Wednesday, October 15, 2025

 

A sacred leaf on trial: Scientists urge WHO to support decriminalizing coca




Harvard University
Aymara Women harvesting_CAROLINE-CONZELMAN.jpg 

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Aymara women harvesting coca leaves in Bolivia. Photo by Caroline Conzelman

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Credit: Caroline Conzelman



For thousands of years, people in the Andes have chewed the leaves of the coca plant to stave off hunger, treat altitude sickness, and sustain energy. Yet under international law, this ancient crop is treated as harshly as cocaine and fentanyl. Now, scientists say it’s time to end that contradiction.

A new international perspective published in Science argues that scientific evidence clearly supports the coca leaf as a benign, useful, and culturally paramount crop plant that should be removed from the list of Schedule I substances – where it currently appears alongside cocaine and fentanyl – under the 1961 Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs.

“Coca’s record of safe use and cultural importance stands in stark contrast to the harms of purified cocaine,” said lead author Dawson M. White, Postdoctoral Researcher in the Department of Organismic and Evolutionary Biology at Harvard. “Recognizing this difference is essential for evidence-based policy and for aligning with the goals expressed by South American communities most affected by prohibition.”

The analysis arrives at a pivotal moment, as the World Health Organization (WHO) is currently reviewing the legal status of coca. An expert report compiled by the WHO confirms both the lack of harm from the coca leaf and the tangible harms caused by its prohibition. The WHO’s Expert Committee on Drug Dependence (ECDD) will meet in Geneva from October 20–22, 2025, to formalize a recommendation to the United Nations (UN) Commission on Narcotic Drugs.

“This meeting is a rare opportunity for the WHO and UN to correct a classification rooted in colonial bias and outdated science,” said White.

The authors draw on evidence from anthropology, evolutionary biology, biochemistry, pharmacology, economics, and the social sciences to distinguish the coca plant from its purified alkaloid, cocaine. The findings also point to the need for long-overdue reform of global drug policy, highlighting that coca has been cultivated for more than 8,000 years and safely used as a mild stimulant, medicine, and ritual element across more than 100 cultures.

The research also references a coordinated pronunciamiento from coca producer and consumer communities supporting petitions by Bolivia and Colombia. The document – signed by traditional coca producers, Indigenous representatives, and allied organizations – urges the WHO to recognize coca’s cultural, medicinal, nutritional, and social value; to reject its stigmatization based on cocaine use; and to recommend its removal from international control lists.

“Efforts to reform coca policy must begin with the people who know the plant best,” said Claude Guislain of the Indigenous Medicine Conservation Fund. “Indigenous peoples cultivate sophisticated knowledge systems that have used coca to sustain balance within their communities and territories for millennia. Our role has been to walk alongside them – to amplify their voices and help ensure that international policy reflects the realities they live and defend.”

“The coca leaf is not a narcotic, but a sacred and nutritious plant with deep cultural roots,” said Ricardo SoberĂ³n Garrido, former President of DEVIDA, Peru’s National Commission for Development and Life Without Drugs, which coordinates the country’s drug policy and coca-development strategies. “De-scheduling coca would uphold Indigenous rights and align global policy with modern science.”

In addition, the paper reviews findings from the WHO’s Critical Review Report on Coca Leaf (2025), which concludes that traditional uses pose no significant public-health risks.

The study finds that removing coca from the list of controlled substances would correct a long-standing scientific and legal misclassification. “Such a change would recognize the rights of Indigenous and other coca-growing communities while allowing for evidence-based regulation informed by traditional knowledge,” said White.

The authors also note that de-scheduling coca could enable medical research on its diverse bioactive compounds and create new, sustainable economic opportunities in rural regions. They emphasize that the ongoing WHO review offers a rare and timely chance to align international drug policy with science, justice, and cultural reality —allowing the global community to understand and benefit from the coca plant responsibly.

Many of the co-authors first met at the Wisdom of the Leaf summit in Urubamba, Peru, hosted by the McKenna Academy of Natural Philosophy, which released a short film from that meeting.

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Amazonian coca leaf. Photo by Khoka Project

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Khoka Project

Researchers link firearm dealer openings to increases in local shootings


Rutgers University







Opening new gun stores may raise neighborhood shooting rates for years, highlighting how firearm availability affects community violence, according to Rutgers researchers.

When a federally licensed firearm dealer opens in a neighborhood, local shootings tend to increase — and those higher rates last over time, according to a Rutgers-led study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine.

Led by Daniel Semenza, an associate professor at Rutgers University-Camden and director of research at the New Jersey Gun Violence Research Center, researchers examined how the opening and closing of federally licensed firearm dealers impact local shooting rates in United States neighborhoods over time.

