“Alcoholics Anonymous as Moral Regulation.”

Indeed, I submitted this paper as my “writing sample” to get into a Master’s Program

“The Wisdom to Know the Difference”: Alcoholics Anonymous as Moral Regulation

“God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the

courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the

difference.”

(“The Serenity Prayer”, Alcoholics Anonymous 2001)

Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) enjoys a near total monopoly in the arena of “treatment” for individuals who enjoy the consumption of alcohol too much, despite statistical evidence of its ineffectiveness (Lowney 1999, Fingarette 1988).  This largest of “self-help” organizations, which claims that alcoholism is a disease, but one that can only be remedied by surrendering oneself to a “Higher Power”, reveals itself to be a particularly salient example of a neo-liberal project of moral regulation and individualization, upon examining its development and deconstructing its claims.  Borrowing from the authority of both religion and medicine, AA has created a seemingly untouchable, hegemonic doctrine summarized in the “Twelve Steps” (see Appendix A) to sobriety, which have come to pervade our culture.  A genealogical analysis of the history of AA, following the method described by Foucault, as well as an analysis of its literature and its techniques of recruitment, commitment-generation, and judgment, may allow us to understand the nature of its power and prevalence.

Foucault defines discourse as a particular way of thinking and speaking about some aspect of social life. By deconstructing the historical and rhetorical processes by which social phenomena acquire meaning, he demonstrates that much of what we perceive to be “fact” relies completely upon its social and temporal context, and the production of “Truths” by powerful institutions through practice and the use of language.  The resulting “genealogy” challenges the validity of claims that we take for granted to be correct, and reveals hidden regulatory mechanisms.

A particularly salient method of social and moral regulation, increasing in prominence since the beginning of the 19^th century, is the classification of what is normal, often defined negatively by identifying what is abnormal.  Certain behaviours and modes of existence are normalized and naturalized, while others are problematized and pathologized, to the extent that this process of definition is rendered invisible, giving way to the illusion that current opinions about appropriate and inappropriate conduct reflect objective truth, and that things are as they always have been.  The individual regulates his/her own behaviour, striving to achieve the goal of normalcy, while judging others (Kinsman 1996:92-93).  The frequent consumption of large amounts of alcohol has come to be seen as abnormal, but this has not always been the case.

We take for granted the empirical existence of alcoholism, its status as a disease, and its responsibility for a variety of social disturbances.  However, a genealogical examination of the concept quickly challenges these assumptions.  Before the last few decades of the eighteenth century, alcohol was not at all associated with social problems, and excessive consumption was certainly not classified as a disease.  This was not because drinking was less common; it was in fact more widespread – almost everyone, including children, drank small amounts of liquor with most meals, and frequent celebrations were accompanied by what today would be considered troublesome overindulgence (Levine 1978:109).

As the population of cities grew in size and concentration, new social problems emerged, and old ones became more visible.  The swelling underclass was of particular concern.  Alcohol became an easy scapegoat for the undesirable conditions and events associated with poverty, such as unsightly slums and rioting, as well as disease and illness.  The new campaign warning of the dangerousness of alcohol, which came to be known as the Temperance Movement, was undertaken by members of the economic and political elite, largely as a reaction to the perceived threat of an increasing and “stirring” lower class in close proximity, and it quickly gained popularity moving downwards into the middle classes.  Their message was strengthened as it was backed by “expert knowledge” upon its validation by “Father of American Psychiatry” Dr. Benjamin Rush, who declared that alcohol was physically toxic and morally destructive and addictive, inducing antisocial and criminal behaviour (Fingarette 1988:10).  However, attitudes towards heavy drinkers – newly labeled as “alcoholics” – were for the most part sympathetic and helpful; the “demon” was alcohol, not the alcoholic (Levine 1978:110).

