More from Gerrards Cross

“….... attended Gerrards Cross and Beaconsfield - got involved with some of the recovered people who run Harefield meeting. They read the old style preamble from the book - we are 100 members who have recovered etc. They read suggestions from printed cards and at the end of the meeting the voluntary sponsors stand up and if you are a newcomer they allocate you a temporary sponsor who you can call or they call you. I don't know what they do. I've been twice never went back. If it was my first AA meeting I would never have gone back. There about 6 of them claim they've done the steps and recovered. They don't take any notice of people like me but I was surprised at the promotion of AA and the urgency to take newcomers through the steps. If you can get to step 9 you have recovered in 6 weeks then you can sponsor newcomers and take them through the steps. Never seen anything like it. I did the program in my own time in my own way. Took 4 years to do step 5 but I did it. …... Looks suspect to me like the Jeremy Kyle [trashy voyeuristic TV] show. Most newcomers come to have a look at AA - I did - then they come back when they're ready. Poor Andrea was being picked up by car and being taken to AA by a well meaning member trying to help. I knew her 3 years. I never got involved. Just let her sit and listen. i would never tell anyone to do anything. It's up to someone to decide if they want recovery and to get well - not to have AA pushed in their face. I've been trying to get my sister in AA for 20:years -  she won't have it. I leave her alone. She knows where the help is if she wants it …. Talking to a drinking alcoholic is a waste of time. Better in meetings talking to someone who wants help anyway. I was sat next to Andrea on the Friday - she jumped under a train on the Saturday 8 Oct 2011 nearly 2 years ago. Someone's wife, someone's mother. Tragic. Very attractive woman. That's what alkies do. Drink themselves to death or kill themselves. I've seen so many 'Andreas'. Knew a bloke in '85. Hung himself in a police cell. I had been working with him the entire week. He went to AA for 4/5years. Never could stop drinking. I've seen so many jump under trains in sobriety - no one knows why - and take overdoses. I wanted to kill myself when i was 4 years sober. I got through it. Never drank. Got well but it is a day at a time …... I believe …. that AA is full of nutters some good some bad all trying to be helpful when you stop drinking. You have to survive AA. Don't drink go to meetings. I don't buy this recovered nonsense. That's just inexperience. …. Part of the illness is thinking you are well and everyone else is sick. Used to be a book around when I came in by Hazelden called 'dry drunk syndrome'. Describes in detail sickness in recovery - grandiose behaviour - thinking you can get someone to stop drinking - get them to recover and do a recovery programme. Looks like this is what these cult meetings are all about to me. You can't promote AA. People have to decide for themselves. Step 1 - I am powerless over other people. Let them be. Leave them alone. No one in AA has ever told me to do anything - that's why I stayed. It would be nice to be able to get someone to stop drinking but I am not god. …. I stay away from these strange meetings. Just well meaning people trying to help. Won't work with alkies  thanks …...” 
 
(minor edits)
 
Comment: The road to hell is paved with good intentions!
 
Cheerio
 
The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

Sociological Factors in Association with Alcoholics Anonymous

“The affiliates seemed to be behaving toward themselves on the basis of reference points that defined problem sharing as a desirable practice. In turn, these reference points meshed harmoniously with the group reference points of A.A. One of the prominent norms of the group is intimate sponsorship, "telling one's story," and "getting it off your chest." A large part of A.A. therapy lies in the emotion-sharing group discussions that precede and follow more formal meetings. Since the non-affiliates were not characterized by self conceptions that dovetailed with these group norms, it seems logical to conclude that the absence of these conceptions constituted a barrier to affiliation. Those having self-perceptions similar to A.A. norms, however, affiliated.”

“There appears to be an attraction to a group when the conceptions of self held by the individual coincide with the norms of that group. When these two do not coincide, it seems likely that attraction will be lowered. Every group structure provides definitions of action for its members, through its role expectations. Each individual personality develops a conception of himself that is, in part, a reflection of the role-expectations assigned in many groupings. If there is a consistency between the self-conceptions that a person brings to a group and the role expectations of that specific group, attraction is promoted. This is demonstrated by the high rate of affiliation among those alcoholics who had a conception of themselves that dovetailed with the expectations of A.A. membership, and the low rate among those who did not.”

Source: Sociological Factors in Association with Alcoholics Anonymous, Trice HM, Journal Criminal Law and Criminology, Vol.48, 378- 386, 1957

See also Links and downloads

Conference Questions (2013) forum discussion (contd)

Committee No. 2

Question 1:

Share experience on getting articles on AA in the local press and make suggestions on how the Fellowship can get articles into the national press.

Background

1. Members are having some success on getting articles on AA in their local newspapers
2. The Fellowship has not succeeded so far in getting articles on AA in the national press.

[See also: The Traditions, Preamble and Concepts]

Extracts:

“ I think it is important that individual AA members and groups recognise that AA public relations have always been sensitive and need careful consideration. There needs to an authority in AA public relations. One of the reasons the Washingtonian movement collapsed was because there was no effective public relations policy or authority.

“…If there is no authority how can they have any public relations policy at all? That's the very defect which ruined the Washingtonian alcoholics a hundred years ago. They mushroomed to 100,000 members, then collapsed. No effective policy or authority. Quarreled among themselves, so finally got a black eye with the public. Aren't these A.A.s just the same kind of drunks, the same kind of anarchists? How can they expect to succeed where the Washingtonians failed?" Good questions, these. Have we the answers?....” ( Extract, ‘Rules’ Dangerous but Unity Vital by Bill W. The Language of the Heart p 7-8. AA Grapevine September 1945)

"The Washingtonians were confident. . . they scorned old methods." (Too cocksure, maybe. Couldn't learn from others and became competitive, instead of cooperative, with other organizations in their field.)” (Bill W. Extract,“Modesty One Plank For Good Public Relations” The Language of the Heart p 5. AA Grapevine August 1945)

Before undertaking local Public information work I think individuals and groups ought to read the A.A. Service Handbook for Great Britain, section 17 Public Information, and PI guidelines and work within AA traditions and Concepts. Any article written for a local paper ought to be in the style of providing information, rather than promotion. Concept XI, Public Information Committee section, though directed at board level, also gives good advice for anyone involved in PI locally. The section in the concept ends with “It is a critical assignment; a single large public blunder could cost many lives and much suffering because it would turn new prospects away. Conversely, every real public relations success brings alcoholics in our direction.”

