The debate surrounding John Marco Allegro’s groundbreaking, yet controversial, theories on the role of entheogens in early religion continues to fascinate and provoke. A key point of contention often arises from the dismissive stance taken by some scholars, exemplified by the case of renowned mycologist R. Gordon Wasson and his interaction with Jack Herer, author of The Emperor Wears No Clothes. This interaction, recounted by Herer himself, casts a stark light on the nature of academic dismissal and the importance of primary source engagement, particularly when evaluating Allegro’s work.
Herer detailed a 1984 telephone conversation with Wasson, prompted by Herer’s extensive six-month examination of Allegro’s references. Seeking to understand Wasson’s criticisms of Allegro, Herer directly questioned Wasson’s reasoning. Astonishingly, according to Herer’s recollection, Wasson admitted to not having read Allegro’s seminal work directly. Instead, Wasson confessed to relying entirely on the second-hand opinions of a Jewish Rabbi and a Catholic Monsignor. These unnamed figures, Wasson claimed, had reviewed Allegro’s book and declared it utterly devoid of truth. This anecdote, corroborated by Professor Carl A. P. Ruck, reveals a troubling reliance on unqualified, secondary opinions in dismissing a complex scholarly work.
Further deepening the critique of Wasson’s approach is the examination of his shifting stance on the Plaincourault fresco, a key piece of evidence in ethnomycological discourse. Allegro, in The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross (SMC), references this fresco as potential visual evidence of a Christian tradition acknowledging mushroom-based mythology, specifically connecting it to the Eden story. He highlights the depiction of Amanita muscaria intertwined with a serpent alongside Eve in the thirteenth-century French fresco.
However, Allegro also notes Wasson’s contradictory position. While Allegro interpreted the fresco in light of mushroom symbolism, Wasson, in a footnote, expressed rejection of this interpretation. Wasson’s rationale, as articulated in the 1954 edition of his work and a private letter from 1953, was that mycologists had been mistaken for half a century. He argued that the fresco was not a mushroom, but a “Pilzbaum,” a stylized motif representing the Palestinian tree of temptation, a conventional iconographic element in Byzantine and Romanesque art. This revised interpretation, presented without direct engagement with Allegro’s detailed analysis, underscores a concerning pattern of dismissal based on shifting justifications and secondary opinions rather than rigorous primary research.
This examination of the Allegro-Wasson exchange, highlighted through Herer’s account and the Plaincourault fresco example, serves as a potent reminder within the field of ethnomycology and beyond. Engaging with primary sources, understanding the nuances of scholarly arguments, and conducting thorough, first-hand research are paramount. Dismissing complex theories, particularly those as paradigm-challenging as John Marco Allegro’s, based on hearsay and superficial engagement undermines the very foundation of academic discourse and intellectual progress. For anyone venturing into ethnomycology or related fields, the lesson is clear: competence demands direct engagement with the source material and a commitment to rigorous, primary research, especially when confronting controversial yet potentially transformative ideas like those of John Marco Allegro.
