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Jun 08, 2011 05:28

On June 7, 1983, near the end of my life, I stumbled through the back door of a storefront in a Fort Worth strip mall. I tried to appear inconspicuous as I helped myself to a cup of coffee, but didn't notice the carafe was still filling. The hiss of hot java hitting the hotplate immediately identified me as a newbie. A burly grey-haired guy with cigar in his teeth stuck out a meaty paw and said, "Hi. I’m George." He poured me half a cup of coffee - I was shaking too much to hold a full cup - and guided me to a seat in the front row. He then walked behind a podium at the front of the room "My name's George,“ he announced, "and I'm an alcoholic."

After a few nights, I asked George to be my sponsor. He asked me about my religion, about how I defined God. I described the concept of God I'd grown up with. "Do you think he'll keep you sober?" he asked. Frankly, no, I didn't. My God was a god of judgement, a Heavenly Hit-Man.

"You better fire the sumbitch," advised George. "Fire the sumbitch and find you some higher power whose number one goal is keeping you away from a drink today. It don’t matter what it is, so long as it helps you.”

Even in Fort Worth, the gaudy gold buckle on the Texas Bible Belt, that's the way AA used to work. It wasn't a religion. Sure, God was mentioned, but it was “God as we understood him". There were people whose higher power was the meeting itself, G.O.D., Group Of Drunks. People who got a little too preachy during their time at the podium were counseled by older members to tone it down. "We don't come here to save our souls," said George. "We come here to save our asses."

I pretty much stopped going to AA after a few years of regular attendance. Some old-timers stick around forever, but I hit the point where I just didn't fit in anymore. I was one of the lucky ones - I haven't found it necessary to pick up a drink since that night twenty-eight years ago. But I apparently missed the rise of Evangelical AA.

AA has always been quasi-religious. It was based on the Oxford Groups, a revivalist movement begun by Lutheran pastor Frank Buchman. The Oxford Groups died out in the 1940s, but many of their principles, such as self-examination and making amends, found their way into AA.

Nevertheless, I was surprised to hear that there are schisms occurring. Most recently groups in Toronto that tried to tone down the Christian aspects of AA have been "de-listed" from the big meeting catalog maintained by AA Central Services. Since meetings don't otherwise advertise, the only way to find them is via the Central Service list. Delisted groups are effectively out of business.

What seems to have happened is that AA has been co-opted by evangelicals. It's probably not intentional; it's a product of the growth of evangelical Christianity in America and the Faith-Based initiatives of President Bush. AA is now regarded as the single most effective treatment for alcoholism by clergy, the criminal justice system and the private treatment industry. It is a victim of its own success

The trouble is (my own anecdotal evidence notwithstanding), so far as anyone can tell, it really isn't very effective. AA is faith-based, not evidence based, and there aren't very many good studies of its success rate. In part, this is because no one takes attendance and everyone is supposed to be anonymous. However, AA's own studies show that 81% drop out after a month; 95% don't make it a full year.

The more religiously dogmatic it becomes, the less effective the program will be. Even now, it seems to have polarized people into the camps of believers and heretics. The quaint and outmoded language of the Big Book sounds increasingly close to a liturgical text, not a handbook for recovery. AA likes to claim that atheists and agnostics also get sober in the program, but nowadays you'd be hard pressed to find one in the hall. People like my first sponsor George would probably be anathematized.

Maybe it's time to fire the sumbitches.

Originally posted by bill_sheehan, here.
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