Individuals and groups need to recognise that local AA public relations work such as writing an article for a local newspaper is a matter which could concern the welfare of surrounding groups and AA as a whole, and it needs to be carried out with respect to the principle of Tradition Four/ Tradition Four (long form).

“…But when its plans concern the welfare of neighbouring groups also, these groups ought to be consulted.’ Obviously, if any individual, group, intergroup, or regional committee could take an action that might seriously affect the welfare of Alcoholics Anonymous as a whole or seriously disturb surrounding groups, that would not be liberty at all. It would be sheer license; it would be anarchy, not democracy. Therefore, we AAs have universally adopted the principle of consultation. This means that if a single AA group wishes to take any action that might affect surrounding groups, it consults them. Or, it confers with the intergroup committee for the area, if there be one. Likewise, if a group or regional committee wishes to take any action that might affect AA as a whole, it consults the trustees of the Alcoholic Foundation, who are, in effect, our overall general service committee. For instance, no group or intergroup could feel free to initiate, without consultation, any publicity that might affect AA as a whole. Nor could it assume to represent the whole of Alcoholics Anonymous by printing and distributing anything purporting to be AA standard literature.” (“Tradition Four” Bill W. A.A. Grapevine March 1948, Language of the Heart p 81).

The Intergroup public Information liaison officer provides the authority for local AA public relations which is delegated to the service position within Tradition Two and The Twelve Concepts for World Service. Individuals and AA group leaders need to recognise that the Intergroup PI liaison Officer ought to be consulted before public information work is carried out by individuals and groups. Tradition Four states “Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or A.A. as a whole.” This Tradition cannot be broken in two to make “Each group should be autonomous.” With Regard to local AA public relations activity, such as the content of a proposed article for a local newspaper, or other PI work, the intergroup public liaison officer has a qualified ultimate authority over an individual AA group for final decision. This authority is granted to the service position in the Twelve Concepts for World Service; it needs to be respected by individuals, groups and their GSRs. ”

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

See also AA Minority Report 2013

Yet another visitation from …. “The Reluctant Messiah”!

You cannot imagine our joy when we perused the aacultwatch forum this morning for our once daily inspection. Oh delight surpassing all delights! Verily have we been blessed with yet ANOTHER visitation from the all-knowing, (and probably all-singing, all dancing) “Reluctant Messiah”. Every now and then this gem of recovery pops up in the forum to bless us with his insightful pronouncements on anything and everything to do with the recovery programme. Truly he is a font of all knowledge! Here is the very paragon of virtue, dedicated beyond imagining to carrying the message to all and sundry (willing or otherwise!), indefatigable in his endeavours, unyielding in his ….. blah di blah di blah .. you get the idea! The title “The Reluctant Messiah” says it all (incidentally a self-appointed role and not one of our little creations!). Clearly the 'Second Coming' has decided its his personal responsibility to save us from ourselves. The problem is you see … we're all DOING IT WRONG! And guess what? He's NOT. Unfortunately, however, it would seem that he's not in his usual top form at the moment (cries of horror, hand wringing all round). Instead of the usual profundities he has resorted to personal invective (of the playground kind). Finger pointing, nose-thumbing, sticking out of tongue etc... all have been deployed on this occasion to carry the ONE TRUE AA message. Can you imagine our chagrin to observe such a fall from grace! Oh woe are we to witness such depravity! Still none of us are perfect … ARE WE? So we trust and pray that our very own forum sage will be back in form when he visits us again – a couple of months perhaps! Don't leave it so long next time! And get well …..SOON!

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous .. and IRONY)

PS Sundays are always a bit of a slow day … sorrrryyyy!

AA Cults I Have Known

Does this all sound a bit familiar to you? Sure does to us!

Source: An article (reproduced in full) by Benjamin Aldo (pseudonym) appearing in The Fix (online magazine)

"AA Cults I Have Known 

Alcoholics Anonymous has long been vulnerable to a creeping fundamentalism with cult-like tendencies. One longtime member recounts his brushes with some pernicious corruptions of the fellowship.

A couple of years ago I went to the Atlantic Group in New York. It was springtime, and the moneyed Upper East Side was in full bloom. The AA meeting, known as AG, was holding its anniversary party. The large Christ Church on Park Avenue had members milling about in its courtyard, sipping the Starbucks coffee the group serves, a few smoking on the sidewalk. The men wore suits and ties. Inside, a beaming young woman offered me a name tag, and wished me luck in finding a seat. I knew the meeting was well attended, but the church was overflowing with members.

AG is well known in New York AA. Depending on who’s talking, it either represents “Real Recovery” or an off-putting, overly rigid interpretation of AA doctrine. AG members have strongly worded suggestions about sobriety: You should have a sponsor who has a sponsor who has gone through the 12 Steps with another AG member; when you speak at any AA meeting you should wear a suit and tie or the female equivalent; the use of anti-depressants is discouraged; and the use of profanity is not allowed during qualifications.

"It’s the difference between rape and sex. It’s technically the same, but the spirit of it is the difference between hell and heaven."

