions, overall improvement in quality of life. Similar benefits have been observed in trials of psilocybin in persons with anxiety and depression associated with cancer, and in persons with treatment-resistant depression. Positive emotional effects of psychedelics can last for months to a year (reviewed in. These studies present scientific challenges that could impact the kinds of treatments persons living with AD/ADRD and their caregivers might receive. One question is about the role of the hallucinogenic experience in providing relief for AD/ADRD: Is the hallucinogenic experience essential to the therapeutic effect of psychedelics or is it epiphenomenal? Some investigators hypothesize that manufactured psychedelic-like compounds, which do not induce a subjective hallucinogenic experience, might confer an equivalent therapeutic benefit. Esketamine (Spravato), for instance, is a stereoisomer of ketamine approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to treat acute suicidal behavior and major depression without the "high." Other investigators disagree and argue that the subjective hallucinogenic experience is integral to therapeutic impact. Some evidence from subperceptual dosing-so called "microdosing"-studies of psychedelics suggest that removing the hallucinogenic experience diminishes therapeutic impact. A recent randomized controlled trial in persons with symptoms of anxiety and depression found that subperceptual doses of psilocybin were no better than placebo at improving quality of life and anxiety. Resolving this debate is important because eliminating the subjective hallucinogenic experience could be beneficial for research and care. For example, eliminating the hallucinogenic experience could mitigate potential adverse psychological events, broaden access to psychedelic medicine for populations who might fear the possibility of hallucinations or otherwise be excluded for severe mental illness, and reduce costs and logistical burdens associated with clinical supervision. Circumventing the hallucinogenic experience also might reduce vulnerability to sexual and financial abuse; unfortunately, allegations of such abuse have emerged from ongoing trials. A second challenge is that researchers have largely focused on understanding the therapeutic effects of psychedelics' chemical properties while paying relatively less attention to the role of the psychotherapists and the therapeutic milieu in mediating (or moderating) those effects. The psychedelic substance, psychotherapist, and setting likely form a therapeutic ensemble, the combination of which can impact the presence and extent of any therapeutic benefit. This raises a host of questions about how to define the boundaries of a psychedelic treatment and ways to scientifically manipulate it. For instance, is psychedelic-aided psychotherapy enhanced when the psychotherapist has already experienced a_ hallucinogenic state? Should specialized training be required for psychotherapists using psychedelic medicines in therapy? If so, what should the curriculum include and who should teach it)? Additional questions arise when we seek to define and understand the therapeutic ensemble for persons living with AD/ADRD. The therapeutic ensemble for this population might, for instance, also extend to caregivers. Third, how ought we measure the impact of psychedelic medicine for persons living with AD/ADRD? The outcome measures in current trials-validated depression, anxiety, and quality-of-life (QoL) scalesprovide important insights into putative benefits of psychedelic medicine. Yet they might also be too impoverished to account for the depth of self-transformation that often accompanies psychedelic experiences. More sophisticated measures might be needed to capture this impact. One example is the Existential Concern Questionnaire (ECQ), which probes complex emotions such as feelings of "death anxiety" and the "finitude of life'). Adaptations of this measure could be helpful for persons living with AD/ADRD and other clinical populations, such as persons coping with a terminal cancer diagnosis. Some researchers also propose qualitative. Alterations in the salience network are linked to neuropsychiatric symptoms. Researchers hypothesize that psychedelic-induced neuroplasticity could mitigate network abnormalities in these and other neurodegenerative diseases (Vann Jones and O'Kelly 2020). Psychedelics might also protect neural cells. Genetic and environmental risk factors for some neurodegenerative diseases are associated with increased neuroinflammation. Oxidative stress biomarkers are elevated in many neurodegenerative diseases, and breakdown of the blood-brain barrier is associated with region-specific damage and neurodegeneration generally. Psychedelics have been shown to reduce inflammation in vascular tissue) and might also counteract inflammation in the brain. A recent Phase I trial of LSD in healthy participants aged 55-75 years established psychedelic dosing protocols for older adults, paving the way for future trials of their anti-inflammatory properties for AD/ ADRD and other age-related neurodegenerative changes. A critical methodological question for using psychedelics to intervene