Lessons on Psychedelic Policy Reform and a Failed Bill in Maine

Psychedelic Science 2025 Dispatch #7: Sam Chapman talks legalization and decriminalization efforts across the country, and the lessons we need to learn

Last week, North Spore was on the ground in Denver, Colorado at Psychedelic Science 2025—the world’s largest gathering dedicated to psychedelic research, therapy, and culture, hosted by MAPS- the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies. Over the coming days, we’ll be sharing more on-the-ground dispatches from the conference floor. These posts will serve as a window into the psychedelic moment as it’s unfolding in real time. And later this summer, we’ll be releasing a slate of video content on YouTube, diving deeper into the conversations and discoveries that took place there. Stay tuned. - Matt

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The psychedelic renaissance isn’t just happening in clinical trials and therapy rooms, it’s unfolding in statehouses, hearing rooms, and on ballots across the country. At this year’s Psychedelic Science conference in Denver, I had the chance to sit in on a talk by Sam Chapman from the Center for Psychedelic Policy. Titled The National Psychedelic Landscape: An Overview of Past, Current, and Future Policy Reform, it was the kind of presentation that reminded me how much of this movement hinges not just on science or culture, but on strategy.

Chapman took the stage in a short-sleeved button-up and a calm confidence that immediately set the tone. He opened with a story about his father, a Vietnam War veteran and former Coast Guard service member who once survived a storm off the coast of Hawaii so intense it snapped his mast and nearly sank his boat. “He was saved by the Coast Guard just minutes before the boat went under,” Chapman said. “Now he’s finding relief through microdosing.” The circular irony, traumatized by a near-death experience, saved by the very agency that shaped his trauma, and now healing through a therapy still largely criminalized, was a poignant reminder of why policy reform matters.

And make no mistake: reform is happening. Fast. Since 2020, over 220 psychedelic bills have been introduced in 38 states and Washington D.C. It’s easy to feel like we’re watching history in motion. But Chapman’s message was clear, momentum doesn’t equal inevitability. Many of these bills fail. And even when they pass, they often fall short of making psychedelic care truly accessible.

That point hit especially close to home as someone who watched Maine’s recent psilocybin bill, LD 1034, go down in flames after initially clearing both chambers. The bill would’ve decriminalized possession of up to one ounce of psilocybin for adults over 21. No commercial market, no production or distribution scheme. Just a step toward removing criminal penalties. And yet, it died in the House by just two votes, and then again in a tied Senate vote. It was a sobering moment for those of us in the state who thought progress was finally breaking through.

Chapman’s talk helped me make sense of that defeat.

He shared findings from the National Psychedelic Landscape Assessment, the most comprehensive analysis to date of how psychedelic legislation is, or isn’t, advancing. His goal was to answer some of the big-picture questions we’re all grappling with: What kinds of bills are being introduced? Why do some pass and others fail? And how do we move beyond legalization to real-world access?

One of the most striking takeaways: we’re in a new legislative era. The early psychedelic victories, Denver in 2019, Oregon in 2020, were driven by ballot initiatives. Citizen-led efforts that allowed advocates to craft bold, sweeping reforms and take them directly to the voters. But ballot campaigns are expensive and high-stakes. Today, most activity is happening inside legislatures, where lawmakers on both sides of the aisle are sponsoring bills.

Yes, both sides. Chapman emphasized that this is one of the rare issues in U.S. politics with true bipartisan momentum. Republicans and Democrats are introducing psychedelic legislation across the country. “This moment transcends politics,” Chapman said. “But it won’t last forever.”

And yet, despite this flurry of activity, most bills don’t cross the finish line.

Chapman laid out a set of “gaps” that consistently undermine legislative efforts, patterns that, if left unaddressed, could stall the entire movement.

First: lack of agency input. Too many bills are written without buy-in from the state agencies tasked with implementing them. “It’s like handing them a homework assignment,” Chapman said, “and then asking them to pay for it.” That doesn’t go over well in budget committees.

Second: no champions. Successful legislation almost always has a legislative sponsor who really gets it, someone with credibility and passion who can explain the bill to colleagues and push it through the noise. Veterans, healthcare professionals, Indigenous leaders, when these voices are involved, it changes the conversation.

Third: unclear messaging. Psychedelics remain unfamiliar and controversial to many lawmakers. If the rationale for a bill isn’t clear, or sounds like a leap too far, hesitation wins.

Fourth: no field plan. Chapman emphasized that passing a bill is only the first step. Without a plan for implementation, funding, infrastructure, workforce training, policy victories can quickly become symbolic.

That last point is something we’re seeing play out right now in Oregon. The state’s psilocybin services program has served over 10,000 people since its launch, a huge milestone. But the vast majority of those clients are paying between $1,000 and $2,500 per session. That level of cost is unsustainable and, frankly, inaccessible for the people who need it most. “Legal doesn’t mean accessible,” Chapman said. “Affordability is the biggest threat to the long-term sustainability of the psychedelic movement.”

So what’s the solution?

Chapman proposed a targeted, strategic approach: pilot programs. Think Medicaid recipients. People struggling with addiction. Veterans. States are already spending millions on mental health and substance abuse treatment, and often with mixed results. What if we created pilot psychedelic programs that could outperform the status quo?

The idea isn’t to leapfrog into a fully commercial model overnight. It’s to meet states where they are. Design small, contained programs that are politically feasible, generate useful data, and, most importantly, deliver real results.

That’s the animating mission of Chapman’s organization, the Center for Psychedelic Policy: turning insight into action. He closed the talk with a call to each corner of the movement:

• If you’re a funder, help build pilot models that deliver real, measurable impact.

• If you’re a legislator, work with us to tailor policy to your landscape and agency capacity.

• If you’re an advocate, collaborate to craft plans grounded in political reality.

• If you’re a researcher, we need your help generating data that convinces state leaders to invest in healing, not infrastructure.

Psychedelics have captivated the public imagination. But if we don’t solve for cost, access, and strategy, that promise could slip through our fingers.

Chapman’s presentation reminded me of something we sometimes forget in this space: a law is only as good as its implementation. And implementation is only as strong as the coalition behind it.

In Maine, we didn’t have a coalition that could get it passed.

A major factor was opposition from key state agencies, including the Maine Department of Public Safety, the Maine CDC, and the Maine Drug Enforcement Agency, who expressed concern over the lack of a regulatory framework, public safety implications, and the absence of guardrails around implementation. While the bill had bipartisan sponsors and received testimony from veterans in support, it lacked sustained advocacy from high-profile or broadly influential stakeholders who might have reassured hesitant lawmakers.

Without a clear plan for funding, oversight, or integration into existing health systems, LD 1034 appeared to some legislators as premature, especially given the continued stigma and unfamiliarity surrounding psychedelics.

The future of psychedelic reform will require more than enthusiasm. It’ll require frameworks, field plans, and maybe most of all, a willingness to learn from each other’s mistakes.

Chapman said it best: “Let’s build pilot models that are impactful.”