This big Tuesday night meeting is the social centerpiece of the AG way of life. It is structured with several minutes of introductory comments and news about the group from enthusiastic members standing at the altar, before the hundreds of members in pews. Then two newer members get up and share their stories of recovery for 15 minutes. And then comes the keynote speaker—vetted before the event—most usually a member practiced in entertaining large crowds. Afterwards there is a prayer, and a formal line-up to thank the three speakers for their service. Recordings of the speakers are available for purchase.

 

AG began in 1992 as an offshoot of the Pacific Group in Brentwood, California, which was founded by AA legend Clancy I., who got sober in 1958. Members of the Pacific Group often refer to PG as “the single biggest weekly AA meeting in the world”—a tellingly dubious claim, given that there are over 114,000 AA meetings worldwide.

PG has a reputation like that of AG, only more so. Adherents insist theirs is the only true path of recovery, and demean “AA lite”—groups that focus merely on drinking stories and complaints. Those who are uncomfortable with PG point to the insularity of the group, the rejection of AA members lacking enthusiasm for PG rules, and the notion of “better than” sobriety. As one regular AA member said, “If sobriety is grace, and grace is an undeserved gift, how can I be arrogant about this gift of sobriety?”

Another member had a harsher take. “It’s the difference between rape and sex. It’s technically the same, but the spirit of it is the difference between hell and heaven.”

Every year, to celebrate their anniversary, AG invites Clancy to speak at their meeting, hence the enormous crowd. On this evening, he told a story very familiar to AAs from the many tapes and conventions he has spoken at over the decades. He was entertaining, pausing for laughs and dramatic punctuation.

Midway, he used the word “goddamit.” A young man piped up from the balcony to say, “Excuse me Sir, we have no profanity at this meeting.” It was clear he was attempting a teasing tone. It was also clear he had misjudged the room. The enormous hall froze, not unlike in an abusive household when a child calls out their cruel father.

At that moment, as I fiddled with my name tag, I thought it would be a great chance to see long-term, revered sobriety in action. How would the man whose AA tapes had helped me stay sober 20 years earlier gracefully handle this interruption.

In the event, there was no empathy for the psychology of the newly sober young man. Instead, Clancy played to the crowd. He expertly waited a few beats of pin-dropping silence, then leaned in to the microphone and said, “Shut up Bitch.”

And then, hundreds of sober men and women burst into laughter. Some applauded, as if they were watching Louis CK take down a heckler. The young man turned bright red, and awkwardly raced out of the church. Of the several hundred attendees—many of whom claim to be “recovered” from alcoholism, and that their most important action each day is to “carry the message to the alcoholic who still suffers”—not one followed the young man outside. Instead, they turned their attention to Clancy and lapped up the rest of his honed speech, in which he assured the room that their brand of sobriety was more solid, more real and more lasting than any other.

 

Cults have leaders, deprive you of worldly goods, cut you off from family and friends, and demand an absolute devotion to their precepts. AG and PG only have the first and last of these attributes. But both the cult of personality—the near deification of Clancy and a handful of pretenders to the throne—and the insistence on one "true path" of sobriety are 12th-Step work at its worst, causing vulnerable men and women to be forever turned off the low-key, profoundly helpful AA meetings in the majority.

 

The Atlantic Group did not exist when I first got sober, but Clancy's moment of righteous wrongness reminded me of the beginning of my first AA meeting, which was held in the same district courtroom where I had been arraigned for attempted murder.

 

The banners with the Steps and Traditions were hanging on either side of the judge’s chair, which was occupied by my new probation officer. He was also the PO for the 30 other men scattered about the courtroom. Some of us were leaving the state prison system and transitioning back to society, while others were avoiding time in the county jail.

The PO, William Nagle, did most of the talking, speaking in the second person. He talked a little about his own drinking, and how he figured out a way to stop, and was now sober 20 years. He introduced a speaker who had been through his program; the man talked about his drug use, his jail time and how Nagle had saved his life. Despite it being called an AA meeting, there was no mention of AA, of the Steps or of recovery. The message was, “Once we were tough guys, doing bad things, now we are tough guys doing good things.”

We attended this meeting four times a week. On the judge’s bench, where the gavel had come down sentencing us to this program, was a sign that said, “The Honor Court is a privilege, not a punishment.”

Aside from the four meetings, we lived on the top floor of a flophouse on Main Street, and on my first day, after I signed my welfare check over, I was given $20 and told to buy some work clothes at the Salvation Army. We slept in a large room with a dozen bunk beds, and the days started at 5am, sweeping the streets or shoveling snow in winter, hauling trash, cleaning parks and delivering meals to shut-ins. On Sundays, we held a car wash in the parking lot of the same courthouse.

I raised my hand and shared that the meetings outside seemed different. I was immediately cut off: “That’s because those people are all faggots who never drank for real!"

Though Bill would scream at me every day, calling me an “ingrate” because of my scowl and lack of street-sweeping abilities, I quickly got used to the routine. It was summertime, and being outside doing manual labor with a bunch of thugs was a good distraction. We could all chain-smoke while we worked. Bill massaged the system so that an old DUI I had from Boston was thrown out, and the DMV arranged for a new driver’s license—my first in two years—so that I could be one of his drivers.

When anyone was defiant, they would be reminded that they could be sent directly to jail to serve out their sentences. A couple of members chose to return to jail, saying it was a better life inside, but I felt pretty lucky. Soon, 30 days had gone by, and for the first time in a decade I was a month clean and sober—at least physically.

I was 22 at the time, and the most depressing part of the program, other than being screamed at and having 1,000 hours of community service to work off, was the “AA” meetings. I assumed this was the way all AA and NA meetings were—a man who knew better than everyone raving about our transgressions, insisting that we become better and repeating that the only way to stop was to do what he said.

