For years, the kratom industry in America has presented itself as a loose coalition of small businesses, consumer advocates, and scientists working toward responsible regulation and harm reduction. The plant, chewed or smoked or turned into a tea, is said to have “opioid-like properties” and “stimulant-like effects.” Moreover, it has been used to get people off opioids themselves, with a recent competitor compound, 7-OH, becoming increasingly popular due to it being “significantly more potent than morphine at pain relief.” 

Searching for 7-OH online provides pages and pages of alarmist headlines, with federal regulators pushing for its classification as a controlled substance in the summer of 2025.

Internal emails, public records, and leaked documents reviewed by this publication tell a fascinating story, however, of an internecine industry fight that appears more concerned with profit motives than with consumer choice or patient care.

IN BRIEF.

Over the past eighteen months, a coordinated campaign has emerged. But the effort did not originate with new safety data or a sudden public health emergency. It originated with market pressure.

As 7-OH products gained popularity among consumers for their consistency and predictable effects, legacy kratom manufacturers began losing ground. Retailers shifted shelf space. Customers followed. Industry insiders describe severe revenue losses in specific product categories, in some cases enough to threaten entire business lines.

Rather than compete directly, industry leaders pursued a different approach. They turned to regulators.

THE FDA MEETING.

In January 2025, a group of scientists and consultants was invited to participate in an informational meeting with the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Emails show the meeting was not initiated by FDA scientists, but requested and organized by Sheldon Bradshaw, a former FDA Chief Counsel now serving as regulatory counsel to kratom-aligned interests.

Bradshaw’s stated purpose was explicit. In emails circulated ahead of the meeting, he wrote that the goal was to educate FDA regulatory enforcement officials, rather than scientists, about the dangers of 7-OH and to push the agency to remove 7-OH products from the U.S. market.

The agenda reflected that objective. It was not limited to chemistry or pharmacology. It included a segment devoted to highlighting alleged criminal histories of individuals associated with 7-OH products. The meeting was scheduled with FDA enforcement lawyers and criminal investigators, not with scientific review staff. Indeed, several invited scientists declined to attend.

Johns Hopkins pharmacologist Kirsten Smith cited a lack of transparency about who was organizing the meeting and said she was uncomfortable being asked to discuss criminality as a scientist. Ohio State and Harvard professor Edward Boyer declined as well, writing that removing 7-OH would conveniently preserve market share for kratom vendors and warning that participation could damage his credibility. University of Florida professor Oliver Grundmann withdrew, citing conflicts related to ongoing litigation.

Others did attend, including University of Florida medicinal chemist Dr. Christopher McCurdy and consultant Paula Brown. Brown acknowledged in emails that she had asked Bradshaw to organize the meeting specifically to reach FDA enforcement officials.

By the time the meeting took place, its purpose was clear. This was not a neutral scientific consultation. It was an enforcement strategy.

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA’S ROLE.

As internal industry disputes unfolded, public records requests began to reveal the importance of a single academic institution.

Emails and documents obtained from the University of Florida show that UF, and McCurdy’s lab in particular, had become a central reference point for kratom policy discussions. McCurdy communicated directly with both FDA and DEA officials. His research was repeatedly cited in regulatory materials. His views appeared to shape how federal agencies discussed risk, synthesis, and scheduling.

In August 2025, McCurdy emailed a DEA official, noting that he had been invited to attend an announcement recommending that 7-OH be placed into Schedule I. He requested guidance on obtaining a Schedule I research license in advance, even though the substance had not been scheduled heretofore.

The concentration of influence is notable. One laboratory, and specifically one researcher, advised industry groups, corresponded with regulators, and produced the scientific literature used to justify enforcement decisions.

This created a dependency, with Federal agencies coming to rely on a single authority whose work intersected directly with industry objectives.

HOW THE DATA WAS PRODUCED.

The most consequential evidence is revealed in a brief email chain from February 2025.

Malaysia restricts the export of kratom plant material to recognized research institutions. Private companies and trade groups are not legally entitled to receive it. Emails indicate that the Global Kratom Coalition required Malaysian kratom material to achieve specific regulatory objectives, including arguments related to the status of Old Dietary Ingredients and contributions to an American Herbal Pharmacopoeia monograph.

Because the industry could not legally receive the material, the University of Florida agreed to act as the recipient.

Emails show UF would accept the shipment, perform herbarium documentation, DNA barcoding, and alkaloid analysis, and that McCurdy expected the industry group to reimburse the university for the work.

The arrangement allowed industry-directed research to enter the regulatory system under the banner of academic independence. Regulators later treated data generated at UF as neutral, university-produced science.

Industry defined the objective. The university executed the work. Regulators relied on the output.

THE NARRATIVE SHIFT.

With enforcement channels established, public messaging followed. That’s why, if you Google any of this, there’s just a cavalcade of negative, industry-sponsored information with little evidence to back it up.

Media stories began framing 7-OH as a “dangerous” synthetic drug. Isolated incidents were amplified into broader warnings. Claims circulated about contaminated products and criminal supply chains, despite the absence of validated toxicology tying those events to 7-OH.

The timing coincided with state enforcement actions and proposed legislative changes. The goal was urgency. Pressure regulators to act quickly, before deeper scrutiny could take place.

WHAT THE RECORD REALLY SHOWS.

The research does not indicate an organic public health response. It shows a structured campaign.

Industry leaders faced market disruption. Political operatives translated commercial concerns into regulatory language. Academic institutions provided credibility. Regulators acted on data shaped upstream by private interests.

Whether 7-OH ultimately warrants regulation is a legitimate question, and that isn’t up for debate. Like anything in this space, the safety of the consumer should take precedence over any business interest or profit motive. But the process documented here did not answer questions through open scientific inquiry.

The outcome was decided first. The machinery followed.