By Steve F.

The following is a response to an online essay by a Cliff B. that decries the current state of AA, online here.

I write as someone who hasn’t drank for 25 years, who spent the second through 15th of those years with no meetings, steps, sponsor, etc., and who has been profoundly annoyed by the ‘group therapy’ meetings Cliff B. rails against, as well as by the “Big Book Thumpers” who remind me of the worst sort of religious fundamentalists in their fear of change and deification of “Old Timers.” Like Cliff B., I often think AA would be better off if people would just do it my way, which of course I’m sure is the right way. I also feel outrage and pity at those poor souls who are too new age, or too old-fashioned, too modern or too dogmatic, to grasp the true beauty of AA. In other words, I’m a typical arrogant, easily ruffled, self-righteous alcoholic.

Just like Cliff B.

His premise–that AA is not as effective as it used to be, that there’s a much higher dropout rate now and a lower success rate, that meetings are folding more rapidly than ever–is fundamentally flawed. “Flawed” is actually a polite word. It’s more accurate to say that it’s meaningless propaganda. I spent the better part of a year researching the “success rates” of AA, moderation management, rational recovery and other recovery organizations. The fact is, there are no up-to-date statistics about recovery from alcoholism that carry any significance at all–especially regarding AA, an organization that is based on anonymity and that steadfastly refuses to keep records regarding who comes, goes, stays, etc. There are also no reliable figures regarding size of meetings. As for the official AA position on recovery programs that don’t involve the 12 Steps, or even abstinence, there is none.

If anecdotal evidence suggests that less people who come to AA stay than they did 30, or 40, or 50 years ago, I would say–even if it’s true, which it might not be–that the trend might be due to AA being more successful, rather than less. My impression is that when AA was first founded, only the most hopeless drunks showed up. Now, as the letter writer mentions, there are people with higher bottoms attending AA meetings, people who might not feel they’re alcoholics, people who attend out of some vague dissatisfaction with their lives (as well as a desire to stop drinking) rather than a desperate and I’ll-do-anything need to stop. It makes sense that more of those people will drop out of AA. Would it be better to limit AA membership to only real drunks, or to drunks who demonstrated willingness and remorse sufficient to impress zealots like the letter writer? I think not. I like the “the only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking” part of the literature. I believe deeply in it. I also believe that one of the most attractive and profound strains of thought in AA literature and tradition is the one that warns against self-righteousness and taking others’ inventory, and that urges us to look within when we feel vexed.

Beliefs like those expressed by Cliff B., and the ones similarly expressed at some meetings I’ve attended, represent another part of AA literature and tradition–a fundamentalism, that, like any fundamentalism, is built on a few deeply held principles.

These are the principles:

•  The old ways are best.

•  Modernization is not only wrong, it’s dangerous to the organization.

•  The people who practice the old ways are the true believers, and those who adopt modern customs, thoughts and insights and incorporate them into the belief system are misguided, and not only that, but they are threats to the organization itself.

• The founders were not only wise, they are much wiser than anyone who might modernize, alter, or try to improve the system the founders originated.

There’s no doubt that such fundamentalism–whether in Islam, Christianity, Judiasm or AA–provides nurturing and support to many people, and that it saves lives and provides structure to people who desperately need and crave structure. I’m grateful and happy there are such AA groups in New York, where I live, as well as in other parts of the country and–I presume–the world.

But I also cherish the AA tradition that talks about each group being autonomous, and the tradition that says there is but one authority in each group, which is god as he expresses himself in the group consciousness. I am delighted to belong to a fellowship of men and women who are often annoyed at one another, who squabble over length of shares, how chairs are set up, and what prayers should be uttered, but who still try to help each other stay sober. I’m happy there is room in AA for people like the letter writer, who can’t stand the newfangled “group therapy” creeping into the fellowship, who thinks treatment centers weaken AA, who sees the idea of 90 meetings in 90 days as a grave menace, as well as for people like me, who are irritated no end by people like the letter writer, and by individuals and groups who seem to think only they know the one true path to recovery.

For people who want to only attend AA meetings where newcomers are told to stay silent, where only those who work the steps are welcome, where (it seems to me) bullying is the preferred method of helping others, I’m grateful that there are plenty of those meetings to attend. I’m also grateful that there are meetings where steps are treated as “suggestions,” as the big books says, where newcomers are not only allowed but encouraged to discuss their feelings, and where the love expressed to the newly sober is more gentle.

“Do you want to be a part of the problem,” Cliff B. thunders, “or a part of the solution? Simple, but not easy, a price has to be paid.”

That kind of language usually makes me nervous, filled as it is with judgment and righteous anger and an unshakeable certainty about exactly who is a problem, and who is not.

But as objectionable as I find such sentiments, I have deep faith that AA as an institution is wonderfully equipped to handle them, and the people who believe in them.

“A program of attraction not promotion,” is just part of AA’s brilliant foundation. “All you need to start an AA meeting is a resentment and pot of coffee,” is another bit of wonderful wisdom I’ve heard in the rooms. Another is, “if a bunch of drunks are in one room trying to help each other stay sober, it doesn’t really matter what they say, God is there.” And finally, “if you don’t have resentments against AA, you’re not going to enough meetings.”

That’s the language of the AA I love–tolerant, gentle, accepting. A fellowship with plenty of room for Cliff B., me, big book thumpers, agnostics, the sponsored, the sponsorless and anyone else with a desire to stop drinking.

Steve is an award-winning journalist.

(Note: Below video has a NSFW moment…)