Beyond the Trip: How Fungi Are Engineering Our Future

The usual story taught to children around the world is one of simple categorisation. We are conditioned to view life through a binary lens: Plants & Animals/Flora & Fauna. In this simplified view of the natural world, the mushroom is quite unceremoniously relegated to the kitchen. A passive, silent ingredient we slice onto pizzas or pop alongside our steak and onions. We farm them like crops and view them as a quirky subset of the botanical world.

This is, in fact, a biological falsehood.

Fungi are not plants. They do not contain chlorophyll, and they do not photosynthesise. While plants breathe in carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen, fungi do the opposite. Like animals, they breathe oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. In evolutionary terms, the mushrooms on your plate are more closely related to you than the side salad they are placed beside. They could perhaps be seen as a separate space of biology entirely. A third aspect of the natural world, quietly binding it together.

To understand the scale of the paradigm shift currently reshaping the biotechnology sphere, we must first consider the corresponding scale of the “Kingdom of Fungi”. Scientists at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, estimate that we have yet to discover upwards of 90% of the world’s fungi. We are currently living through what could be seen as a golden age of discovery in this realm. In Kew’s “State of the World’s Plants and Fungi 2023”, it describes how over 2500 new species are named and described every year.

For centuries, our relationship with this hidden kingdom has been limited to the surface. In past cultures, such as the ancient Greeks, fungi were described as “food of the gods”. In more recent history, the 1960s, Western societies embraced them as counter-cultural icons. Psilocybin, like LSD, was just as viable a means to unlock Huxley’s famous Doors of Perception. For the last several years, however, we have begun to realise that we have been looking at the wrong part of the organism. We have obsessed over the bewildering, ever-increasing variety of surface-level “fruit” – ignoring the complexity of the network beneath the soil.

Under every forest floor lies the “Wood Wide Web”. This is a huge subterranean internet of fungal filaments which connects 90% of all plant species. It is this complex architecture that allows fungi to act as the world’s recyclers, builders, and communicators. This process has been integral to life on Earth for millions of years. Before trees even existed, fungi dominated the land. Over 400 million years ago, way before even the dinosaurs existed, the landscape was covered in what are known as Prototaxites, giant spire-like structures that could reach up to eight metres in height and stretch a metre wide. These precursors to fungi were the original architects of the biosphere. We are beginning to see that in the modern age, we may be able to harness this ancient technology as the potential backbone of a more sustainable future.

To begin to utilise fungi as an industrial standard, we must stop seeing them as vegetables and think of them more as a form of hardware.

The mushrooms that we see on the surface are merely the reproductive organs of the wider structure. These are solely designed to spread spores via the wind. To mistake the mushroom itself as the fungus is akin to mistaking an apple for a tree. The real organism is the mycelium beneath the earth, the vegetative part of the fungus. This is a dense, root-like network of threads called “hyphae”.

These threads are not merely passive roots intaking nutrients. They are the active constructors, capable of manufacturing a huge array of enzymes which allow the structure as a whole to digest complex organic matter. They effectively disassemble the raw materials of the environment and reassemble them into this dense mycelium structure.

The implications of this mesh network beneath the soil go far beyond simple decomposition. In the forests, mycelium acts as a symbiotic support system. Trees are connected through this “Wood Wide Web”, which allows them to share water and nutrients. The largest, most deeply rooted trees are known as “Mother Trees”. These Mother Trees use the fungal infrastructure to transfer resources to younger trees, which would otherwise struggle in the shade.

Studies have shown that these networks are capable of recognising kin – a Mother Tree may, in fact, be capable of sending more carbon directly to her own seedlings, rather than those unrelated. There is some recent controversy relating to this hypothesis, the risk of anthropomorphising plants potentially leading to inaccuracies. Regardless of this uncertain specificity of action, the fact that the mycelium network is integral to the life of these seemingly separate organisms is not up for debate. The network even facilitates the transmission of chemical warnings between trees if some are threatened by pests, encouraging others to raise their defensive enzymes. This biological internet of immense complexity, this endless connectivity, is what scientists are now hoping to harness.

Mycelium is currently disrupting industries from construction to fashion. Why? The molecular engineering of its cell wall makes it far superior to synthetic polymers. It is a sophisticated natural material constructed from three biochemical elements:

• Chitin: the structural scaffolding is chitin, a long-chain polysaccharide (carbohydrate/sugar) molecule. This provides immense strength and rigidity, and it is in fact the same substance found in the armoured exoskeletons of insects and crustaceans. You could think of it as the equivalent of the steel bar at the centre of reinforced concrete, providing the skeleton to build upon.
• Beta-Glucans: different polysaccharides which cross-link with chitin. They act as a kind of cement for the scaffold, providing flexibility and toughness. The ratio between chitin and beta-glucans largely dictates the final elasticity of the material.
• Hydrophobins: small proteins, which are some of the most powerful known natural surfactants. Surfactants are substances which are capable of lowering the surface tension of water. This allows the hair-like fungal filaments (hyphae) and spores to break through the water's surface and grow into the air. Industrially, this is potentially the most game-changing aspect of fungal biology. Hydrophobins essentially provide natural water resistance and adhesion properties, without the need for synthetic, petrochemical-based coatings.

