Fellowship: for one, for all
I am a grateful member of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and Narcotics Anonymous (NA), both of which are 12-step-based fellowships. These global societies serve as the foundation for millions of people’s recovery from substance abuse and the chaos it brings, providing safe and dependable meeting spaces, networking with like-minded people, and a life-saving design for living, laid out plainly in a framework of esoteric literature. Their operative profile is fascinating—built horizontally, there is no official leadership, only self-proclaimed members who voluntarily help with various aspects of maintenance. The only necessity for association is a desire to stop using drugs and/or alcohol, and to stay abstinent—eligibility is simple, straightforward, and non-discriminatory—and no person may deny entry to another. Even in the case of illegal or disruptive activity, the elicitor cannot be refused entry. They would be removed while remaining a risk; however, assuming they stay out of prison, they are always welcomed back, no questions asked, no judgment placed upon them from the group as a whole. Many 12-step-oriented individuals refrain from judgement in general—in all likelihood, they have been there—they have committed similar crimes, caused the same disruption, yet now they occupy a seat, serene and productive, a past life in the rear-view window.1
As I navigate my way through our world, I often contemplate the formation and operation of these recovery programs, contrasting their unusual structure to that of the communal framework embedding them. Capitalistic and cutthroat, the civilization we reside in can be cruel, catering directly to those capable of generating abundance—or, those born into it. There is a natural, undeniable pecking order, an illogical rationale for who gets to live comfortably and who doesn’t, and a significant element of luck dictates the ultimate distribution of commodities and wealth. The realm of 12-step is entirely different. It is a shiny needle in the materialistic haystack of life. It does not care who you are, where you came from, what you have or what you do, and does not even ask. It has always inspired in me a feeling of awe. Members who have sobriety, the primary metric of value and wisdom, are cherished, somewhat analogous to elders in ancient cultures. Newcomers are also important, as they provide those more experienced the chance to pass on what they know and hone their recovery, preventing complacency and extending the group’s existence in time and space, a beautiful demonstration of human symbiosis. Our global community would stand to learn a great deal from its secret underbelly; many things done wrong at the collective level, recovery fellowships do surprisingly right.
The history of 12-step fellowships is rich and curious, with a cult-like essence of lore surrounding their inception. Alcoholics Anonymous, the group from which all others stemmed from, was conceived in 1935 by a collection of drunkards; most notably, messiah figure Bill Wilson (Bill W.) and surgeon Robert Smith, incessantly referred to as Dr. Bob.2 These men found themselves baffled by their inability to cease their destructive drinking, despite well-mannered intentions, until Bill W. experienced what Carl Jung called a vital spiritual experience, a shift in thought and perception so profound that it alters the course of action in one’s everyday living. The program was thus created to induce these vital experiences in others, achieved fundamentally through completion of twelve simple steps. The steps are organized to gradually lift the user out from the burning wreckage of their past, crafting a brand new life in the eyes of God and their peers, saved from the fiery jaws of addiction. They are summarized, in simplified terms, as follows:3
Step 1: Admit that your life is unmanageable and you are powerlessness over drugs.
Step 2: Develop faith in God, as you understand it, to restore you to sanity.
Step 3: Make the choice to align your will and life with that of God.
Step 4: Write a thorough inventory of all your fears and past moral failings.
Step 5: Share that inventory with a trustworthy peer, and with God.
Step 6: Recognize that defects, characteristic of addiction, led to wrongdoings.
Step 7: Humbly ask your higher power to unburden you from these flaws.
Step 8: Craft a complete list of persons you harmed during active addiction.
Step 9: Make genuine, non-damaging amends, if possible, asking how to do right.
Step 10: Perform a daily moral inquiry, making further amends as necessary.
Step 11: Maintain conscious contact with God through spiritual practice.
Step 12: Pass on the message of recovery through service, sharing and mentorship.