on AD/ADRD pathology is whether neuroinflammation-or some similar neurobiological change affected by psychedelics-is the primary mechanism of disease. Currently, an influential theory within AD research is that amyloid-plaque accumulation is causally linked to symptoms. This theory supports the hypothesis that amyloid-plaque clearance will translate to clinically meaningful benefits-namely, preservation of cognition and function. Yet, this hypothesis remains highly controversial. The primary disease mechanisms for multiple other causes of dementia remain unknown. Although this gap in knowledge could hamper psy- impaired from alterations in a person's recognition of their functional and cognitive impairments. In addition to decision-making capacity, some theorists argue that autonomy also involves authenticity. Dworkin, for example, defines authenticity as a person having a reasonably consistent set of values that coheres with the continuity of his or her identity. Individuals make authentic decisions when they are guided by motives and reasons expressive of their identity, or their "critical interests." An observant Catholic would be presumed to make decisions consistent with tenets of the Catholic faith. Such decisions-and the guiding values of Catholicism-define, in part, that person's authentic self. A person who subscribes to an alternative set of values might make decisions differently. Both people have decision-making capacity and are autonomous, but how they make decisions differs with respect to their identity. One implication of this view is that disease or injury might cause a person's authentic self and decision-making capacity to pull apart. This can complicate assessments of whether an individual Mitigate potential harms through limiting unsupervised administration of psychedelics or developing nonhallucinogenic substances as an alternative. Develop frameworks for incorporating caregivers into the therapeutic ensemble for psychedelic medicine. Consider potential harms and benefits to caregiver when assessing harms and benefits to the patient. Encourage psychedelic researchers to "call out" predatory drug companies and investigators to protect the integrity of the science. Develop new mechanisms for incorporating patient voices in regulatory decisions without lowering regulatory standards. Study IRB perspectives on psychedelic research to understand where support is needed. Educate IRBs on psychedelic science and related ethical issues so they have the appropriate knowledge-base to support psychedelic researchers and protect participants. Establish inclusive recruitment standards for psychedelic research in AD/ADRD populations. Include fair pricing or licensing procedures for psychedelics so equity is "baked in" to the drug development pipeline. If studies show benefits to patients and caregivers, destigmatize psychedelic use through education initiatives and decriminalization. is acting autonomously. A person with a mental health condition might, for example, retain the four decisional abilities of capacity, but might also make decisions that are motivated by pathological values. Individuals with anorexia nervosa are reported to have sophisticated insight and understanding of their condition, yet continue to engage in pathological eating behaviors resulting from distortions in body selfimage. Dementia is even more complicated. Different phenotypes of dementia, such as behavioral-variant frontotemporal dementia, can cause significant changes in personality, leading to impulsive and risky behavior. Families and clinicians might reasonably wonder whether a person's decisions reflect the authentic self or if they represent "the disease speaking." Indeed, clinicians and caregivers often draw comparisons between the "then self'? and "now self" of persons living with AD/ADRD. The then self is who the person was prior to the onset of cognitive problems, while the now self is who the person becomes through their disease. There is a rich philosophical debate on the nature of authenticity in dementia, which draws into question how identity relates to a person's autonomy; Jaworska 1999), Dworkin's "critical interests," for example, are just one kind of interest a person may have. Without accounting for other interests that bear on identity, one might be regarded as having an authentic self despite significant personality changes as long as critical interests remain stable. Likewise, a robust theory of authenticity and autonomy might be better grounded on a person's psychological continuity, rather than consistency in values (see, for example,,, and Buccafurnifor analyses of identity, memory, and advance directives). Indeed, such an approach would question the assumption that dementia-or any other life event that alters one's values-would imply an inauthentic self. This line of thought emphasizes that the self remains stable even when a person adopts new values. People are entitled to change their minds and regarding them as inauthentic simply because of this change would be an affront to their autonomy. Yet it is also important to know how and why a person's values have changed, and whether those reasons reflect understanding and appreciation