The physical architecture of mycelium offers a potential blueprint for a new kind of truly regenerative industrial economy. The chemical architecture of fungi offers something perhaps equivalent for the human mind. Just as hyphae can deconstruct and reorganise the physical waste of a forest, certain compounds in fungi appear to be capable of reorganising or reformatting the brain.

To understand why fungi are currently revolutionising psychiatry, we must revisit what is known as the “hard problem” of consciousness. For decades, the human brain was considered a biological machine, effectively a meat computer. Psychological conditions like depression and anxiety were viewed as hardware malfunctions, or “chemical imbalances”. These imbalances would be solved by the application of antidepressants. These substances simply increase the levels of particular neurotransmitters in the brain. “Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors” (SSRIs), one of the most common classes of antidepressants, for example, specifically increase the levels of serotonin. However, this mechanical view of the modern is failing to solve the ongoing mental health crisis.

Enter: Psilocybin.

Modern neuroscience, led by researchers like Dr Robin Carhart-Harris at Imperial College London, has moved away from the chemical imbalance theory. The new paradigm is known as “Predictive Processing”. In this view, the brain is not just a passive receiver of reality; it is a hallucination machine. To conserve energy, the brain generates a predicted model of the world and makes it rigid. In individuals struggling with conditions like depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), this model can effectively become calcified and stuck. The brain becomes trapped in a negative feedback loop, a “ruminative, halting problem”, or a trap. This is where the brain’s Default Mode Network (DMN), which creates and maintains our hallucination of self-identity, is overactive.

Psilocybin acts as an agent of chaos, a disruptor. According to the REBUS model (Relaxed Beliefs Under Psychedelics), the addition of psilocybin into the brain disintegrates its top-down hierarchy. The DMN, the manager/maintainer of the sense of self and reality, is turned off. This is not necessarily an escape from reality, as some might think. It may well be a confrontation with it. By temporarily disabling the DMN, the brain enters a state of what is known as high entropy, or plasticity, meaning its ability to change is dramatically increased. The pattern is broken. Rigid narratives of “I am worthless” or “I am in danger” (depression/anxiety) completely dissolve. This provides a window of opportunity in which the individual has the means to rewire the neural pathways they have been stuck in, often for years.

This mechanism possibly provides evidence of the “reducing valve” described by Aldous Huxley. If the brain functions as a filter to screen and simplify the overwhelming complexity of reality, maybe psilocybin removes it. A trip may not be as simple as a fantasy, but rather removing a block, facilitating the system’s ability to reset.

The pharmacological power of fungi extends far beyond psychoactive effects. While with its countercultural roots, psilocybin may grab the headlines, the “functional mushroom” market is also exploding. Researchers are beginning to isolate many compounds from fungi that promote positive changes in the body, without altering consciousness:

Lion’s Mane (Hericium erinaceus)

Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor)

We cannot forget that the foundation of modern medicine is built upon fungi. In 1928, Alexander Fleming discovered Penicillium, a mould that produced a substance capable of killing bacteria. Penicillin. Penicillin did not just treat infection; it literally doubled human life expectancy. Today, as we tackle the issues with antibiotic-resistant bacteria, researchers are once again turning to fungi. Fungi are forever engaged in a relentless evolutionary arms race with bacteria in the soil. This means they must constantly and consistently produce new chemical weapons to survive. By tapping into this, we may be able to find the next generation of antibiotics before our current stock ceases to be effective.

Humanity is currently navigating a transition from an economy entirely based on petrochemical extraction to a regenerative economy. Currently, for example, we drill for oil to make plastics and raise giant herds of cattle for leather. In a bioeconomy, these materials would be grown, rather than extracted.

This is far from a return to pre-industrial agriculture; however, it is the dawn of a new kind of bio-fabrication. By controlling the growing conditions of mycelium, we can program it to express specific, desired physical characteristics. This will give us the means to replace harmful synthetic materials with biodegradable equivalents which perform just as well, if not better.

The production of these materials generally relies on two distinct methods of fermentation:

Solid-State Fermentation (SSF) aims to mimic nature. Fungi are inoculated into a mould filled with agricultural waste. The mycelium digests this waste and binds it together into a solid composite. This is the method used to create solid construction or packaging materials.