One day, a newer member invited me to a local AA meeting. We sat in a musty, smoky old basement, surrounded by people laughing and joking, smoking and hugging. Then everyone quieted down and a man stood up at a podium. He was very light in his delivery, and the room laughed easily. Then a young woman told her long, involved drinking story.

As we left early, to meet our house curfew, a man said he hoped we’d come back again. The difference from what I was used to was like night and day. Nobody yelled—and sobriety looked like it might be enjoyable.

At the next courtroom meeting, I raised my hand and shared that the meetings outside seemed different. I was immediately cut off by Bill, who screamed, “That’s because those people are all faggots who never drank for real! Next.”

The next day, between sweeping the streets and loading up the trucks to clear out the park, I sat smoking with two of the older members. One of them had the tattoo on his inner arm from a concentration camp, the other, in his 50s, was clearly mentally ill. I asked them how long they had been with Honor Court. Neither could quite remember. They said they had been homeless, and that Bill had saved their life. I asked when they would be leaving. They asked me, "Where would we go?"

I asked my lawyer how many of my thousand hours of community service had been paid off in the last month. I was called into Bill’s office (another sign on his desk said, “When I want your opinion I’ll give it to you”) and screamed at again.

“You think you’re better than anyone here, you’re not, you’re worse. By our count you’ve worked nine hours in the last four weeks. You’re not going anywhere.” I called my lawyer again, and after some negotiations, during which I was threatened with both serving my suspended sentence and extra time for a host of offenses, I was assigned a new PO and allowed to do the balance of my community service elsewhere.

It was clearly a shady operation—the welfare checks cashed right over to Nagle, the convenience of the town having clean streets and parks without paying salaries, the direct transfer of prisoners into the program, the institution of trusties and newbies, the casual threats of violence and jail time for non compliance and mainly the fact that the program was run by a very serious dry drunk who never let a day pass without screaming obscenities to at least one member of the crew.

The organization had nothing to do with AA beyond the use of the name to justify its existence to the court system (a parallel to the practice of court-mandated AA attendance). The entire entity rested on the character quirks of a man who had very real power over all of us. If that wasn’t a cult, it was certainly a cult of personality. This was borne out when Nagle died, and the organization crumbled very quickly, steeped in corruption and scandal, his legacy an office full of dodgy paperwork, court house connections without his pushy spirit, city contracts lacking his aggression and 30 men who were both disturbing and intimidating, on a good day, strolling the town’s streets with heavy brooms. 

The creep element of Honor Court was out for all the town to see: scowling convicts pushing brooms and pulling weeds. But later cults of personality I experienced were more pernicious still, thanks to their veneer of civility.

In 1990, I found a meeting on the King's Road in West London. I sat in the front row, and listened to a young man who announced there was no point in talking about his drinking because it was the program of recovery that mattered. It was essentially a lecture about the Steps, but the room lapped it up, and the shares all confirmed that his talk had been “brilliant.” I wondered about the efficiency of spirituality without context, but I was glad to be at a meeting.

Afterwards, an older man approached and introduced himself as David. He asked why I looked so miserable, appointed himself my sponsor and told me that I should stick with his AA group: The Joys of Recovery. He then told me if I did six things every day for 30 days—prayed, called him, read the Big Book etc.—he guaranteed me perfect happiness. He gave me a meeting list, circling some recommended meetings, and starring a few others that I should “avoid like the plague.”

There was an appeal in the smug superiority, the thought that I had gained access to AA's VIP room.

I followed his lead. At first the meetings seemed upbeat, friendly and very clear. They were also repetitive—the same people were repeatedly called on to share, who said that their drinking and early AA experience had been hopeless, but then they found The Joys of Recovery and life was wonderful. There was not a hint of struggle or complaint, and the occasional adversity was always framed with gratitude for the challenge. David and his acolytes uttered the same phrases at every meeting: “I never had a bad day since I stopped drinking,” and “Misery is optional.”

Soon, I noticed a focus on how the message was not being carried correctly away from Joys, how there was “light sobriety” and “real sobriety,” and how we needed to go out to regular AA meetings to "carry the message" to those in mainstream AA.

Another strongly worded suggestion was to avoid psychiatry and anti-depressants—“alcohol in solid form,” as David intoned.

I was still relatively new at the time, so there was an appeal in the smug superiority, the thought that I'd gained access to AA's VIP room, the shared certainty that this was the true path. I felt included and better-than—if not everyone else—then at least my former self. I couldn’t wait to go home and tell my sponsor how the program really worked.

David, I was soon impressed to learn, had founded Joys. He remained its genial godfather. He sponsored many members, who sponsored many others, and so on. His method of sponsoring consisted of sponsees calling him every day, and being told to pray and call him the next day. He insisted that life was "marvelous."

One evening, after yet another joyous Joys meeting, I sat at the coffee shop with David and half a dozen acolytes, and asked David, innocently, who his sponsor was. The table went very quiet. David explained that he'd had a very capable sponsor who had died—and that he had been set on the path and had all of us, his sponsees, to guide him. I didn’t have the presence of mind to point out that David himself always insisted that not having a sponsor meant that you were not really sober in AA. I was struck, though, at how all of us accepted his quickly-made point.

That evening David took me aside and told me it was time to work the Steps with him. I had known him for three weeks at this point. I had been taken through the Steps already, but he insisted that he could tell I needed more extensive step-work. He urged me to attend to it immediately, handing me an addendum he'd written on how to do the work properly. He suggested that I concentrate on the third part of the Fourth-Step inventory, where we examine our sex lives.

We met in David’s small flat, and he had me read a few pages, stopping me with pointed questions. He wanted to know mechanics: what I was most excited by, what my girlfriend liked, how often we had sex. I answered some of his questions, wondering why he was so interested. Then I suddenly realized that I was a 22-year-old man, being asked intrusive questions about my sex life by a 60-something-year-old stranger. In his home.