or, alternatively, inconsistency and incapacity. Whatever theory of identity and autonomy one adopts, considerations of authenticity are likely relevant to decisions to undergo psychedelic therapy, as well as decisions made following psychedelic administration. Dementia and psychedelics share a common characteristic: they both induce "transformative experiences" that can lead to a reshaping of one's worldview). In the psychedelic context, these might be described as an unmasking of authenticity. From another vantage point, they might be interpreted as masking the prior, authentic self. Like some other treatments in psychiatry, it is far from clear whether such an abrupt change is beneficial and whose perspective about these changes matters most: the person experiencing the transformation or those who witness and interpret the transformation as they care for that person. Transformations in authenticity might also cause Transformative experiences are often ineffable, hard to predict, and difficult to classify as either harmful or beneficial. This can challenge clinicians and researchers in describing the possible impact of psychedelic administration and reacting to possible transformations. People who have transformative experiences do not necessarily lack decision-making capacity, nor should we assume that their autonomy is diminished. A transformative experience could enhance capacity and autonomy. Yet, whether capacity is diminished or enhanced, it might be difficult from the perspective of clinicians and family to interpret how a transformative experience has changed a person's values and subsequent decisions. Philosopher L.A. Paul compares these experiences to the trope of becoming a vampire: for someone about to be bitten, it is impossible to grasp what it will be like-and AJOB NEUROSCIENCE () 7 whether it's good or bad-until after the bite). The situation is magnified for persons living with AD/ADRD. Their transformative experience might be compounded by both the disease and psychedelics. Conveying what such transformations will be like is difficult, even for the most adept professionals. It might also be, in principle, impossible to objectively convey the nature of these experiences, since they are characterized entirely by their subjective phenomenology. Consent procedures for psychedelic research and therapy should be modified to account for these transformations. New consent practices might include sharing testimonials from practitioners or participants who have had both positive and negative experiences. This is similar to recommendations for genetic counselors to have knowledge of the lives of persons with disabilities before supporting prospective parents in interpreting prenatal genetic test results suggestive of disability. In both cases, familiarity with the qualitative dimensions of decision outcomes can enhance the consent process; the testimony gives consenting participants as sense of "what it is like" to have made the decision. The threshold of capacity to consent to psychedelic therapy or research might also be set higher than for other medical decisions, as the stakes of a possible transformative experience could be comparatively higher. The impact of a transformative experience is not intrinsically bad, but its influence on the person's decisions and values is likely irreversible, and so requires a heightened level of scrutiny. Additionally, transformations in authenticity associated with psychedelics might affect major non-medical decisions for people with AD/ADRD. Take, for instance, the decision to modify a legal will after undergoing psychedelic therapy. The standards of testamentary capacity allow for persons living with AD/ ADRD to make such decisions provided they are "lucid" and understand the implications of the modifications; for instance, changing the allocation of an estate among adult children (American Bar Association, Commission on Law and Aging & American Psychological Association 2021). Yet, it is plausible that such modifications could be contested by family, especially if it is believed those changes have been problematically influenced by psychedelics, AD/ADRD, or both. Should provisions be made in advance to guide the acceptance of these future decisions, such as "freezing" a will or similar legal documents before administration of psychedelics? Such approaches might be too restrictive, given that they might imply a rejection of the authenticity of a person's choices following all transformative experiences, not just those related to psychedelics. After all, most people experience changes in authenticity across a lifespan, for example as their goals and values change with the addition of life partners, children, age, and exposure to the world. It would thus be counterintuitive to claim that autonomy should be limited by these changes; if anything, such life milestones often make us wiser. Nevertheless, abrupt and significant changes in a person's preferences and choices raise important questions about how family and professionals should interpret them. Provided that a person living with AD/ ADRD has decision-making capacity, she should be able to make decisions autonomously, irrespective of transformative