aacultwatch's
perspective on:
The
AA (General Servic econference approved) book:
“Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions: A co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous tells how members recover and how the society functions”
(an
almost as wildly discursive commentary as our 'take' on the Big Book)
This
tome is much reviled in cult circles (especially amongst the Big Book
nutters who regard it as almost heretical! (A point of interest:
if you're looking for meetings largely free of the aforementioned
'fruitcakes', and for that matter sundry other screwballs, then
a Twelve Step meeting following the format of the above text is
usually a safe bet). The text we will be using is as indicated
above. And now we come to:
“Step
One
“We
admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become
unmanageable.”
Who
cares to admit complete defeat? Practically no one, of
course. Every natural instinct cries out against the idea of personal
powerlessness.
It is truly awful to admit that, glass in hand, we have warped our
minds into such an obsession
for destructive drinking that only an act of Providence
can remove it from us.
No
other kind of bankruptcy
is like this one. Alcohol, now become the rapacious creditor, bleeds
us of all self-sufficiency
and all will to
resist its demands. Once this stark fact is accepted, our bankruptcy
as going human concerns is complete.
But
upon entering A.A [or before – such an
admission is not purely contingent upon attending AA] we soon
take quite another view of this absolute humiliation. We
perceive that only through utter [“absolute”,
“complete”, “utter”- these superlatives serve to emphasise
the point] defeat are we able to take our first steps
toward liberation and strength. Our admissions of personal powerlessness finally turn out to be firm bedrock upon which
happy and purposeful lives may be built.
We
know that little good can come to any alcoholic who joins A.A. unless
he has first accepted his devastating weakness and all its
consequences. Until he so humbles himself, his sobriety—if
any—will be precarious. Of real happiness
he will find none at all. Proved beyond doubt by an immense
experience, this is one of the facts of A.A. life. The principle that
we shall find no enduring strength until we first admit complete
defeat is the main taproot from which our whole Society has
sprung and flowered.
When
first challenged to admit defeat, most of us revolted. We had
approached A.A. expecting to be taught self-confidence. Then we had
been told that so far as alcohol is concerned, self-confidence was
no good whatever [this suggests that
self-confidence is not entirely devoid of utility]; does not
necessarily in fact, it was a total liability. Our sponsors declared
that we were the victims of a mental obsession so subtly powerful
that no amount of human willpower could break it. There was,
they said, no such thing as the personal conquest of this compulsion
by the unaided will. Relentlessly deepening our dilemma, our
sponsors pointed out our increasing sensitivity to alcohol—an
allergy, they called it. The tyrant alcohol wielded a double-edged
sword over us: first we were smitten by an insane urge [mental
obsession] that condemned us to go on drinking, and then by an
allergy of the body [physical compulsion]
that insured we would ultimately destroy ourselves in the process.
Few indeed were those who, so assailed, had ever won through in
single-handed combat. It was a statistical fact that
alcoholics almost never recovered on their own resources [but
see Recovery/Remission from Substance Use Disorders: An Analysis of Reported Outcomes in 415 Scientific Reports, 1868-2011]. And this had been true,
apparently, ever since man had first crushed grapes.
In
A.A.’s pioneering time, none but the most desperate cases could
swallow and digest this unpalatable truth. Even these “last-gaspers”
often had difficulty in realizing how hopeless
they actually were. But a few did, and when these laid hold of A.A.
principles with all the fervour with which the drowning seize life
preservers, they almost invariably [a
qualified assurance – nothing in life is certain except, of course,
death and taxes!] got well. That is why the first edition of
the book “Alcoholics Anonymous” [4th
edn], published when our membership was small, dealt with
low-bottom cases only. Many less desperate alcoholics tried A.A., but
did not succeed because they could not make the admission of
hopelessness.
It
is a tremendous satisfaction to record that in the following years
this changed. Alcoholics who still had their health, their families,
their jobs, and even two cars in the garage, began to recognize their
alcoholism. As this trend grew, they were joined by young people who
were scarcely more than potential alcoholics. They were spared that
last ten or fifteen years of literal hell the rest of us had gone
through. Since Step One requires an admission that our lives have
become unmanageable,
how could people such as these take this Step?
It
was obviously necessary to raise the bottom the rest of us had hit to
the point where it would hit them. By going back in our own drinking
histories, we could show that years before we realized it we were
out of control, that our drinking even then was no mere habit,
that it was indeed the beginning of a fatal progression. To
the doubters we could say, “Perhaps you’re not an alcoholic after
all. Why don’t you try some more controlled drinking, bearing in mind
meanwhile what we have told you about alcoholism?” This attitude
brought immediate and practical results. It was then discovered that
when one alcoholic had planted in the mind of another the true
nature of his malady, that person could never be the same again.
Following every spree,
he would say to himself, “Maybe those A.A.’s were right....”
After a few such experiences, often years before the onset of extreme
difficulties, he would return to us convinced. He had hit bottom as
truly as any of us. John Barleycorn himself had become our best advocate [ie
there is no better alternative to confronting active alcoholism than
direct experience – reasoned argument, persuasion, education etc
are insufficient substitutes].
Why
all this insistence that every A.A. must hit bottom first? The answer
is that few people will sincerely try to practice the A.A. program
unless they have hit bottom. For practising A.A.’s remaining
eleven Steps means the adoption of attitudes and actions that
almost no alcoholic who is still drinking can dream of taking. Who
wishes to be rigorously honest and tolerant? Who wants
to confess his faults to another and make restitution
for harm done? Who cares anything about a Higher Power, let alone
meditation and prayer? Who wants to sacrifice time and energy
in trying to carry A.A.’s message to the next sufferer? No,
the average alcoholic, self-centred in the extreme, doesn’t
care for this prospect—unless he has to do these things in order
to stay alive himself [the
bottom line!].
Under
the lash of alcoholism, we are driven to A.A., and there we discover
the fatal nature of our situation. Then, and only then, do we become
as open-minded to conviction and as willing to listen as the dying
can be. We stand ready to do anything [“willing
to listen” but then act according to our own judgement – not
someone else's!] which will lift the merciless obsession
from us.”
(our emphases)(our
observations in red print)
Coming
next – Step Two
Cheers
The
Fellas (Friends of Alcoholics Anonymous)
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