This changed moving into the twentieth century, as capitalism and its accompanying logic and principles, including the responsibilization of the individual, came into full swing.  Society became more class-stratified, as well as more concerned with industry and efficiency.  Working-class leisure, culture, and politics were viewed as a threat to these values, and the success of big business.  The Prohibition Movement, like the Temperance Movement, was initiated by the wealthy (Levine 1978:114).  Its goal was realized in 1919.  Ironically, upon the onset of the Great Depression, many of the same individuals that fought for the illegalization of liquor, including J.D. Rockefeller, ended up fighting for repeal, upon realizing that the vast illegal alcohol market was creating a climate of “lawlessness”, and that much money could be made by taxing alcohol.  Rockefeller’s self-titled “Rockefeller Plan” for the reintroduction of alcohol to the legal market recommended that not the state, but “medical, educational, and religious organizations”, should be responsible for “temperance concerns” (Levine 1978:116).

Less than two years after Prohibition’s 1933 repeal, AA was born, founded by two upper-middle class white men and self-proclaimed drunkards – stockbroker Bill Wilson and medical doctor Robert Smith.  Their “revolutionary” program was based on two fundamental tenets: one, that alcoholics suffer from an incurable medical disease that renders them unable to control their drinking, and two, that only through AA membership and the completion of the “Twelve Steps” may the alcoholic become able to abstain from alcohol and lead a “normal” life (Fox 1999:212).  Whereas the Temperance Movement concentrated on the addicting qualities of alcohol, the emergence of AA marked the completion of the shift of responsibility to the individual body, mind, and soul of the drinker (Levine 1978:116).

The continuing hegemony of AA and the alcoholism-as-disease concept can be traced back to the support AA garnered in the early 1940s, five years after its conception, from a few key actors and institutions.  In 1940, Rockefeller contributed funds to publish the Big Book – AA’s “bible” explaining the Twelve Steps, rife with stories of alcoholics’ moral rebirths through the program – and held a dinner to mark the occasion.  The event drew the attention of national media that would soon make AA a household name (Levine 1978:117).  In the same year, a medical research project on alcoholism at Yale University expanded, becoming the Yale Centre on Alcohol, and publishing its first issue of The Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, edited by E.M. Jellinek, a well-respected biostatistician and research professor (Fingarette 1988:19; Levine 1978:117).  The Centre and Journal endorsed the tenets of AA, giving it the medical stamp of approval to refer to alcoholism as a disease, based on “scientific research”.  Jellinek produced elaborate charts of the “alcoholic career”, and complicated statistical models of the alcoholic’s “loss of control” and subsequent “downward spiral” into a moral vacuum, all the result of a progressive “disease”.  His celebrated publications failed to mention that all of his data was obtained from AA members, who assumedly had already accepted and adopted the organization’s philosophy and analysis of the alcoholic’s life, or that he omitted all data obtained from females from his final results when he found their responses to be anomalous.  Years later, Jellinek himself commented on the limitations of his research, but his comments were ignored (Fingarette 1988:21).  In 1944, one of Jellinek’s colleagues at Yale and an admitted “former drunk”, Marty Mann, founded the National Council on Alcoholism, charged with educating Americans about the disease of alcoholism (Reinarman 2005:313).  It proved to be a great success – exactly one decade later the American Medical Association (AMA) declared that alcoholism was indeed a disease.  The AA model suited the public tendency to desire a simple explanation, a solitary solution, and to distance oneself from the pathological Other, its validity has rarely been questioned.  The suggestion that “alcoholism” and other “addictions” are not discrete phenomenona, but merely labels that have been slapped on myriad social and personal difficulties resulting from the interplay of poorly understood physiological, psychological, social, and cultural factors, is much less appealing (Fingarette 1988:25).