He may as well have been licking his lips and rubbing his palms together, as he interrupted me to offer more questions—not advice or suggestions or even, God forbid, his own experience, which it dawned on me extended to masturbatory voyeurism with the newly sober. I told him I was uncomfortable and that his motives were disturbing. He smiled a smile I'd seen before, and told me that my sobriety was in jeopardy if I didn’t marry my girlfriend and proceed to have children.

I started to object and he raised his hand. “I’ve forgotten more about AA than you will ever know,” he started to scream. “You know how lucky you are that I’m even talking to you! Your relationship with this girl is not sober.” And that was the end of that.

Later, at more reasonable meetings around London, it transpired that David and the Joys were well known. I went directly to all of the meetings David had told me were “sick.” Many stories were told: One member was cautioned to never share about her attempted suicide; another was told to put the equivalent of $20 in the basket; sponsees were urged to “vote with their sponsor,” at business meetings about AA policy.

One meeting in particular, the Monday night Pont Street Group (tucked behind Harrods), was filled with glamor and beauty all united by powerlessness. The meeting was also infested with Joys people—including David in his customary back-row chair. The Joys people would be called on to express their opinion of how AA should be, condemning the majority of the room for their failings. 

I asked one non-Joys regular why their behavior was tolerated: He told me they were harmless and needed help—and that in AA desperation gets us sober, but tolerance keeps us sober. “We might not be allowed to share in their meetings, but they are free to share in ours," he said. "You can tell they’re in pain, and if they ever want help, we can provide it.” So that was what being sober looked like. 

David died, and The Joys of Recovery became so shrouded in controversy that they changed their name (A Vision For You, The Big Book Study Group), and have migrated into Detroit and Ireland, though the Irish General Service Office of AA considered that off-shoot to be outside the structure of AA.

When I moved to New York 20 years ago, I knew just enough to stick to regular meetings. I heard about local versions of Joys, but they conveniently stayed in their own cocoons of self-congratulation—occasionally venturing out to speak in the second person and distribute complex step-work charts, amid curious claims of doing all 12 Steps every morning. As the years went by, most people in AA seemed to treat them like an anomaly—a cult-lite, if you will. 

One day, I happened upon a meeting called The Big Book Study Group. The meeting calls for a moderator—rather than a speaker—who shares their specific experience of going through the book with their sponsor. Three highlighter pens are used to denote sections that confuse, are agreeable and are disagreeable.

The meeting begins with the reading of a prayer, taped into the first page of the book. It is not an AA conference-approved prayer, and it calls for the suspension of judgment for the process of the group. The moderator then goes through each line in the book, offering explanations of the hidden meanings. If you ask one of these devotees to sponsor you, they will say they are "not a coffee-shop sponsor,” and that unless you are serious about your recovery, they will not be able to help you. I asked someone what the hell was going on, and they told me this was the Atlantic Group. They had migrated. 

As well as the Pacific Group, AG is linked to the abusive Midtown Group. Members now sit among us at more regular AA meetings. They have many tell-tale signs. One is that they call themselves “recovered alcoholics,” referring to the first hundred members of AA who described themselves as such, and forgetting that of those hundred at least 70 died drunk. When they speak at a meeting they always say, “My sponsor has a sponsor who has a sponsor who took him through the Steps as laid out in the Big Book.” They speak of being “God-powered,” of being “an alcoholic of the hopeless and doomed variety,” as if there were any other kind. They openly sneer at the oldest of AA notions—"Just don't drink and go to meetings,"—though for many alcoholics, myself included, that is often all that a newcomer can focus on. They use the phrase, “You’re not really sober if...“ and talk of being “transformed.” (Cue their nickname: “The Transformers.")

The ironies of these groups are legion. I’ve noticed one larger-than-usual cluster of members who came in after a season of drinking, at the age of 13 or 14. Nothing wrong with that, but being now “oldtimers” in their early 30s, they tend to lack empathy or experience for people who drank for years, missing the sense of fellowship that founded and informs all of AA. This false sense of a hierarchy lends itself to a patronizing charity on the part of sponsors, rather than the very spirit of the 12th Step—to keep our sobriety, we have to give it (our experience, strength and hope) away. In their faux-tough-guy, undeserved harshness "recovered" mentality there is a lack of the very kindness that first attracted me to AA. 

But there’s not a single person I’ve met in AA in 35 years who has the right to tell anyone what to do

Then there is that underlined, quoted and revered Big Book containing dozens of AA stories, the first qualifications in AA. Every story maintains a similar blueprint: an extensive history of drinking, followed by a brief happy ending. Not a single story in the four editions of the Big Book begins with the oft-expressed sentiment that "a drunkalogue is not worth your time, so let's just get on with the recovery." Neither do the stories laboriously recount step-work. So it follows that not one of those first hundred “recovered” members—nor any other Big Book contributor—would be vetted to speak at AG. The book contradicts the Transformers' central point.

Then there's the methodology—a repetition of homilies, a close reading of that book, and a strong suggestion, at times insistence, not to seek outside counsel, especially involving psychiatry or medications. One of Clancy's well-worn anecdotes is: "Yeah, I saw a shrink for a while. Every Wednesday night for years. He came to our meeting. Boy was he a mess." Cue laugh track.

More chronic alcoholics I have known have been attracted to AG's certainty, only to be disappointed by the robotic mantras and sponsors who offer assignments, rather than listen. One friend suggested it was because his sponsor lacked the ability to empathize with his experience as an alcoholic. How many alcoholics in need have turned up at these meetings, assumed this was the way AA meetings are really held, and walked away only to drink again? How much anti-12th-Step work has the Atlantic Group managed in the last two decades? For all the shock-tactic provenance-lacking statistics about AA (one in nine members stay sober, etc.), that's a number we can never know.