Steps 1 and 2 are reflections; steps 3 - 10 actions; and steps 11 and 12 maintenance. Since their inception, there have been no alterations to the steps—not even to the wording—believed by some to be a direct gift from God, immutable and perfect by design. They offer customization—one’s conception of God as a higher power can grow and evolve as they do, the only requirement being that it is indeed a force stronger than them. Witty acronyms float through the rooms—group of drunks or good-orderly direction, for example—useful workarounds for those damaged by organized religion, a surprising commonality amongst many attendees. Some utilize the rooms themselves as their higher power, others, nature, love, or their children. I once envisioned the adaptation of a unified spiritual front; to have a digestible and practicable model of God, one proven rigorously and presentable to masses, would allow for more inner cohesion and therefore higher success rates. However, this is mere fantasy—an intriguing pondering with underlying potentiality—these groups work and there is wisdom in the proverb: if its not broke, don’t fix it.
That being said, 12-step fellowships are not without their pitfalls. Operating on attraction rather than promotion, public outreach is somewhat frowned upon, albeit not breaking any rules per say. Getting addicts into the rooms is challenging. One does not show up by accident—through divine intervention or shear luck, it is a wonderous fortune for a sufferer of addiction to find themselves privy to the inner workings of 12-step. Unfortunately, the success rates are rather low. 10% is commonly touted as the portion of people who come and actually stay; a metric near-impossible to properly measure, of course, but telling regardless of the inherent difficulty in committing to recovery.4 Addiction is modelled as a disease that is progressive and fatal—a fair assessment to those who have witnessed its power—and this leaves little room for theoretical debate. This is seemingly irrelevant, however—the primary purpose is to foster sustained sobriety, not to spout ideologues about metaphysics. One remains clean by getting involved—from pouring coffee and greeting to higher-level volunteer work—and those who choose not to are destined to stand on the edge, looking inwards at the intertwined whole. Clique-like segregation can occur, especially in smaller, more secluded groups, a facet that could easily drive out the newcomer before they find the chance to belong. The jargon can be obnoxious, particularly in the far more traditional fellowship of AA; the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, the group’s predominant text, reads with a biblical tone and can be incredibly hard to get into without the guidance of an experienced mentor.5 Furthermore, 12-step carries with it the possibility for abuse and manipulation. A crucial part of the process is the interpersonal disclosure of one’s intimate history, which may entail illegal or immoral behavior, and entrusting these secrets with a stranger is a dangerous endeavor. I have felt this nervousness firsthand; having struggled with deeply rooted complexities around trust, I delayed completion of the critical steps 4 and 5 for years until opportunity arose, finally working with a chaplain to finish them during inpatient treatment.
Regardless of underlying problems, 12-step fellowships represent what is likely the best solution available for the monstrous dilemma that is addiction. Members see the subject as ominous, rightfully so given the walks of life which have brought them together. Attending meetings can be a daunting, emotional task; people at all stages of recovery are heard speaking, sometimes crying, often facing extremely painful situations—the cost of addiction. One becomes both humbled and desensitized after spending enough time in the rooms, grasping to protect their newfound sense of sanity, and it can weigh on you. It is not a panacea—you are told promptly to do the hard work if you wish to survive. This involves obtaining a sponsor, someone with substantial sober time willing to pass on the message, who walks the sponsee step-by-step through the architecture of redemption. Through periodic transfer of strength, hope and experience, the fire of unity burns eternally.