Much evidence rejecting the addiction-as-disease model and demonstrating that addiction has much to do with one’s environment exists, but has been marginalized (Lowney 1999:122).  Examples include Zinberg’s 1984 study of heroin users, finding that “loss of control” was contingent upon social variables; Fingarette’s 1988 demonstration that the DSM addiction criteria of tolerance and withdrawl are not present in many so-called “alcoholics”; and psychologist Bruce Alexander’s 1970s experiments using rats, where when allowed to live in a more spacious and stimulating environment than Skinner’s box, the rodents rejected the option to self-medicate by pressing a morphine-dispensing lever. Within academia, scholars including Alexander testify that journals have refused to publish such contradictory material.  Among the general public, their have been poorly received and have never gained meaningful popularity (Reinarman 2005:309).  Not only are more complex and socially based explanations for addiction unattractive, but they simply cannot compete with the morally-loaded, individualizing depictions of alcohol and drug use propagated by Conservative politicians, and the media’s portrayal of users.  Both of these “authorities” and sources of “expertise” cite drugs as the cause, rather than as a symptom, of social ills.

Meanwhile, AA and its bedfellow, the “treatment” industry, flood the intellectual market with emotionally-charged and sensationally gritty “success stories” – the recent A&E reality television show Intervention is a good example.  Addiction-as-disease rhetoric seems to behave like a virus, infecting the minds of the public such that they start spouting the gospel pro-bono.  AA relies on this sort of advertising, as all “evidence” of its success is anecdotal; the organization does not collect or publish statistics, aside from boasting about the number of groups and members worldwide (Fingarette 1988:88).  Its propagandistic contentions that “AA is the only way” to stop drinking are persuasive.  The automatic response upon hearing about someone who has been drinking excessively seems to be to ask if they have tried “going to meetings”.  In reality, most heavy drinkers do not join AA, most of those who do drop out, and many still manage to cut down on their consumption (Fingarette 1988:89). Given such addenda, criticism is deflected using circular logic (Fox 1999:220).  If the individual drinker refuses to acknowledge the existence of his/her problem in accord with the tenets of the group, he/she is in denial; if the individual stops drinking without attending AA, he/she is said to never have had a problem to begin with.

Yet the most cogent source of AA’s achieved hegemony lies in the way in which its ideology borrows authority from both medicine and religion, to create a potent hybrid.  It takes from medicine the category of disease, supported by the Yale Centre’s sketchy scientific evidence.  It classifies this disease as one of the incurable variety, but offers a method by which the alcoholic’s drinking behaviour may be stopped and his/her associated problems “removed” by accepting the organization’s religious tenets, and surrendering oneself to a “Higher Power” (Alcoholics Anonymous World Services Inc. [AAWS] 2001:5).  AA makes use of two of society’s most powerful institutions, taking virtually inarguable claims to truth from each.  Medicine’s “proof” lies in the supposed objective existence of the disease entity, while religion’s lies in the lack of any evidence disproving “God”. Their combination forms the equivalent of a black hole for any questions about validity.

AA’s focus, like other projects of moral regulation, is the inner identity of the alcoholic (Valverde 1991:130).  It is the alcoholic’s soul and character that is in need of reformation, and changes in his/her outward behaviour will follow (Bloomfield 1994:22).  The psy-ences, namely psychology and psychiatry, strongly support the case for the individual personality as the source of addiction.  “Therapy” is the usual prescription for the modification of such character defects (Fox 1999:212).  However, while all other afflictions diagnosed by psy-experts, such as the personality and mood “disorders”, lead to recommendations for individual or group therapy led by a professional, often in combination with some kind of psychotropic drug therapy, the individual over-consumer of liquor (or drugs not approved of by a medical practitioner) is nearly always referred to AA.  In Winnipeg, all but one public treatment program available for drinkers and druggers interested in getting clean and sober demand the attendance of at least two AA meetings each week, refusing service to anyone who fails to do so.  Individuals arrested for offenses considered to be alcohol- or drug-related are also given an ultimatum: AA attendance or jail.  Private addictions treatment facilities throughout North America also almost exclusively follow the AA model, often incorporating arguably cruel and unusual adaptations of the twelve steps; for example, Edgewood, a private in-patient facility in British Columbia, requires that subjects transcribe the eighty-five worst things that they have done in their lives in a single sitting, a particularly extreme interpretation of Step Four’s “Moral Inventory”, albeit surely an effective one.  Privatized rehabilitation has become a huge industry since the days of Bill and Robert, and relies on the legitimacy borrowed from AA.  Some researchers have even proposed the concept of a “drug-abuse industrial complex”, in which AA is an important accomplice (Fox 1999:218).  An examination of AA meetings and literature reveals the method by which the organization, like other self-help projects, seeks to produce docile, self-regulating individuals (Rimke 2000).

