An ant that raises its own camels
Formica sanguinea is a reddish insect barely a centimeter (0.4 inches) long that populates much of Eurasia and has earned a reputation as a bully. It tends to displace other ants in its environment until it becomes the dominant species. To achieve this, it raids neighboring anthills, plunders their larvae and eggs, and, when they grow up, puts them to work as slaves. Hence its other names: Raptiformica or “slave-making ant.”
The curious part comes with its guests. Sanguinea welcomes beetles of the genus Lomechusa into its nest and cares for them meticulously, larvae included. The reason? These beetles secrete a substance that the ants eagerly lick. After consuming it, as described by myrmecologists, the insects lose their orientation, stumble, and sway. Simply put: the colony keeps its suppliers in exchange for a steady supply. That is why some jokingly nickname Formica sanguinea “the junkie ant.”
From five species to “all”
The ant is no exception. Monkeys, goats, cows, birds, mongooses, reindeer, felines, and many others have been observed seeking out plants, fermented fruits, or fungi that alter their state. Italian ethnobotanist Giorgio Samorini summarizes this with a striking progression: two centuries ago, only five “addicted” species were cited; in the 1970s, forty were accepted; in the 1990s, three hundred; today, hundreds are documented, and in his opinion, the trend points toward understanding the behavior as general throughout the animal kingdom. “It is the rule, not the deviation,” he maintains.
The important point of his thesis is that, in many cases, these are not accidents. Samorini emphasizes that there are signs of intentional consumption: the animal repeats the behavior even if it entails risk. In the African elephant, it even seems to be passed down through generations: calves insert their trunks into their mother’s mouth to taste what she is eating, and thus learn which fermented fruits produce intoxication.
Humans: the same behavior, different tools
There is, however, a practical difference. Most animals can only get intoxicated when nature blooms and bears fruit, so their “parties” are tied to the seasonal calendar. Homo sapiens, on the other hand, has learned to bypass that limitation: we cultivate, ferment, distill, and manipulate the chemistry of plants and molecules we create ourselves to have substances available whenever we want.
But no matter how sophisticated the technique, the underlying behavior—seeking to alter one’s own consciousness—is as “natural” in humans as it is in an ant or an elephant. Chemist and ethnobotanist Jonathan Ott takes this idea into the realm of language: if inebriation is a neurochemical phenomenon present in so many species, speaking of “artificial paradises” to refer to drugs is paradoxical. For Ott, the true artifices would be poetry or philosophy—the exclusive work of human hands—while the attraction to psychoactive substances would be, in his terminology, a “natural paradise.”
Siegel’s “fourth drive”
The idea does not come only from ethnobotany. From the field of psychopharmacology, Ronald K. Siegel, who dedicated much of his career to studying the social and psychological effects of consumption, argued that “in a sense, the search for intoxicating substances is the norm rather than the aberration.” Siegel went on to conceptualize this search as a fourth drive: an acquired behavior—like social attachments or the desire for power—that, while not innate like hunger, thirst, or the sexual drive, operates with comparable force.
Hence his most discussed conclusion: that neither evolution nor prohibitionist laws have managed to eradicate the behavior in any era or culture. The ultimate goal, according to Siegel, is not a specific effect (relaxing, stimulating), but something more basic: “to feel different.” Plants and substances are, in his reading, simple tools to satisfy desires—pleasure, escapism, the search for meaning—that already guide much of human behavior with or without drugs.
Both Siegel and Samorini deduce from this universality that the behavior must have some adaptive value, although no one has managed to pinpoint it. Their hypothesis: getting high could be another expression of exploration and sensation-seeking, risky behaviors but with evolutionary potential, because—they suggest—great rewards are usually reserved for those who dare to step off the beaten path.
Critical reading
The thesis is suggestive and has the virtue of dismantling the idea that consumption is a moral oddity or an invention of modernity. However, it should be approached with caution and not turned into an excuse:
“Natural” does not mean “harmless” or “recommended.” Just because a behavior is widespread in nature does not make it safe or desirable. Aggression, parasitism, and predation are also very natural. Appealing to what is “natural” to validate consumption is a classic fallacy.
Anthropomorphism and cherry-picking. A good portion of observations about animals “getting high” are episodic and interpreted through human categories. Attributing intention, pleasure, or “fondness” to an insect or a ruminant requires caution: correlation is not proof of motivation, and striking cases tend to spread more than nuances.
The evolutionary value is, for now, a hypothesis. The idea of the “fourth drive” and the adaptive benefit of intoxication is stimulating, but it is not proven. There are alternative explanations—from dietary coincidence to the accidental “hijacking” of reward circuits—that do not require postulating any advantage.
Real risk in humans. Precisely because human technique breaks seasonal limits, it also multiplies availability, potency, and potential harm: dependency, interactions, and unsafe contexts. Recognizing that the impulse is ancient does not diminish the importance of harm reduction; it makes it more necessary. Educational content written from a harm reduction perspective and with respect for individual freedom. It is not a substitute for advice from a healthcare professional and is not intended to encourage or condemn any drug use.
