Acid in the USSR: The Unknown Story of Drug Use in the Soviet Union
Until the mid-1980s, the official statistics in the Soviet Union claimed that neither drugs nor drug addicts existed. Of course, this was a lie—drugs and addicts were present, but their numbers were minuscule compared to the overwhelming alcoholism that gripped Soviet society. This article, in collaboration with the author of the Telegram channel “Directory of Psychoactive Substances,” explores the hidden pages of Soviet psychedelia.
The Czech Connection
The history of Soviet psychedelia begins in 1951, when the “Encyclopedic Dictionary of Medicinal Essential Oil and Poisonous Plants” was published in a run of 25,000 copies. The book quickly became a bible for domestic users and producers of mind-altering substances, selling out almost instantly. It contained exhaustive information on how, where, and when to collect ergot (the main component of LSD), as well as detailed instructions for processing and producing related substances. While this information was useless to the untrained reader, a professional chemist could easily synthesize various isomers of lysergic acid. The encyclopedia was so valued that foreign book dealers sold it only for dollars—starting at $50 and up.
Other socialist countries knew even more about psychedelics. In the early 1960s, Czechoslovakia was the only country in the world to establish the production of pure pharmaceutical LSD. Some researchers had unlimited access to it, including Stanislav Grof, an American psychiatrist who visited the Soviet Union in 1964. During his seven years at the Prague Institute of Psychiatric Research, Grof studied all kinds of psychedelics. Together with his wife Christina Grof, he made a huge contribution to psychology—proposing revolutionary theories and developing a powerful non-drug method of self-exploration and psychotherapy called holotropic breathing.
Ironically, it was the American Grof who introduced the Soviet Union to real LSD. At first, he was reluctant to visit a country where deep psychiatry didn’t exist and Freud was banned. But he became interested in joining the research group of Vladimir Myasishchev, who was developing methods of dynamic psychiatry. Grof brought with him 300 ampoules of LSD-25. At the time, the drug was considered as harmless as aspirin, so there was nothing to fear.
At the Bekhterev Institute in Leningrad, Grof gave public lectures on the use of LSD in psychotherapy. He spoke fluent Russian, and his talks were always packed. In smaller circles, psychedelic research took on a different format.
“During our first meeting at the Bekhterev Institute, we reported on our work with psychedelics and suggested holding an LSD session with all interested team members. The therapeutic team gladly agreed to journey into the depths of their psyche with a substance untainted by Freudian stigma,” Grof wrote.
The enthusiasm of Leningrad scientists was understandable. At the time, there were no official psychedelic studies in the USSR, and existing projects were laughable. For example, biochemist Lipin studied the effects of psilocybin (a substance similar to LSD) on the blood vessels of rabbit ears. Meanwhile, rumors circulated that LSD and mescaline were used by the KGB during interrogations and for ideological manipulation, but there was no evidence. Instead, huge sums were allocated for parapsychology and extrasensory perception research, with annual budgets exceeding 20 million rubles, as Soviet intelligence saw great military potential in these fields.
Stanislav Grof spent four weeks in Leningrad. In that time, he gave dozens of lectures, visited the Hermitage, and became close friends with Soviet scientists at vodka-fueled parties. As a gesture of goodwill, he gifted his “Leningrad colleagues a significant number of remaining LSD ampoules so they could continue their research.”
Grof’s visit had a huge impact on Leningrad psychiatrists. When American psychiatrist Isidor Zifferstein visited the USSR a few years later, he witnessed sweeping changes. Scientists at the Bekhterev Institute, who previously cited Pavlov, now talked about Eastern philosophy, various schools of yoga and Zen Buddhism, and discussed books like Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” and “Island,” as well as Hermann Hesse’s “Journey to the East.”
“Knowing that mentioning a possible link between staff psychedelic sessions and their changing interests could have unpleasant consequences for them, I refrained from stating the most likely explanation for Dr. Zifferstein’s mysterious discovery,” Grof recalled.