A typical AA meeting follows a very rigid structure.  The group leader calls the meeting to order, and offers a short prayer or meditation, which is followed by a period of silence for reflection.  Next any sobriety “birthdays” are announced and applauded, often accompanied by the handing out of different coloured tokens for lengths of time sober.  The discussion period begins with the reading aloud of a passage from the Big Book, followed by attendees’ classic “…and I’m an alcoholic” introductions and comments on how their own lives match the excerpt.  AA prides itself on the rule of “no cross-talk” during the discussion period (Hoffmann 2006:681), but if a newer member says something at odds with the AA doctrine, a more senior member will often point out his/her mistake at the end of the discussion (Kitchin 2002:759).  The overwhelming message it that all alcoholics are alike in their common disease and their responsibility for the choice to either drink or to attend meetings.  Some variations on meetings include some which consist only of taking turns reading aloud from the Big Book, and the marking of a special occasion with a longer account from one of the more senior group members, of the trials and tribulations of life as an alcoholic, ending of course with redemption via AA.  The meeting closes with the repetition of the Serenity Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, and the phrase “Keep coming back, it works!”  Meeting attendance is purported to be absolutely crucial to staying sober, and it is not uncommon for a member to attend a meeting everyday.

Some scholars that have studied AA, including Trice and Roman (1970:544), have argued that success with the group requires certain personality traits – including a tendency towards guilt, sensitivity to responsibility, and a willingness to abandon one’s own framework for everyday life in order to accept that of the group.  Like a cult, AA offers understanding and removal from social isolation in trade for absolute rules by which to live: mandatory meeting attendance, and those which are outlined in the Big Book (Alexander and Rollins 1984:45).

Now in its fourth edition, the Big Book is still nearly identical to the original printed in 1940.  It begins with the story of Bill W., a veteran of World War I who turns to liquor when he finds himself having trouble adjusting to life back at home in New England.  He searches for meaning in the riches of the stock market in the 1920s and, disappointed, finds himself reaching for the bottle more and more often.  Luckily, he discovers the magical key to solving his problem, proclaiming that his ability to stop drinking “was only a matter of being willing to believe in a Power greater than myself” (AAWS 2001:12).  In messianic fashion, Bill W. takes upon himself the task of carrying this message to other alcoholics.  The following chapters detail the Twelve Steps that he compiled with Dr. Robert Smith, preaching throughout the binary choices available to the alcoholic: drunken misery, or AA’s version of “spirituality” along with meeting attendance.

The first step requires one to admit “powerlessness” over alcohol; the Book explains that this is due to the fact that the alcoholic suffers from “a progressive illness” and that he is “bodily and mentally different” from those who are able to drink without feeling compelled to get “wasted” (AAWS 2001:30).  There is no cure for the disease – “once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic” (AAWS 2001:33) – but abstinence is possible through “the program”.

One then encounters two kinds of testimonials that appear again and again throughout the text.  The first is that of the archetypal alcoholic: a successful businessman with a wife and family, often a War veteran, who is well liked and intelligent, but cannot control his drinking.  The second comes from “doctors and psychiatrists”, anonymous of course, but described ambiguously as “respected” and/or purported to hold a high-status position in the medical community.  Both the lay(middle-class, white, heterosexual…)man and physician agree that alcoholism is a disease, and that it can only be “conquered” (AAWS 2001:44) spiritually.