In sum, the Atlantic Group is as close to actual AA as the Honor Court or the Joys of Recovery. Indeed, it's referred to so much as "AG," that it seems divorced from the acronym it insists it has perfected.

But what position does AA's General Service Office take? Like a timid wife in an abusive household, the GSO invoke the Fourth Tradition whenever a complaint reaches them: "Each group is autonomous," they intone—not addressing the second clause of the tradition: "...except in matters affecting AA as a whole."

It may seem innocuous, especially to those who don’t rely on AA. But the real problem with these groups is that while they claim a monopoly on an excellence of sobriety—my powerlessness is better than yours—they are not technically AA meetings. They break most of the traditions (One, Two, Five, Eight, 10, 11 and 12—another article unto itself). They convolute the Steps. They make up their own prayers and they shred three of the AA Concepts (One, Five and 12).

I asked one AA member, who contributed a story to the most recent edition of the Big Book, why he always recounts his extensive drinking history when he speaks. He reminded me of what Bill wrote about our dynamic: “When one alcoholic has planted in the mind of another the true nature of his malady, he will never be the same again.”

He also reminded me of the reason that real AA worked for me—after antabuse, rehab, psychiatric hospital, jail, counselors and DUI class all failed. “I tell you what I do to stay sober. I suggest you do the same. But there’s not a single person I’ve met in AA in 35 years who has the right to tell anyone what to do. All we can do is tell you what we do.”

And that’s the difference. The better-than, slicked up, professional AA practice reminds me of all those professionals whose job it was to try to help me when I was desperate, with their clip-boards and quotas, legal threats and health warnings, their superficial concerns and patronizing smugness.

The creepiness of this approach came to an inevitable point in 2007, when the Washington Post and Newsweek reported on the Midtown Group—the Washington DC AA group led by Michael Quinones. According to police reports and press interviews, Quinones was a grand-sponsor who strongly discouraged members from seeking psychiatric help or taking anti-depressants. They did, however, encourage underage female members to sleep with middle-aged male members, including Quinones. The group was also known as The Q Group, after their leader. After the allegations came to light, several of the churches hosting their meetings ended their arrangements. It was a shocking story of sexual predation.

 

A remark from the man who sponsored Quinones was telling. According to the Washington Post, Clancy Imislund, managing director of Midnight Mission in LA, spoke directly about the situation. “There probably have been some excesses,” he said, “but they have helped more sober alcoholics in Washington than any other group by far.” Note that last jab at other AA meetings, and the shrug about what, in his state, would be legally considered statutory rape.

 

He continued, “It had been an issue [the sexual exploitation of teenage girls] but wherever you have a lot of young, neurotic people, they’re going to cling to each other.” Note the fault of those “young, neurotic people,” also known as newcomers seeking experience, strength and hope.

That Clancy, of course, is the same man who told a trembling newcomer at that packed AG meeting to “Shut up, Bitch.”

Amid all this ugliness, superiority and ego gratification, it’s helpful to return to AA’s history, the implementation of the traditions and concepts to ward off such aberrations of AA and to bear in mind that the founders, while very much human, knew what they were doing.

The last time Bill Wilson visited Dr. Bob, before he died, Bob’s final words to him were, “Let’s not louse this thing up. Let’s keep it simple.””

Related articles: 

Invasion of the Big Book Body Snatchers

Cult Culture and the 12 Steps

AA's Culture Clash: NYC vs. LA

The Dark Legacy of a Rehab Cult

Let's Stick to the Book in AA

Comment: None needed!

Cheers

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

PS Our thanks to the member who helpfully pointed us in the direction of this article

aacultwatch forum

Extracts from our forum: http://forums.delphiforums.com/aacultwatch under thread: “aacultwatch forum daily reflections ”

“Then at certain great turning points of our history, we have, in anger or sheer indifference, backed away from what should have been clearly visible responsibilities. Disastrous results were on a few occasions barely averted. Old-timers can recall that the book Alcoholics Anonymous might never have been printed because some avowed that we did not need it, while others shrank from the risks of preparing that invaluable text. There was a great outcry against formation of the General Service Conference of Alcoholics Anonymous, that indispensable body of Delegates which today links our Society with the AA Trustees of our World Services. There was almost no belief that such a linkage could be effectively forged; even an attempt at such a project would ruin us, many thought. In consequence, this utterly vital undertaking nearly fell by the wayside from the sheer burden of indifference, heavy attack and little faith.

Yet, in God's time, our spiritual assets have invariably come to exceed even such large liabilities. AA recovery goes forward on a large scale. Practice of AA's Twelve Traditions has amazingly cemented our unity. Our Intergroup Associations and our World Service Conference have made possible a wide spreading of our message, at home and abroad. Our pains and our necessities first called us reluctantly to responsibility. But in the latter years, a joyous willingness and a confident faith have more and more permeated all the affairs of our Fellowship.

Despite this happy transcendence of the difficulties of yesterday and of today, we nevertheless deeply realize that our negative traits are still with us, and always will be. Therefore our constant responsibility should be that of taking a fearless inventory of our defects as we go along, the better to undertake their mending.” -  Bill W. (Extract, “Responsibility Is Our Theme” AA Grapevine July 1965, The Language of the Heart p.330)”

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

The show must go on and on and ….....

We recently came across an article (AA's Culture Clash: NYC vs. LA) in The Fix (an online magazine of variable content and moreover extremely variable quality!) which gave an account of one chap's transition from New York AA 'culture' to that of LA. Briefly:

“..... was only one of many differences I was to encounter between New York AA and its Los Angeles counterpart. You’d think with all the traffic between the two cities, there would be some uniformity in the meetings. That was not the case. Los Angeles, I came to see—perhaps suffering from a second-city complex, or maybe reflecting it’s own unique showbiz personality—had developed its own take on AA.