experiences. But family and professionals are equally justified in scrutinizing the rationale for these decisions in light of the influence of disease and psychedelic administration. At least two reasons support this. First, persons living with AD/ADRD, especially persons with dementia, rely on other people, their caregivers, to assist them with their daily life. An abrupt change in choices that disrupts the caregiver's wellbeing is ethically problematic and ought not to be accepted without considering the impact on caregiver interests. Second, persons living with AD/ADRD are vulnerable to exploitation and abuse. The alleged financial abuse of an older adult by an executive at the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) is an example of how psychedelics can be used to manipulate others. Persons living with AD/ADRD are already vulnerable to financial abuse due to diminished insight and social cognition. Unregulated use of psychedelics could increase exposure to such exploitation. Ego Dissolution and Pathologies of the Self Pathological changes in brain function caused by AD/ ADRD alter self-perception and self-processing. From the inside, the story of one's life becomes fractured, even anachronistic. This is why AD is often described as an "unbecoming" of the self. Some psychedelics, such as psilocybin, also affect selfperception and self-processing, leading to "ego dissolution." People report a sense of enmeshment with the environment or "oceanic boundlessness" (cf Letheby and Gerrans 2017;. These experiences might be essential to the therapeutic-even spiritual-value of psychedelics. Indeed, the psychiatry literature is replete with data demonstrating the potential benefit of ego dissolution for processing trauma. However, the pathology of the self that is emblematic of AD/ADRD could also alter-and even problematically exacerbate-this hallucinogenic experience. For example, AD/ADRD diseases, especially Lewy Body disease (DLB), cause distortions of reality. People living with these diseases might converse with long-deceased relatives, believe a spouse is occupied by another person, or have vivid hallucinations. Daniel Drubach, an expert in DLB who was recently diagnosed with the condition, describes the unsettling experience of being followed by "a presence" and unexpectedly seeing strange images: a pirouetting ballerina; small furry animals scurrying about; and a baby crawling under his bed beckoning him to play. Psychedelics might alleviate these symptoms, but it is also possible that a hallucinogenic experience could compound the perceptual distortions caused by the disease. The negative effects of ego dissolution from AD/ ADRD might also trigger adverse psychological experiences, or "bad trips." High doses of psychedelics can lead to anxiety, dysphoria, confusion, and acute delusions. Such reactions are rare and can be managed in supervised settings. However, with high-dose administration, or in administration to persons with underlying mental health conditions, adverse reactions can devolve into psychotic episodes or decompensation. This is why persons with a history of serious mental illness are often excluded from psychedelic trials. The potential for ego dissolution to exacerbate clinical symptoms of AD/ADRD does not mean that persons with these diseases should be excluded from psychedelic medicine and research. Our analysis is not intended to fear monger, nor to falsely imply that all psychedelic compounds potentiate negative subjective experiences. Persons with AD/ADRD could benefit substantially from compounds that assist them in reorienting their attitudes toward dementia. The unique features of AD/ADRD pathology might also present new insights for future psychedelic treatments more broadly. Nevertheless, these benefits need to be assessed and balanced against potential harms. One way to achieve this balance is to optimize measures of clinical benefit, as outlined above. The development of psychometric instruments that approximate the existential dread of living with AD/ ADRD will be of particular value in assessing benefit. A second approach is to mitigate risk by developing biosimilar molecules that do not cause the subjective hallucinogenic experience, provided that the subjective phenomenology is not integral to any therapeutic effect. Clinically-supervised administration of psychedelics would also be ideal, where a trained therapist can support a person living with AD/ADRD if having an adverse psychological reaction. This approach, however, runs contrary to the current trend of state and local governments legalizing and decriminalizing psychedelics for personal use outside a clinical setting. Clinicians and caregivers of those living with AD/ADRD are in a good position to encourage greater caution. A third way to achieve an appropriate risk-benefit balance is to use a long-standing heuristic in research ethics: begin research with the least vulnerable populations to build confidence about safety and tolerability before moving into more vulnerable groups (cf. CIOMS 2016, Guideline 15). For AD/ADRD research, this means starting studies on persons with either no cognitive impairment (i-e., preclinical disease) or MCI.