Step Two, as well as a number of the testimonials that punctuate the rest of the Book, use the term “sanity”.  The alcoholic’s decision to have a drink, in spite of knowing that one drink often leads to twenty more, is defined as “insane”.  Interestingly, this particular framing of notions of sanity/insanity revives the abandoned, early 19^th century concept of “moral insanity”, without the direct usage of the word “moral”.  This concept, coined by Dr. J.C. Prichard in 1835, referred to a condition, or in his words, “a form of mental derangement” (1835), in which an individual’s intellectual faculties are unaffected, but a disorder is manifested in “the state of feelings, temper, or habits …the moral principles of the mind…are depraved or perverted, the power of self-government is lost or greatly impaired, and the individual is…incapable…of conducting himself with decency and propriety in the business of life.” (Prichard 1835:6)  It is not a coincidence that this “disorder” emerged at the beginning of the capitalist era, as the individual became more and more responsiblized for his/her fate, success or failure being traced to one’s conduct and character, and indeed one’s own choices.  The idea of “bad judgment” was born.  Each member of society came to be expected to embody the ideal of the Cartesian subject – a perfectly rational being, and one that makes “good choices”.  The choice to consume alcohol, despite the fact that it may hinder one’s efficiency at work or encroach upon the stability of one’s nuclear family, defies that expectation, and is thus “insane” – morally insane, for as the book emphasizes, the alcoholic is most often intelligent and quick-witted.  The solution – conducting a “moral inventory” and reconciling oneself with “God” – is the topic of the next several Steps.

The Big Book states that the alcoholic’s key problem is “selfishness – self-centeredness”, and that “our troubles are basically of our own making.  They arise out of ourselves.” (AAWS 2001:62)  The moral inventory requires the construction of a life-history, followed by confession.

A crucial component of AA is the establishment of the member’s alcoholic identity, accomplished largely by the construction of a life-history that conforms to the AA model.  The process mirrors that outlined by many scholars concerned with topics at one time grouped under the category of “deviance”, including Goffman (1961) and Foucault (1977), who describe the mental patient’s “case history” and the criminal’s “delinquent life-history”, respectively.  The individual’s entire life is recounted, while an appropriate expert highlights all events that correspond with the newly assigned identity – that of a madman, a criminal, or in this case, an alcoholic – and dismisses those that do not.  The Moral Inventory differs in that the individual him/herself is largely responsible for its construction, by transcribing a list of all of the “immoral” things he/she has done in the past, and whenever possible, indicating how they have been alcohol-related.  In line with Goffman and Foucault’s observations, positive behaviour and events are omitted from the life-history.  Furthermore, one’s past is made out to be incoherent and senseless before the discovery of AA, and the fact that the alcoholic brought their condition upon themselves is always a focus (Thune 1977:77).

“Experts” may assist with the construction of the inventory, remembering that the experts of AA are not doctors or lawyers, but other more senior members of AA, “lay-experts”, so to speak, relying of course on the “knowledge” of other, fabled alcoholics incanted in the Big Book.  The new recruit is most often paired with a “sponsor”, a senior member well-versed in the AA doctrine that serves as a tutor of sorts, aiding with the process often referred to as “mortification” by which the individual’s former conception of self is traded for a new one that reflects the values of the group (Donovan 1984:415; Rudy and Griel 1989:48).  Mortification relies on the vulnerability created by the arousal of feelings of guilt and shame; in the total institution, for example the asylum or the prison, mortification is often achieved through exercises in humiliation led by institutional staff.  As AA operates without the benefit of containment, the ignominy generated in constructing the Inventory must be particularly potent.  One source of strength is the ritual of confession.