“When new federally licensed firearm dealers open in neighborhoods, our results show that local shootings increase and stay high for years,” Semenza said. “Dealer openings are not just a business issue. They influence public safety by increasing access to guns in communities.”

Researchers analyzed data from more than 20,000 neighborhoods across the 100 largest U.S. cities from 2015 to 2022, linking annual counts of shootings with records of firearm dealer openings and closures. The researchers said the findings suggest the presence and regulation of firearm dealers have measurable effects on neighborhood safety.

Neighborhoods with a new firearm dealer opening experienced significant increases in shootings after two to three years. A dealer opening in a neighborhood that previously had no dealers was associated with a 7.5% increase in the rate of total shootings two years later and a 13.3% increase in the rate of total shootings three years later. 

This suggests dealer openings are a critical factor driving neighborhood-level gun violence, with effects lasting over time, the researchers said.

Closing dealers alone is unlikely to reduce violence – the guns they sold remain in circulation – without broader efforts to limit supply and improve oversight, with efforts like closing illegal secondary markets.

 

Project unearths voices from one of the world’s first HIV/AIDS service organizations



Students and researchers at Binghamton University's Human Sexualities Lab interviewed 120 people, assembled an archive and bridged a generational divide



Binghamton University

Gay Men's Health Crisis brochures and informational pamphlets 

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Brochures and informational pamphlets produced by Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC), the world’s first major HIV/AIDS service organization.

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Credit: Sean Massey





Sometimes you discover history in a garage, stored in dusty boxes, or in memories that go unspoken for decades. Often, it falls to the next generation — curious and respectful — to do the necessary work of sifting, sorting and asking questions.

A groundbreaking project spearheaded by Binghamton University, State University of New York's Human Sexualities Research Lab did more than add to the history of Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC), the world’s first major HIV/AIDS service organization. It also breached a generational divide and pioneered new ways to conduct oral history.

“It ended up being probably the most transformative experience of my professional and personal life so far,” said Casey Adrian ’22, MSW ’24, the first author of two publications connected with the project. “As a queer person, it totally transformed the way I think about the community that I’m a part of.”

Co-authored by Binghamton University Associate Professor of Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies Sean Massey, Western Carolina University Assistant Professor of History Julia Haager MA ’15, PhD ’22, and Weill Cornell Medicine Associate Professor of Social Work Sarah Young, “‘You Folks Are the Ones That Are Going to Carry On’: Conducting Cross-Generational Oral Histories About the HIV/AIDS Crisis” recently appeared in The Oral History Review. A second article, co-authored by Adrian, Massey, Haager, and Eden Lowinger ’23, MSW ’25, is forthcoming in the American Journal of Public Health.

For the project, a team of mostly undergraduates — led by Massey and Haager— interviewed 120 former GMHC volunteers, gaining insight into the organization’s work at the height of the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. Formed in 1982 by five gay men in playwright Larry Kramer’s New York City apartment, the organization provided care, advocacy and support to a community that was largely feared and shunned.

“The government wasn’t doing anything, and health and social services weren’t prepared to deal with this,” said Massey, who volunteered with GMHC with his husband during the period. “People were being kicked out of their families and their apartments, disowned, fired from their jobs, and nobody was helping.”

As the epidemic expanded, so did the diversity of people affected by it. Once seen as a disease that solely affected gay, white men — the reality is far more complex — HIV was increasingly impacting heterosexuals, women, people of color, children and people who use or have used intravenous drugs. GMHC adapted to the shifting realities, but not without tension or struggle, Massey said.

A key component of the organization’s work was its buddy teams, which functioned as case managers, homecare attendants, advocates and confidants to individuals with HIV. Overall, the organization’s volunteers weren’t social workers or public health professionals, but queer people and their allies responding to an emerging crisis in their community, Adrian reflected.

“They did powerful, innovative and unprecedented things. They created materials that promoted sexual health, and were destigmatizing and celebrated queer identity,” Adrian said. “They created cutting-edge systems of peer care and peer support. They engaged in policy change and legal support for people facing discrimination — most of the time without a background in any sort of professional care or public health field.”

The process

Massey and his husband stayed involved with GMHC for a decade, first as volunteers and then as employees, until their life and work took them away from the Big Apple. Around five years ago, they discovered boxes of GMHC documents and informational materials while clearing out their garage.

“I knew we couldn’t throw that stuff away,” Massey said.

 He discovered that GMHC had donated their administrative files to the New York Public Library in the mid-90s and reached out. Perusing the GMHC archives sparked another idea: writing a history of those transformational years at the organization, which saw the expansion of its mission to a broader public.

A social psychologist, Massey reached out to the History Department for expertise. The department connected him with Haager, whose research focuses on 20th century public health and eugenics.