Alongside the steps are the 12 traditions, guidelines for existence and operation of individual groups within the encapsulating fellowship.6 Each tradition brings a unique value regarding the maintenance of said groups, all of which are connected in spirit but ultimately autonomous. For example, the 3rd tradition lays out the aforementioned requirement for membership—a desire to stop, to heal and to be better—disavowing the rejection of others for any purpose. The 7th, brought up ritualistically every meeting, states that funding, be it for rent, literature, or events, may only come from within—a basket is passed around for silent donation so that monetary biases are averted. The 10th, critical to fellowship survival, relays a warning against public ownership of ideological or political stances, lest they entice a partisan majority to attend, and that the groups shall not engage in controversy. The 12th—anonymity as a spiritual foundation; the 4th—self-governance; the 1st—greater good as an umbrella for individual recovery; the 8th—non-professionalism; the 2nd—collective unconscious as governing leader. These historic statements ring out in spoken word during regular gatherings, creating an elegantly woven fabric of reason and logic; rules that, if superimposed, our own society could be enhanced by.7
The published works of 12-steps fellowships are vast and powerful—within them are profound and useful sayings, euphemisms, prayers and anecdote, as well as practical advice for living, thinking and acting—advice that sharply contradicts years of addiction. One day at a time—my favorite platitude, simple yet expansive, potent and life-changing, reminding us quite literally to operate within the present day, casting all others before and after as irrelevant, either gone from the realm of control or yet to have arrived. Living this way saved me countless times—through hardship, all I could do was survive the day, and fixating on past or future would only wound, boosting the likelihood of peril. Yet another brilliant motto is the serenity prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Rudimentary, perhaps, yet vividly deep, capturing so plainly the route from madness to serenity. Chanted in unison at the front- or back-end of assembly, this prolific adage hosts peace and love, opening a resting place for the weary traveler, multilayered in both depth and breadth of reach. The words are stamped onto sobriety chips, helpful reminders that celebrate milestones of recovery.8
We must be diligent as to not take 12-step for granted—its importance is hard to fathom, acting as the underpinning pillar of life for those who feed from it. Indeed, it is always there, ready and able to take you in, knowledge of which has comforted me greatly in times of absenteeism; however, we must stay grateful for its presence, we must understand its basic needs as a breathing organism, and we must nourish it. Unlike the way things are in the rest of the world, all members must contribute when able and take when in need—a harmonized interplay of compassionate welfare. It is a genuine matter of the heart—I myself am so thankful for the fellowship of recovery, a place of true community and structure, ideals paramount to successful sobriety.
My only warning, coming from years of trialed schemas, is to not place all of one’s recovery atop a singular pillar. My blueprint of living centers on multiple pedestals—yoga, trauma work, and writing, on top of my 12-step exposure, culminate into a solid manifesto with ample room for contingency, a stronghold defense against engineering error. Addiction is a harsh, barren place. Recovery demands that we bond in communal fashion, looking out for one another as we forge forward through the gates of sanity, and 12-step groups offer that and more in grand supply.
Many other 12-step fellowships exist worldwide, such as Cocaine Anonymous (CA), Crystal Meth Anonymous (CMA), Gamblers Anonymous (GA), Codependents Anonymous (CoDA), Pills Anonymous (PA), Eating Disorder Anonymous (EDA), Emotions Anonymous (EA), Marijuana Anonymous (MA), Sex Addicts Anonymous (SAA), Heroin Anonymous (HA), Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA), Al-Anon, and Nar-Anon. For a comprehensive list see here.
Find the actual 12 steps of AA here. The steps of other fellowships are very similar with slight changes to wording.
After completing this post, I came across this article which speaks of an uncited survey of 6500 members of AA, across USA and Canada. Apparently, 35% stayed sober longer than 5 years, 34% stayed sober between 1 and 5 years, and 31% stayed sober less than 1 year. However, a survey is somewhat hard to trust, as attendance is not regular or tracked, and many people could have come in and out during the survey and not been counted.
NA was designed to be far more accessible than AA, with modernized literature and inclusivity for a broader scope of addictions.
Also existing are the 12 concepts, which describe the idealized placement of entire fellowships on a societal scale.
Chips are given out in AA while key-tags are used in NA and most other fellowships I have tried.
Creator credits for Unsplash photos, from top to bottom: Unsplash+, Hannah Busing, John Cameron