CAREGIVING DYNAMICS
Caregivers are likely to play a critical role in psychedelic research participation. Many AD/ADRD research protocols require a "study partner," who is often the caregiver, to accompany persons with AD/ADRD through a clinical trial. Study partners act as knowledgeable informants (i.e., providing information about cognition and functioning), assure compliance with research interventions (e.g., taking investigational drugs as directed, providing transportation to study visits), monitor for side-effects and adverse events, and might also provide data about their own experiences. There may be a scientific and ethical imperative to include caregivers as study partners in psychedelic research, given possible risks and need for information on eligibility and outcomes. In some instances, the study partner might be asked to provide surrogate consent on behalf of the person with AD/ADRD. Surrogate consent may be appropriate in the treatment context, when or if evidence suggests that psychedelic administration directly benefits persons living with AD/ADRD. But surrogate consent for psychedelic research is more complicated. Given the potential for benefit and the importance of the knowledge to be gained through this research, we suggest that surrogate consent should be permissible, but we must recognize the challenges. On a substituted-judgment standard, surrogates might be unsure if their loved one would prefer to enroll in psychedelics research. Although patients often grant leeway to their surrogates, surrogate decision makers do not perfectly approximate the wishes of persons living with AD/ADRD. On a best-interests standard, it might be unclear whether a transformative experience would lead to clinical benefit. Moreover, complications could arise if a surrogate stigmatizes psychedelic use and sees no benefit to research participation; a surrogate might withdraw a patient from a psychedelics trial if she becomes incapacitated during the study, or might not honor the patient's previously expressed interest in enrolling in such research. Enhanced consent procedures for individual patients-described above-might be adapted to the surrogate setting to address these challenges, but further work on this issue is needed. In addition to supporting psychedelic research, caregivers might also be included as subjects of psychedelic therapy and research. For example, psychedelic therapy might enhance the patient-caregiver relationship. Assisted therapy with MDMA-an empathogenic quasi-psychedelic-shows promise in alleviating interpersonal trauma) and social anxiety). This might be particularly useful for persons with AD/ADRD, as the preservation of self emerges from a support network and relationships with caregivers. A key insight for the future study of psychedelics for persons with AD/ADRD might be to take a family systems approach, considering individual patients and their caregiving network as a single unit, where application may vary with the type of caregiving relationship (eg., spousal adult child caregiver). Caregivers might also be independent candidates for psychedelic-aided psychotherapy precisely because they are caregivers. It is well known that caregiving exacts a high emotional toll. Caregivers can experience role overload, fatigue, and often regard themselves as "invisible second patients". This can negatively affect caregiver wellbeing and that of the care recipient. Several studies demonstrate strong associations between caregiver burnout and medication mismanagement, probability of falls, increased medical expenditures, and negative changes in health care utilization. versus Exploring how psychedelic-aided psychotherapy might alleviate caregiver burnout could be a promising next chapter in psychedelic research and indirectly benefit persons living with AD/ADRD, or other similar conditions. Although these, and perhaps other, applications of psychedelics could improve caregiving dynamics, they also raise complex ethical issues. Like the use of psychedelics in persons living with AD/ADRD-or any other clinical population-there are risks of adverse psychological reactions. The primary caregiver of a person with moderate to severe dementia, for instance, might elect for psychedelic-aided psychotherapy to help in processing negative emotions associated with caregiving labor. But these psychotherapy sessions might inadvertently exacerbate symptoms, affecting the caregiver and in turn impairing the quality of care for the patient. This raises questions about how to balance the risks and benefits of psychedelic medicine when patients and caregivers form a "dyad." Treatments that benefit one party to the dyad might be harmful to another. There might also be circumstances in which caregivers are affected by psychedelic administration, even if they don't directly ingest the substances. Caregivers form part of the therapeutic ensemble for persons living with AD/ADRD, and so will be impacted by the ripple effects of psychedelic administration, good and bad. How, if at all, should risks and benefits to caregivers be traded with risks and benefits to AD/ADRD patients? Resolving this question might require a more granular conceptual framework for specifying whoor what-accrues benefit in the AD/ADRD context: the patient, the