For starters, LA meetings are held in strange places. In New York, meetings are pretty much held in churches, conference rooms or schools. These official-seeming locations lend a certain gravity to New York meetings. In LA meetings are held on fishing piers, in the back yards of yoga studios and in underground parking garages.

The format of New York meetings is fairly consistent: A speaker tells their story for 20 minutes, followed by sharing from the floor. In LA, every meeting has its own format: Sometimes there are two speakers, sometimes there are three; sometimes the speaker reads, sometimes he or she answers questions. Sometimes there are free-rolling, debate-style conversations, sometimes there is no participation at all. Occasionally everything stops for a meditation. Or a coffee break. Or for further announcements (there are lots of announcements in LA). In many meetings the speakers are recorded so you can listen to it later in your car. In LA, you get the feeling that each new meeting feels obligated to add some new spin on the traditional format.

There are more private meetings in LA, held in people’s private homes. This is presumably to protect celebrities, film executives and CAA agents from having to mix with the common people. There are also larger “cool-people” meetings that are open to the public but not listed in meeting books. You find out about these meetings by word of mouth, like you would find out about an exclusive nightclub. And like a nightclub, once there, you feel instantly self-conscious because everyone is younger than you and much better looking.

Perhaps the most jarring difference between the two cities’ meeting styles is the way people decide who should speak. In New York, the object is to have everyone who regularly attends a meeting speak at some point, the idea being that even the least articulate person from your group might have some unexpected nugget of wisdom to share. Also, if nothing else, everyone should hear each other’s story, and thereby have a basic knowledge of their fellows.

But in LA, chair-people are more concerned with entertainment value—also with speakers carrying an “appropriate” message. This creates an inevitable reliance on circuit speakers and AA “stars.” The idea of putting someone unproven, or unknown, at the podium is frowned upon. Nobody wants to sit through amateur hour. In one way this is good: There are fewer dull meetings. But in another way, you could be sober in LA for several years and never speak at a meeting. Which is not good.

Another source of tension between the two cities is the idea LA people have that New York AA is “therapy-based”. Meaning that New York people talk about themselves too much. It’s too character-driven. It’s too personal.

In LA, they consider their program to be “solution-based.” In LA, members who talk about personal issues are told: “Your problems are for your sponsor; your solutions are for the meeting.” Which sounds good, but unfortunately results in the repetition of the same slogans and truisms everyone’s already heard a million times. In New York, especially in early sobriety, I found it helpful to hear the specifics of people’s problems and how they dealt with them. I found it interesting.

But in a way this difference makes sense. Individual predicaments, individuality in general, is not as valued in LA—a city dominated by the film and TV industries, where teamwork and consensus rule the day. In New York, the land of cranky eccentrics, novelists, artists, etc., a certain self-involvement is to be expected.”

(our emphases)

Comment: When reading this a section of the Big Book came almost instantly to mind. From The Doctor's Opinion:

“Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices. The message which can interest and hold these alcoholic people must have depth and weight. In nearly all cases, their ideals must be grounded in a power greater than themselves, if they are to re-create their lives.”

It would seem that the New York 'style' of presentation is far more in keeping with this sentiment than the gloss - and all too frequently dross - presented at the LA 'show biz' meetings. Consistency, egalitarianism, credibility, veracity, gravity all seem to characterise the New York 'culture' with their opposites predominating in the LA “cool-people” meetings. Unfortunately the author loses his nerve towards the end of of his disquisition and attempts to reconcile the two contrasting approaches via the usual device of presenting AA as something of a 'broad church' (if you'll forgive the 'religious' analogy). Of course that would be fine if it were simply a matter of appealing to varying tastes. But the LA model lends itself far more easily to abuse of the narcissistic kind (a 'virtue' which we suspect is rampant in the City of Angels) with all the (sometimes) serious consequences which follow from this. New York, on the other hand, with its more - dare we say - traditional egalitarian emphasis, is far less likely to fall prey to this kind of folly and excess. For our part we'll forego the 'bread and circuses' approach and opt for the weightier substance of those rather “dull”, “amateur” meetings so beloved of our New York brethren. After all, if you want 'slapstick' you can always switch on the TV. There's plenty of 'entertainment' to be had here - and at the flick of a button!

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous .. and of 'amateurs' everywhere!)

The Washingtonian Movement

“INTRODUCTION

Certain similarities between the Washingtonian movement of the nineteenth century and the present day fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous have been commented upon by a number of observers. In view of this resemblance there is more than historical interest in an account of the first movement in the United States which brought about a large-scale rehabilitation of alcoholics. The phenomenal rise and spread of the Washingtonian movement throughout the land in the early 1940's was the occasion of much discussion, exciting a deep interest. The cause of its equally rapid decline have been a subject of much speculation and are still of concern to the members of Alcoholics Anonymous who may wonder whether or not their movement is destined to a similar fate. This article, therefore, will present not merely a description and history of the movement but also an analysis of the similarities and differences between the Washingtonians and Alcoholics Anonymous.”

(our emphasis)

Source: The Washingtonian Movement, Maxwell MA, Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, Vol.11, 410-452, 1950

See also Links and downloads

PS For AA Minority Report 2013 click here

Harefield Hospital

Some info recently received:

“By the way the latest item you have on your site about Harefield resonates with a few experiences I have had. Apparently there is a cult meeting that meets in Harefield Hospital. I'm not sure what bunch of loonies they are connected with, but they are big book mentalists with no regard to the traditions or the rest of AA. I heard a chair from one of them recently and all he did was slag off the rest of the fellowship. Some narcissist up in that neck of the woods was his sponsor. The meeting meets in a hospital and they are telling newcomers not to take medication....?. Hmmm I think the hospital should be informed. “

Comment: We can find no listing for any meeting held directly in the hospital although there are two meetings included in the online AA Where to Find which are located nearby. ie. Harefield Sunday and Harefield There is a Solution Friday

Cheers

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

PS Our usual thanks to our correspondents

And so the weirdness continues …..

