Words shape our understanding. And when it comes to psychedelics, the words we use can mean the difference between stigma and respect, confusion and clarity, fear and possibility. In Psychedelics A to Z, Dr. Olga Chernoloz explores this idea in “H is for Hallucinogen,” unpacking the many terms used to describe these substances—and why they matter.
Let’s start with “hallucinogen.” This term is common in medicine and law, used to describe substances that induce hallucinations. But it’s also misleading. Not all psychedelic experiences include hallucinations. More importantly, the word suggests that what people see or feel under the influence is false or delusional. As Dr. Chernoloz points out, this diminishes the significance many users place on their experience—experiences often described as profoundly real, even life-changing.
Then there’s “psychedelic,” a term coined in the 1950s by psychiatrist Humphry Osmond. It means “mind manifesting,” from the Greek roots psyche (mind) and deloun (to make visible). Unlike “hallucinogen,” it doesn’t reduce the experience to visual effects. It suggests that the substance brings forth something already within the mind. That definition, while still imperfect, opened the door for deeper discussions about consciousness, healing, and creativity.
But the vocabulary doesn’t stop there.
“Entheogen” is another term gaining popularity, especially in spiritual and ceremonial contexts. Derived from Greek for “generating the divine within,” it’s used to describe substances that facilitate mystical or religious experiences. It emphasizes reverence and intention—qualities central to many indigenous practices. Ayahuasca, peyote, and psilocybin are often referred to as entheogens in recognition of their traditional roles as spiritual sacraments.
Then there’s “psychoplastogen,” a newer scientific term highlighted in the “N is for Neuroplasticity” chapter. This label refers to substances that promote brain plasticity, helping neurons form new connections. Ketamine, LSD, and psilocybin all fall into this category. The focus here isn’t the subjective experience, but the biological mechanisms behind the healing. It’s a term with clinical credibility, which may help psychedelics gain acceptance in mainstream psychiatry.
So, which word is right? The answer depends on context.
If you’re a neuroscientist, “psychoplastogen” might help you speak to colleagues and funders. If you’re a shaman or spiritual seeker, “entheogen” may better reflect your relationship to the medicine. If you’re navigating the legal system, “hallucinogen” might be the term you encounter, though it’s one that may need to evolve. And “psychedelic,” with all its cultural baggage and creative spark, might be the broadest bridge between them all.
Dr. Chernoloz makes it clear that language isn’t just semantics. It reflects how society sees these substances—dangerous or healing, sacred or profane, recreational or medicinal. By choosing our words carefully, we can help rewrite the story around psychedelics.
In the end, what matters most is not just what we call these compounds, but how we understand and respect them. Naming is a form of meaning-making. And with psychedelics, meaning is everything.