caregiver, the dyad, or some combination of their interests. Moreover, clinicians and researchers will need guidance in how to balance conflict. Caregivers have obligations to persons living with dementia, often extending out of love and a sense of duty. But these obligations do not extend to violations of caregivers' autonomy or welfare; caregivers shouldn't be forced to engage in psychedelic medicine or research themselves on the grounds that it will benefit the patient. Future conceptual work is needed to specify these tradeoffs. Desperation AD/ADRD are considered diseases of desperation. Patients and caregivers want reasons to be hopeful. Desperation and hope are, however, fertile ground for exploitation. Alternative medicine is replete with grandiose statements, such as these "supplements are used to cure Alzheimer's disease" or "you can even reverse mental decline associated with dementia or even Alzheimer's in just a week" (FDA 2021). These claims are alluring in the absence of alternatives; recognizing this, the FDA compiles a list of unproven claims that predatory companies make about AD/ADRD interventions for enforcement action. Inadvertent or willful misrepresentation of the benefits of psychedelic medicine-to persons living with AD/ADRD specifically and to patients generally-can have a similar effect. Patients and families desperate for relief might be lured into the mistaken belief that psychedelics are a panacea. As noted in the introduction, Ixtlan Biosciences described its product as a "treatment" for "dementia syndromes, stroke, multiple sclerosis, and traumatic brain injury," despite no evidence proving this to be true. Such messaging exploits hope and desperation for profit. Several approaches might be used to protect patients and caregivers from this kind of predation. First, FDA might need to compile unproven claims for psychedelics. Psychedelic advocacy organizations could also participate in this effort by publishing best practices for making and interpreting marketing claims. Psychedelic advocacy organizations have an opportunity to become "trusted entities" in this space by maintaining high, evidence-based standards for communicating the benefits of psychedelics while eschewing unwarranted "hype." Researchers can also play a role by not overstating the benefits of psychedelics in the absence of sufficient data. Psychedelic researchers can promote the integrity of the research enterprise by correcting misleading media narratives and by publicly calling out predatory companies. Desperation for psychedelics might also impact future drug regulation. Persons with diseases of desperation have, historically, advocated effectively for development of life-saving treatments. In the 1980s and '90s, AIDS activists pushed for the development of regulatory pathways to speed promising medicines to patients with life-limiting conditions). These pathways are, however, not without controversy. In 2021, FDA came under fire for using the accelerated approval pathway for the Alzheimer's drug aducanumab (Aduhelm; Biogen). By nearly all accounts, aducanumab fails to confer clinical benefit to patients and carries significant risks of brain swelling and bleeding. FDA officials have defended aducanumab's approval, saying that many patients with AD and their families "made it clear that they are willing to accept the tradeoff of some uncertainty about clinical benefit in exchange for earlier access to a potentially effective drug". A key issue, then, in shepherding future psychedelic medicine through regulatory pathways is acknowledging patient desperation-even incorporating it within regulatory decisions-without inappropriately lowering regulatory standards.
IRB EXPERTISE AND PROTECTIONISM
Independent review by an institutional review board (IRB) is a requirement for ethical research. IRBs have considerable authority: the power to approve, reject, or require modifications to proposed human subjects research, as well as to provide continuous oversight as research is carried out. Their decisions have substantial implications for researchers and the broader public. IRBs are often generalist bodies, with a remit to oversee a wide variety of research protocols). When dealing with vulnerable populations, IRBs must determine whether special protections are necessary to support participants' rights and welfare, and if so, what those special protections should be. But this requires adequate expertise in the special issues facing those populations, as well as in the relevant science. Without that expertise, IRBs' duty to protect can evolve into a protectionist bias, wherein vulnerable populations are overprotected and the progress of research is inappropriately inhibited out of an abundance of caution. Little is known about IRB understanding of the science and ethics of psychedelic research. Negative stereotypes about psychedelics-perhaps fueled by attitudes about the counter-culture or false assumptions about addictive qualities-could lead to stigma about their use in research. Novel science and associated "hype" could have the opposite effect. The fact that many research groups have found institutional support to conduct psychedelic research is encouraging. A to provide opportunities for contribution to and, in some cases, benefit from