Features of Soviet Psychedelia
Many wonder how drug addicts appeared in such a closed country as the USSR, and where they got LSD and other drugs. The answer, according to renowned addiction specialist Alexander Danilin in his book “LSD: Hallucinogens, Psychedelia, and the Phenomenon of Addiction,” is twofold.
On one hand, information about mysterious drugs was brought from prison by former inmates, leading to the appearance of “pseudo-hallucinogens” on Soviet streets. The second source was the security services. Law enforcement officers often shared, for money, “mysterious substances” with friends and acquaintances, which they obtained from scientific institutions—primarily LSD-25 from laboratories.
Prison sources mostly dealt with homemade drugs, while substances stolen from labs were chemically pure. It seemed that Soviet citizens were willing to risk everything to experience esoteric truths. Most used hallucinogens, especially LSD, for spiritual exploration. Both pure and underground-synthesized LSD were available.
One of the most famous groups to learn how to synthesize LSD themselves was called “Context.” Members gathered for “self-awareness marathons” several times a month, sometimes weekly. The tragic story of Nikolai Tsen is particularly telling: after another LSD therapy session, he walked outside and threw himself under a tram, leaving a note saying he had finally learned the secrets of the world and was moving on to another.
Mushrooms, alongside LSD, were the main hallucinogen in the Soviet Union. They were consumed recklessly, often in doses several times higher than lethal. Many died, and survivors saw these deaths as a given—an offering on the altar of self-discovery.
In Search of Meaning
Unlike their American counterparts, Soviet psychonauts did not see the use of hallucinogenic mushrooms or LSD as an end in itself. For most, these substances were just tools for quickly entering altered states. They recognized the dangers and knew they could get stuck in these states forever. The goal of Soviet enlightenment through drugs was to fight hallucinations, since it was crucial not to lose touch with reality—given the high risk of falling completely into hallucination. Naturally, none of these mushroom users ever achieved their ultimate goal.
Soviet psychonauts actively sought inner freedom and tried to break free from the constraints of the Bolshevik world. They didn’t want to live in it, but couldn’t fight it physically. This shows that Russian drug users weren’t chasing the effects of LSD and other substances, but were searching for special states of consciousness. That’s why, in practice, vodka and alcohol—not mushrooms or LSD—were the main hallucinogens in the USSR.
Cracked Minds
All esotericists, UFO researchers, and people searching for traces of yetis or ancient civilizations in the mountains and forests can be considered adepts of Soviet psychedelia. What unites them is faith and sincerity in their search.
Unfortunately, Soviet psychiatrists and psychologists never had the chance to observe the phenomenon of “American psychedelia” firsthand. They could only discuss it indirectly, based on available literature. The most severe consequences of mental breakdown are well known: people became schizophrenic and ended up in psychiatric hospitals.
Psychonauts fled society, seeking self-awareness in remote villages, where things usually ended with the use of other psychoactive substances like opiates and alcohol. Prolonged use led to irreversible mental consequences, turning people into real monsters.
The most famous case is the story of “Kunta.” Several students aged 16 to 25 decided to create a new type of yoga, which they called “Kunta.” Their main goal was to become magicians. They lived antisocial lives, got rid of all documents, and settled in an abandoned school in a Karelian village. They developed a system of meditation on symbols, which they believed turned them into powerful magicians. Even today, you can meet people who claim the group seduced women, put out fires, saved drowning people, healed the terminally ill, or drove out cockroaches for good with their magical powers.
In their search for entry into parallel worlds, the “Kunta” adepts took every substance they could find: mushrooms, marijuana, alcohol, and, of course, LSD. By the early 1990s, none of the 15 group members were still alive. Only a few died from something other than drug overdose—for example, the group’s founder was killed in a fight, stabbed more than twenty times.
Today, we can say with confidence that most followers of such esoteric truths have very few options for their future: either vodka in a ruined village house at the edge of the country, a psychiatric hospital, or death at the hands of their own fellow believers.