Reviewing the documents in the lab, Haager suggested interviewing the people named in them, if they were still available. Together, they laid the groundwork for the oral history project, drawing in undergraduate students from the Human Sexualities Lab.

The interviews, conducted on Zoom, took place during the pandemic, and subjects were sent the questions ahead of time. The number of interviews snowballed — a dozen became 80, then 90 and eventually around 120. Typical oral history projects, on the other hand, involve maybe 40 interviews at most, said Haager, now an assistant professor of history at Western Carolina University.

“We broke rules that needed to be broken,” Haager said.

A typical oral history project is conducted one-on-one, although a historian may interview a group of subjects at one time. In the GMHC project, the dynamic was reversed with a group of interviewers — mostly undergraduates — talking with a single subject. This worked surprisingly well, likely because of the intergenerational nature of the connection.

Behind the scenes, the senior researchers used Google Chat to guide the student team during the interviews, instilling confidence, remembered Young, a former faculty member in the Human Sexualities Lab. 

“This was a unique model that people could learn from in terms of how to conduct these kinds of interviews, and also how to train emerging scholars,” Young said.

Unlike traditional historians, the interview teams took time to process the emotional weight of what they heard, preserving their own well-being so they could be fully present for their subjects. Collaboration and self-care are strategies that historians may do well to adopt, Haager reflected.

“People were sharing things and saying to us over and over again: ‘I haven’t talked about this in 30 years. Thank you for giving me a place to talk about it,’” Haager recounted.

“They were great storytellers,” Massey added. “The story wasn’t just about loss, but about meaning: how they got through it, how important the work was and what they learned from it.”

Students were also involved in compiling material history. It turns out that many of the interview subjects, like Massey, had boxes of GMHC material in their homes. Boxes soon lined the wall of Massey’s office with meeting minutes, safer-sex pamphlets, training resources, newsletters, magazines, buttons, t-shirts and more.

Undergraduates central to both the oral history project and the cataloguing work include Adrian, Lowinger, Sarah Morea ’22, Dan Pergel ’23 and Claire Goldstein ’24.

GMHC had donated their administrative files to the New York Public Library in the mid-90s; the library agreed to add these additional materials to their collection, along with the recorded video interviews with former GMHC staff and volunteers. The collection is now being catalogued and should be open to the public by the spring.

As a social worker with a background in community organizing, Young was struck by the solidarity shown by the gay community of that time.

“There’s a metaphor of building a bike while riding it. It’s a perfect metaphor for this project because these were people whose partners, friends, lovers and community members were dying a terrible death. In the face of that, how do we try to make lives better for people?” Young said. “The archive speaks to that.”

The impact

A refrain emerged, repeated across each interview: working at GMHC was “the most important thing I ever did.” Massey and Adrian are turning the project into a book, and that phrase is the working title.

“They were young when they did this work, in their 20s and 30s,” Massey said. “They all left at different times for different reasons, but to a person, what they ended up doing in their lives was undeniably tied to this experience they had in their youth working for this organization. 

Some went into social work or public health; others drew on their fundraising or graphic design experience at GMHC to pursue careers in those areas. Massey’s own career trajectory and outlook were shaped by his experience there, he acknowledged.

Through the oral history project, GMHC is still shaping careers. The project gave Haager the opportunity to explore the ways in which she approaches her discipline, and she has since shifted her focus to digital public history, she said.

A Women, Gender and Sexuality major as an undergrad, Adrian’s involvement in the project led him to complete his master’s in social work. Today, he is the assistant director of the Program for Research on Youth Development and Engagement (PRYDE) at Cornell University’s Bronfenbrenner Center for Translational Research.

“I want to be part of a generation that eliminates the HIV epidemic,” he explained. “Hearing these stories shaped that desire. I feel very fortunate to be part of a generation of queer people who aren’t living through this kind of crisis, and I want to honor the people who responded to this horrible health emergency by being part of the change.”

The project also played an important role in bridging generational divides. Even LGBTQ students are unaware of the AIDS epidemic’s history and its impact on the gay community, Massey said.

Older generations of queer people may see the younger generation as standoffish or uninterested in this history, while younger people may see the older generation as no longer relevant, Adrian reflected. This tension sometimes came up implicitly in the interview space; conversation helped dispel it.

“It’s a lesson for my generation and future generations of queer people: How our community is able to stand up and say no when we’re faced with oppression and health disparities,” Adrian said. “How queer people can rally around each other and promote their own health and well-being.”

Binghamton University student Claire Goldstein '24 catalogs materials associated with Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC), the world’s first major HIV/AIDS service organization.

 

Binghamton University students Eden Lowinger ’23, MSW ’25 and Casey Adrian ’22, MSW ’24 (right) catalog materials associated with Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC), the world’s first major HIV/AIDS service organization.