Anonymity

Anonymity.

Why bother, right?

The paparazzi take pictures of pop stars leaving AA meetings.

Movie stars and athletes issue a press release when they enter rehab*.

Newspapers regularly report if someone famous is sentenced to AA meetings.  A recent comedian who had some trouble with liquor and the law (I love typing that phrase, it sounds like something a cowboy would say, "... trouble with liquor and the law ...") was sentenced to AA meetings on Court TV!  So why should anyone bother to maintain their anonymity? What the hell is it, and why is it even important?

Well, historically of course, when AA first started it was a safeguard against stigma.  The idea that alcoholism is a disease still has its doubters even today -- back in the mid 1930's it was practically science fiction. Alcoholism was judged as a moral issue, generally, and if you were a drunk you were 'weak,' not ill.  So it was both a protection for the membership in AA and a way for new people to feel like their 'secret shame' could stay a secret, and they could feel (somewhat) comfortable checking AA out.

But things are different today, aren't they?  Alcoholism is protected by the Americans With Disabilities Act.  AA and the 12 Steps are, if not well understood, certainly not stigmatized.  A radio campaign currently running on Clear Channel affiliates (and if someone who understands why Clear Channel doesn't qualify as a monopoly could explain it to me I would be most grateful ... but I digress) is all about being a "Rock-a-holic" and attending meetings where you identify with, "I'm so-and-so, and I'm a Rock-a-holic" and everyone responds, "Hi so-and-so."  AA has been shifted, if not into the spotlight, then certainly onto the stage.

So, what's the big deal?

(Don't you just hate cute rhetorical questions? I should cut that out, but I can't seem to gracefully transition to my next point without it. I'll try to keep that kind of thing to a minimum though.  It's a little school teacherish, and I sure as hell am not trying to be that.)

The big deal is this:

"Anonymity is the spiritual foundation for all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities."

In an AA Meeting we are all equal. And in that equality is where the process of identification can begin -- it is just one alcoholic talking to another, and that's where the healing is transmitted.  We are alcoholics together, trying to get and/or stay sober. There are no bosses, no stars.  Human nature is of course a part of the mix. There will be popular people and those less so. Folks will flirt and bicker and argue. Tempers and jealousies alike will flare on occasion.  Some groups might seem "cliquey" and others "shallow" or "dull."  But all of that is a combination of human nature and ego and judgment operating (one man's cliquey is another man's sociable, after all).  I may feel like someone is more popular than I am, or more interesting or better liked (sob!) but all of those are just bullshit value judgments fueled by my ego and my fear.  In all the ways that truly matter in the fellowship, in other words, in the lifesaving ways, they and I are equals in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Further, we have no spokespeople.  (Thank God. Can you imagine?)

And this is a good thing, since if some famous idiot got sober in AA and bragged about it in the press and then drank, it would send a pretty inaccurate message to other people who might need AA's help.  Or, even if they stayed sober, people who thought the famous idiot was, in fact, an idiot, would use that as a rationalization for not approaching AA to look into how it might help their own drinking problem (if they had one).

Two things:

I once had a sponsor tell me, when the topic of anonymity at work came up, that it was not breaking my anonymity to say "I don't drink." But it is breaking my anonymity to say "I'm in AA."

(At the time I was confused on that point. Well, at that stage in my life I was confused on just about every point. So much time has passed since then, and so little has changed. <sigh>).  My sponsor went on to suggest that I should be careful when I break my anonymity, since I can't "un" break it.  As he explained it, breaking my anonymity is a responsibility, since I may be the only example of the Big Book that a person sees. So, if I choose to take that responsibility on, well... then I better be ready to work really hard not to be an asshole.

And finally, so the story goes, a few years before Bill Wilson passed away he was contacted by Time Magazine to be on the cover, as the "Founder of AA."  Now, I think if you read any of the biographies about Bill, and his own writing, it would be fair to say that although he had a profound spiritual experience early on that helped him get sober, he struggled on-and-off with his ego as any man (or woman) will -- and that struggle is particularly acute for an alcoholic.  And Bill had had many, many rough years well after he got sober.  So this invitation must have been like the whole Universe coming together to say, "Good job. Well done. Thank you."  A tremendous validation.  After a life of long and difficult struggle, and no small amount of hardship ... the cover of Time Magazine! (and back in the day that was a really, really big deal.)

And yet... he declined.  Anonymity at the level of press, radio and film. (Certainly television and the Internet are implied there.  It's bullshit, hair-splitting justification to say otherwise, in my opinion.)

So Time Magazine, apparently trying to be sensitive to Bill's principles, suggested that they take a picture of the back of his head. He could both remain anonymous and still be on the cover of Time.  (Oh, man, isn't that the best? When you make the hard decision and do the right thing and then you get to do what you wanted to anyway? It's like when a friend asks you to help them move, and you say yes, and then they decide to hire movers after all. So you get to feel all noble and get points for being a good friend, but not have to carry heavy boxes up and down the stairs.  Score!)

But Bill still declined.  No one among us is any more important than any other, in Alcoholics Anonymous. In AA we are equal, through our anonymity.  If Bill Wilson could honor both the letter and the spirit of that principle in such a way, can I ever do any less? Regardless of whatever pop culture boobs and media talking heads who have five minutes to fill in their daily blather choose to do.

*And, by the way, rehab is not AA. AA is AA. Rehab may talk about recovery, and sobriety, and many of the things that AA talks about ... rehab may even take someone to AA meetings, and have people that are sober through AA themselves doing good work there as counselors and support staff ... but AA is AA. AA is bound by Traditions -- 12 of them -- and what's called a 'singleness of purpose' that keeps us from letting our own good intentions destroy us.

Comments

[Steve E]

"Anonymity is the spiritual foundation for all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities."

That's it fo me.

[Michelle]

But there's another aspect to anonymity that we forget. If Bill had appeared on the cover of Time Magazine, he could never again sit down in a meeting and say, "Hi, I'm Bill. I'm an alcoholic" without everyone knowing he is THE Bill. That means when he was in trouble and in need of help, his ability to get help from someone who doesn't see him as a walking saint is going to be really limited. It doesn't matter if we have 2 days, 2 years, or 2 decades of being sober/clean/abstinent/etc, we all need the fellowship to stay that way at some point or another. It's really hard to reach out for a helping hand if you're sitting on a high pedestal.