Step Five requires that upon completion of the Inventory, one must dictate it to “another human being”, as well as “God”.  In addition, meetings may be seen as a kind of ceremony of public confession, as members take turns speaking to the group of drunken anecdotes, highlights from the life-history.  The rather ironic idea that telling another person, traditionally a more powerful person, of “the exact nature of one’s wrongs”, will result in liberation is an old one which we can see manifested in a variety of forms throughout history – God has almost always been implicated as well.  Scholars on the topic posit that confession is never merely an act of expression, but is an act of constructing and remaking the subject (Lowney 1999).  Thus, in the context of AA, the confession reinforces not only shame, but also the new, alcoholic identity, as it is reflected through the looking-glass of one’s sponsor and the group.

The Big Book not only provides wisdom for governing the self, but also for dealing with others, or perhaps more appropriately, for not dealing with others.  It advises that when one finds oneself in a situation or interaction that arouses negative emotions, one should exercise absolute passivity, and replace action with prayer.  It extends the medical model to anyone that the alcoholic has trouble getting along with, stating that “our enemies are sick people” (AAWS 2001:68) that will only get “well” if they, on their own, come to know “God”.  In adopting this submissive outlook, the Book states, one will “become much more efficient” (AAWS 2001:88).

Many researchers have published work on AA’s use of religion, and have debated whether or not it is a “religious organization”, coming to several different conclusions.  Some argue that it is absolutely religious, the Big Book serving as a kind of bible, while others prefer to call it “quasi-religious”, arguing that it uses religious elements in the process of identity transformation, the latter being more crucial than the former (Rudy and Griel 1989:48).  Some insist, quite firmly, that the organization is a cult, and present some convincing evidence (Alexander and Rollins 1984, Bufe 1991).  Others have avoided confronting the issue and discounted its role, citing AA’s own claim that one’s “Higher Power” can be anyone or anything, and that the group is perfectly appropriate for agnostics, and even atheists (Valverde 1999, Purcell 1998, Bloomfield 1994).  It is this last category of claims that I wish briefly to address.

It is curious that one can agree with them after reading AA literature.  Although it insists that “God” is open to infinite interpretations, “He” is referred to as “The Father of Light”, the “Creator”, the “Maker”, and “The One who has all power” (AAWS 2001:44-58).  The Big Book uses language clearly borrowed from Christianity, including statements about the alcoholic being “reborn”, and phrases like “Thy will be done” and “may you find Him now!”, in addition to recommending that one should ask a “priest, minister, or rabbi” for reading material (AAWS 2001:87).  It seems a Muslim or Buddhist or Hindi individual would find AA’s definition of “God” and use of religious parables problematic, never mind an agnostic or atheist.  The book proclaims that the rejection of “God” implies that “life originated out of nothing, means nothing, and proceeds nowhere” (AAWS 2001:49).  It asks “Who are you to say there is no God?…Is it possible that all the religious people I’ve known are wrong?” (AAWS 2001:56), and answers its own question, declaring that only “God” may restore the alcoholic’s sanity.  As stated previously, meetings end with the recitation of the “Lord’s Prayer”, a practice long removed from public schools because of its failure to respect diversity of belief, and unbelief, thus violating constitutional rights.  If AA was only one of many “treatment” options for heavy drinkers, if judges did not order mandatory attendance of meetings, if prisoners were not required to participate in AA to avoid lengthened sentences – its employment of Christian rhetoric and ritual would not be an issue; but this is not the case.  Forcing individuals to join AA is not only oppressive, but essentially unconstitutional (Reed 1990).