Well you're definitely not going to believe this! We don't! And if you think we're that gullible then think again! 'chew think we were born yesterday! Come off it! You're 'avin a laugh ain't 'cha! Still they said “keep an open mind” .. so 'ere goes!

The word is (well several words as it happens) there's a whole new 'spin' been given to the recovery programme. Now mentioning no names (as if we'd ever!) but a certain 'guru' (a member of the “happy, joyous and free” brigade and ardent advocate of the “do as your sponsor tells you” approach so beloved of control freaks everywhere!) who hangs about the Kingston/Richmond area - South west London intergroup - what is it about south west London that attracts so many nutters? Firstly Happy Dennis, then Billy the Kid, and now introducing ….. drum roll … The Sprinkling Vicar! Tah rah! So what's the low down on this programme innovator. Well apparently the 'tom-toms' tell us that he can be found almost nightly (and sometimes daily) at AA meetings entertaining the troops with his latest offerings. Clearly the guy puts an enormous amount of effort into his 'sermons' delivered as they are with an almost professional aplomb, the result no doubt of frequent repetition both in front of an audience and we suspect, no less, the bathroom mirror! As a consequence he has gained something of a reputation for being 'spiritual' whatever that means! Well so far nothing really of great moment we hear you say! But wait! By day (and sometimes by night for all we know) he transforms himself into ….... the 'Sprinkling Vicar'! Hallelujah! Not content, or so it would seem, with saving the 'heathen' (that's you and us by the way!) in the conventional fashion our 'spiritual entrepreneur' has opened up a whole new franchise based (or so we're told) on a tome entitled 'A Course in Miracles' (yet another rehash derived from yet another 'divine' revelation!)! Our intrepid 'spiritual healer' has been known to conduct private ceremonies of 'cleansing and forgiveness' for the chosen few. These seem to consist mostly of women newcomers in whom he has discerned (no doubt in some mystical fashion) some kind of urgent need to have water sprinkled over them. Apparently this 'baptism' (yes .. we're quite familiar with the symbolism)i is conducted behind closed doors and whilst the subjects are lain prone (or is it supine?) upon the floor! Well you could have knocked us over with a …... modest sized paperweight! “Never!”, we gasped as we struggled to come to terms with this radical concept. Eagerly we rushed to the book case to consult the Big Book (or the AA 'bible' as it's regarded in some dogmatic quarters). It must have slipped our minds! How could we have missed that section about getting a thorough 'sprinkling'? This was a mystery we could not abide! We MUST have an answer!! In vain we flicked through the tome searching desperately for this unquestionably essential part of the recovery programme. Well if not in the Big Book then surely the 12 and 12? But again our efforts led us ….. absolutely nowhere! Suddenly there came a moment of inspiration! We'll use our well thumbed Big Book concordance! Surely this will hold the answer we so urgently seek! Plugging in the word 'sprinkling' we discovered in a matter of moments …. absolutely nothing - “sprinkled” yes but “sprinkling” .. no! How could we be so blind! How was it that we so failed to see? Again we turned to the Book but this time praying for that moment of intuition. And then it appeared as if in a vision in the Foreword to the 2^nd edition:

“Alcohol being no respecter of persons, we are an accurate cross section of America, and in distant lands, the same democratic evening-up process is now going on. By personal religious affiliation, we include Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Hindus, and a sprinkling of Moslems and Buddhists. More than 15% of us are women. “

There it was – as plain as the nose upon our face! Glory be! But then puzzlement struck. Did this mean that the “sprinkling” should actually consist of Buddhists and/or Moslems? Surely not! Or was it the case that only Moslems or Buddhists could carry out the ceremony? Or perhaps you had to be either a Buddhist or Moslem in order to get 'sprinkled'! Most perplexing and no mistake! At this point we would have turned to our sponsor to ask for clarification/direction/have our fortunes told etc before remembering we don't have one! Such was the rush of relief at the complete absence of any kind of 'advisor' that all thoughts of 'sprinkling' completely passed from our minds and we passed into a state of profound tranquillity blah di blah di blah. Anyhoo ….. the upshot of our investigation revealed absolutely no reference to being sprinkled with water (holy or otherwise) whilst laying on the floor. Not in the Big Book, not the steps, not the traditions,not the concepts. There is in fact a complete absence of any kind of dousing with water alluded to therein.

In light of this might we suggest in all humility (is there any other way!) that anyone seeking 'forgiveness' or 'cleansing' pop along to see the local vicar where they will find an amiable enough fellow in a lacy white frock who will do the business (and for only a small fee). Or to put it another way – leave it to the pros! Similarly we really do believe our 'guru' should take up another hobby more in keeping with his predilections (although for the life of us we really can't think of one entirely suitable at this present time – suggestions may be sent SAE)

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

Humour? Well almost!

A chicken walks into a bar.

The bartender says "We don't serve poultry!"

The chicken says "That's OK I just want a drink."

A drunk goes into a bar. The bartender tosses him out as he is too drunk. The drunk walks back into the bar. Again, the bartender throws him out for being too drunk. Again the drunk walks into the bar. The bartender is just about the throw him out when the drunk looks at him and says, "How many bars do you own, anyway?"

A guy walks into a bar, sits down and hears a small voice say, "You look nice today." A few minutes later he again hears a small voice, "That's a nice shirt." The guy asks the bartender, "Who is that?" The bartender says, "Those are the peanuts. They're complimentary!"

A guy walks into a bar with jumper cables. The bartender says, "You can come in, but don't start anything!"

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)

Did we ever!

Cheerio

The Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)