research. In the context of psychedelics and AD/ADRD, research is needed to address many of the very same uncertainties that make the research so ethically complex. The challenge facing IRBs reviewing psychedelic research is thus to understand ethical issues with enough nuance to ensure "right-sized" protections, while not creating unnecessary barriers to scientific progress. Equity highlights questions about who stands to lose or gain from psychedelic medicine, who stands to profit or be exploited, and which cultural histories will be preserved or forgotten. Considerations of justice ought to inform our approach to these questions. This principle demands that the potential benefits of psychedelic medicines-both therapeutic and financial-be_ distributed fairly across populations. Unfortunately, unfairness is already present, as the field appears to favor some communities at the expense of others. The history of psychedelic medicine as told in Western medical literature is often distorted and exclusionary. Researchers frame psychedelic medicine as starting in the United States in the 1960s. Yet, indigenous communities in the Americas have maintained their own systems of holistic psychedelic medicine for centuries). This erasure is harmful in that it can obfuscate and colonize indigenous practices with Western medical frameworks. Moreover, indigenous and other historically marginalized communities are poorly represented in current psychedelic research, despite being at potentially greater risk for conditions that psychedelics could relieve. Medical care for persons with AD/ADRD is equally rife with inequity. Unjust and racist social determinants of health add to the burden of disease among historically marginalized populations, especially Black and Latino communities. Access to care is often limited, leading to delayed and inaccurate diagnoses, which negatively affects referral to specialists and receipt of appropriate therapy. AD/ADRD research is no better. Recent estimates suggest that enrollment of diverse ethnoracial participants in AD/ADRD trials remains less than 5%. In Biogen's Phase III aducanumab trials, only 19 participants (0.6% of all participants) identified as Black, and less than half of them were randomized to the study's treatment arm, despite Black adults having an AD incidence rate of nearly twice that of whites (Manly and Glymour 2021). Persons from historically marginalized communities who are living with AD/ADRD might benefit from the psychedelic renaissance. But the practice of psychedelic medicine and research run the risk of perpet-and Oregon, are promising first steps to turn the tide of stigma. Input from non-clinical communities that are currently using psychedelics might also help shape similar policies and practices in the future. Nonetheless, these efforts must be balanced with how psychedelics will be classified and sufficient regulatory oversight. The recently approved ballot measure in Oregon, for example, attempts to circumvent drug classification with de-medicalizing language, allowing for administration from "licensed facilitators" at "service centers". Although this may facilitate access, it could also inhibit the ability of FDA and other regulatory bodies to guide rational, evidence-based drug development. Notably, the Biden Administration anticipates that FDA will approve the first psychedelics in the next several years (for treatment of PTSD and depression) and has called for an interagency task force and public-private partnership to produce guidelines to promote safe, equitable deployment of these interventions in the clinical setting. This sort of proactive attention to the clinical, regulatory, and public policy issues raised by psychedelic medicine should be encouraged.
CONCLUSION
In this paper, we have outlined six ethical issues related to future clinical and research applications of psychedelics for AD/ADRD: the impact of psychedelics on autonomy, authenticity, and consent; the impact of "ego dissolution" on persons experiencing a pathology of self; how psychedelics might impact caregiving dynamics; the potential exploitation of patient desperation; IRBs' orientation to psychedelic research; and methods to mitigate inequity. These issues are not unique to AD/ADRD but are certainly magnified in that context. Like those who embark for Ixtlan, persons living with AD/ADRD and their caregivers are on a journey that reorients ways of being. Theirs is a difficult journey that forces confrontation with identity, self, personhood, ambiguous loss, and death. Psychedelics are mind-altering substances, but so too are amyloid tau tangles. While likely not curative for AD/ADRD, the hope is that psychedelics can ease the journey to this new way of life. Researchers and clinicians pioneering this terrain must be guided by a moral compass as well as by the science. ported by the National Institute on Aging (K01-AG064123) and a Greenwall Faculty Scholar Award. HFL is supported by a Greenwall Faculty Scholar Award. The content of this article does not necessarily represent the official views of the NIH or private foundations. The funders played no role in the preparation, review, approval, or decision to submit this manuscript for publication.
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