Liquid-Interface Culture (AirMycelium) is a high-tech approach to constructing textiles. The fungus is grown on the surface of a liquid nutrient medium. This allows it to reach up into the air, weaving a dense mat of mycelium tissue without any debris from the substrate. This results in a slab that can be processed into a material similar to leather.

The fashion industry is one of the world’s most polluting sectors. Leather production is particularly prominent. Raising cattle requires inordinate amounts of land, water, and animal feed. The tanning process itself uses toxic chemicals, which have a horrific impact on local water supplies.

Mycelium offers a definitive solution. Companies like MycoWorks and Evocative have developed materials that mimic the structure of traditional animal hide. Unlike synthetic leather equivalents, which are essentially just plastic, fungal leather is breathable, durable, and biodegradable. The production of a single cotton t-shirt takes roughly 2000 litres of water, whereas the mycelium equivalent uses around 11 litres. The difference is staggering. On top of this, a cow takes several years to mature to a point at which it is of use to the textile industry, whereas a sheet of mycelium leather can take literally weeks. All of this, with zero waste and a negative carbon footprint.

Fungi have the power not only change what we wear, but also where we live. “Mycotecture” is the use of fungal composites in building projects. Why use fungi?

Fungal materials are naturally fire-resistant, sound-absorbing, and insulating. Unlike fibreglass, which comes with respiratory risks, or foams like polystyrene, which persist in the environment for centuries, mycelium is non-toxic and fully compostable. If a mycelium brick is discarded, it simply breaks down and feeds the earth beneath it.

Perhaps the most futuristic application of this technology is the convergence of mycology and electronics. A recent study titled “Reactive Fungal Wearable” by researchers at UWE Bristol and the Instituto Italiano di Technologia puts forward the hypothesis that mycelium could replace the components in wearable technology.

The researchers showed that mycelium from oyster mushrooms can perceive external stimuli – light, temperature, and moisture. They are able to transmit this information via electrical spikes, functioning similarly to a sensor on an electronic computer. While fungal reactions are slower than silicon chips, they offer two advantages. They are self-repairing and biodegradable. The wearable technology of the future may not only be “smart” but also alive!

Fungi not only provide hope for building a more sustainable future, but they may also help us to clean up our past messes. The last century of industrialisation has left a brutal, toxic legacy. Our oceans are choked with plastic, soils are contaminated with heavy metals, and landscapes are scarred by oil spills. The traditional solution is to dig it up and move it to a landfill. Essentially, shift the problem elsewhere. Nature, however, works differently. This is the process of “mycoremediation” (the name comes from the Latin “remedium”, meaning “restoring balance”).

Fungi are the earth’s recyclers, which evolved to break down the toughest materials in nature (specifically, hardwood). It turns out that the chemical bonds in wood are structurally similar to the chemical bonds in many manmade pollutants. This includes certain plastics. Because fungi secrete the enzymes to digest their food externally, we can harness them to break down toxic waste.

Maybe the most exciting discovery so far is Pestalotiopsis microspara, a unique fungus from the Amazon rainforest. Students from Yale University discovered that this fungus has the ability to survive on a diet of polyurethane, one of the most common and long-lasting plastics. Remarkably, it can even do this in environments completely devoid of oxygen. This makes it potentially perfect to employ at overflowing landfills, the world over.

The implications of this are potentially huge. Fungal recycling methods could provide the means to break down household plastic waste into organic compost. This would take a matter of weeks, rather than the literal centuries it would take without fungal intervention.

The endless appetite of fungi extends to even the most hostile of environments. In the ruins of the Chernobyl nuclear reactor, scientists discovered “radiotrophic” fungi literally growing on the walls of the reactor. These fungi use melanin, the same pigment which provides our varying skin colours, to capture gamma radiation and use it for growth. While this does not mean the radiation is gone, in the same way as plastic, it does mean it is concentrated in the fungus, and then easy to dispose of safely. These same fungi can be employed in exactly the same way to remove dangerous heavy metals from contaminated soil.

As we look ahead, the distinction between technology and biology appears to blur. For the last two centuries, human progress has been defined by extraction. We dug for coal, drilled for oil, mined for silicon. We took resources from the earth to build civilisation as we know it.

Mycelium may shift our destructive relationship with the rest of the natural world. A fundamental inversion. We are learning that the most advanced technology on earth may well be in the soil beneath us.

Psilocybin can rewire our minds, mycelium can clothe us and build our homes. The chemical properties of certain of these substances can even break down and heal the continuing sins of our industrial society. Maybe in the future, we can finally begin to tap into the open-source intelligence that has been quietly running the planet for the past 400 million years. 

David is one of our community bloggers here at Chemical Collective. If you’re interested in joining our blogging team and getting paid to write about subjects you’re passionate about, please reach out to Sam via email at [email protected]