The critical scholarship on AA and the alcoholism-as-disease concept of the 1970s and 1980s has for the most part been replaced by descriptive literature about the organizational structure of the group and meetings (Hoffmann 2006; Seabright 1996; Valverde 1999; Zohar 1997).  In many cases, there is in fact a distinct reluctance to criticize AA (Hoffmann 2006, Bloomfield 1994), which is quite alarming considering the proliferation of the Twelve Steps in today’s culture.  A few feminist scholars form an important exception – concentrating largely on the experiences of marginalized individuals, they draw attention to several of the organization’s negative and indeed harmful characteristics, including the aforementioned contribution to a “drug-abuse industrial complex”, as well as sexism, and anti-intellectualism (Hall 1994, Fox 1999, Kitchin 2002).  These topics deserve much more investigation, beyond the scope of this paper.

The prevalence of monotheistic overtones in AA literature is matched, if not exceeded, by strikingly sexist dialogue.  It is surprising that more research on AA doesn’t discuss this, as it is so blatant and so consistent.  The Big Book focuses exclusively on the experiences of (upper-) middle class white men, “great guys” with wives, kids, and money.  It is rife with war metaphors, and donates a large part of one chapter to deliberation regarding whether or not Steps Eight and Nine, concerned with “making amends”, necessitate telling one’s wife about extramarital relations with “the girl who understands”, finally determining, “not always” (AAWS 2001:81).  The use of language in all of AA’s official publications appears to assume that its audience is exclusively male, white, and somewhat wealthy, to the point where it seems quite bizarre that the model has not just been extended to women and members of all socio-economic and ethnic backgrounds, but has become the hegemonic standard for anyone voluntarily seeking, or involuntarily forced into, substance abuse treatment.

Focusing on the plight of lesbians and members of an online AA newsgroup, respectively, Hall (1994) and Kitchen (2002) reveal some of the long silenced complaints of AA attendees.  Both sample populations expressed frustration with the intense individualization of one’s problems and dismissal of even the notion of social structural problems leading to substance use; varying degrees of exclusion and rejection perceived to be a result of being a lesbian, woman, or racial minority; the rampant Christian jargon; and the discouragement of independent thought paired with the encouragement of “surrender” and “powerlessness”.  This is an interesting point – AA not only recommends less action, but also less thought.  A popular line within the organization states that “no one is too dumb for AA, but there have been people who are too smart for AA”.  Often quoted jokingly, the phrase reflects a disturbing reality – the promotion of anti-intellectualism.  Slogans such as “utilize, don’t analyze” and “my best thinking got me here” reflect a climate of anti-intellectualism, advising against thoughtful contemplation about one’s circumstances (Kitchin 2002:761).  Aside from the fact that any institution which explicitly tries to curb independent thought is at best suspect of having something to hide, and at worst outright fascist, these propositions reflect a frightening trend in our society at large towards less and less critical examination of our world.  Again, the extension of AA philosophy to myriad “problems of living” mitigates the scope of potential damage.

AA ideology has invaded popular discourse, extending its “cure” via the Twelve Steps to over-spenders, over-eaters, under-eaters, and “women who love too much”, among others (Fox 1999:220).  The message is that compulsive and problematic behaviour may be attributed to, and only to, the flawed individual, who is consequently entirely responsible for his/her own “recovery”.  Never mind a culture where we are bombarded with images of malnourished models alongside fast-food advertisements – it is the individual who is sick in his/her susceptibility to such assaults on the senses.  Examples such as these make obvious why thought is discouraged in the interest of institutional survival.  The possibility for social change is stopped dead in its tracks as the individual’s frustration is turned inwards.

Returning to the case of liquor, AA distracts both the individual drinker, and the society that watches and judges him/her, from the fact that the feeling of wanting to be constantly intoxicated can almost always be traced to social conditions – a negative reality that makes one want to “blur” it.  AA belongs to a host of institutions and organizations that imbibe the neo-liberal premise that the individual is solely responsible for his/her own fate.  Its blending of the medical addiction-as-disease model with religious tenets have made it quite resistant to criticism.  Projects such as this one may slowly challenge its hegemony by unearthing its history and deconstructing its claims.
Appendix A

The Twelve Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

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