Not-God (28 page)

The fundamental flaw that all observers consistently noted in the drinking alcoholic was “defective socialization.” The underlying dynamic as invariably pointed out in Alcoholics Anonymous was its process of “socialization.” How
this
“worked” was A.A.’s inculcation in its members of both the theory and the practice of joyous pluralism as the key to relationships among those self-consciously not-God.
⁴³

“Joyous pluralism.” The concept and its living out infused Alcoholics Anonymous from its moment of origin and throughout its history. Implicit in “sources” as diverse as William James and the Oxford Group, Ebby T. and Doctors Carl Jung and William Silkworth, it blossomed in the first meeting between William Griffith Wilson and Dr. Robert Holbrook Smith — “two men who in other circumstances would never have spent ten seconds together.” Beyond their Vermont background, the rigidly reserved and socially self-conscious surgeon and his fawningly promotional new acquaintance in 1935 shared absolutely nothing — except their alcoholism. Yet from this meeting and this sharing — and their results — sprang an enduring mutual respect: a respect for precisely what each in his “difference” could offer the other and through the other, many others.
⁴⁴

The continuing history of Alcoholics Anonymous demonstrated and validated this profound insight. In New York, the influence of the deeply religious Fitz M. offset the tugs on the developing program of the militantly agnostic Hank P. and the erratic Jim B. In Akron-Cleveland, the abrasive personality of Clarence S. balanced the pull of the sweetly dispositioned T. Henry Williams and the spiritually dedicated Henrietta Seiberling. Outside influences impinged, and were absorbed, similarly — whether the critical cynicism of Jack Alexander or the gentle profundity of Father Edward Dowling. A.A.’s claim of Wilson and Smith as “co-founders” rested not so much on their very real participation in these tensions as on the tiny part of each of them that remained above the struggles and saw the differences for what they proved to be in A.A. history: richly fruitful rather than harmfully destructive — and so “good.”

This perception, this sense, flowed vividly through Bill Wilson’s two favorite images. “In my Father’s house there are many mansions” meant to Wilson that
difference
was
good
. Recalling and relating to this awareness a childhood memory — “My grandfather used to have a saying, ‘It takes all kinds of folks to make a world’” — Bill found and proclaimed it not only foolish but impossible for himself or for Alcoholics Anonymous ever to forget that “one
can’t
be all things to all men.” Wilson’s cherished image of “Pilgrim’s Progress” carried the same message: limitation, and because of it, the need for others. If all were “pilgrims,” then no one had “arrived.” “Progress” upwards — as “progression” downwards — if possible, was also necessary.
⁴⁵

For all their thinking in terms of “salvation,” neither Bill Wilson nor Dr. Bob Smith nor Alcoholics Anonymous as such ever fell into the treacherous trap such an understanding could lay — the oppressive burden of obligation to impose vision and the consequent intolerance that often ensnared those conscious of possessing “saving truth.” “In the early days of A.A. I spent a lot of time trying to get people to agree with me, to practice A.A. principles as I did, and so forth. For so long as 1 did this … A.A. grew very slowly.” Quickly although painfully Wilson early noted, “Nor have we ever had the slightest success in insisting upon some particular form of salvation. Nevertheless we can bring people within the reach of salvation — that is, of the salvation
they
choose.”
⁴⁶

Fundamental to this understanding was Wilson’s own sense of limitation — and sense of humor. As the co-founder urged his followers in one early plea for “openness” in Alcoholics Anonymous, “The way our ‘worthy’ alcoholics have sometimes tried to judge the ‘less worthy’ is, as we look back on it, rather comical. Imagine, if you can, one alcoholic judging another!” Late in his career Wilson explicitly rejoiced “[A.A.] works for people with very
differing
views — that is
good!”
Very early in his public career, Bill in sly quotation of Dr. Bob had sagely informed those gathered under the august auspices of Yale University to hear their and A.A.’s “secret”: “As someone well put it, ‘Honesty gets us sober but tolerance keeps us sober.’”
⁴⁷

Two decades later, William Griffith Wilson drove home the same point and a deeper one in replying to a correspondent who, upset at some of the “goings-on” in Alcoholics Anonymous, had sought to enlist the co-founder’s support for his own vision — “in many ways attractive” — of “what A. A. should be”: “It seems absolutely necessary for most of us to get over the idea that man is God.”
⁴⁸

+
   By “transcendence” in this paragraph is meant “outside or beyond the limits of ordinary self.” No implication is intended that such “transcendence” touched directly the divine — except in an understanding that “the divine”
is
“that beyond the limits of the ordinary self.” Wilson’s understanding of a personalized God/Higher Power clearly went beyond such an understanding.

+
   The photograph of “the actual coffee pot …” that appears in
AACA
(following p. 114) might be accepted as justifying the “Holy Grail” reference. Despite attendance at hundreds of A.A. meetings in the course of this research, I am at a loss to suggest the possible basis for any sense of Eucharist in the stale cheese, dry crackers, and invariably either too strong or too weak coffee served, except perhaps to the most mystically inclined — which Cain clearly is not.

+
   By “special groups” (more recently called “special-purpose groups”) are meant groups claiming to be “Alcoholics Anonymous” but restricted in attendance according to some shared factor in the lives of their members other than their alcoholism.

+
   Recently, at least in large metropolitan areas, some A.A. meetings are listed in official “Meeting Lists” as “Women’s” or “Gay.” 1 have no way of reconciling this with what is said in this paragraph, beyond noting: (1) such did not exist before 1971, when this narrative essentially stops; (2) such meetings tend to be indistinguishable from many other A.A. small group meetings that also seem to verge as much to group therapy as to be “A.A.”; (3) none which I attended
excluded
“visitors” — rather, the visitor was told that he would be “more comfortable” at “a regular A.A. meeting” but was allowed to remain if such were not readily available; (4) the
AAGV
34:5 (October 1977) contained five articles treating, in general critically, of “special-purpose groups” (pp. 6-18), calling this “an issue of moment in A.A.”

+
   The phenomenon referred to here is more usually described as “racial segregation.” Three considerations impel to my preference for the phrase “segregation by color”: 1) “color” is the more exact term — “race” cannot be seen; 2) recent anthropological thought cautions against thinking in terms of “race” on the grounds both that it is theoretically inadequate and that it too readily can feed discriminatory bigotry; 3) the not-God theme that I find inherent in the philosophy of Alcoholics Anonymous essentially implies that there is but one “race” — the
human
race — and that all members of it are first and fundamentally equal in their shared not-God-ness. I regret if my choice here offends, but I hope these considerations plus the discussion to follow in Chapter Nine will add to the solution rather than to the problem of one of the tragedies of our time. If I have judged wrongly, forgive me: I too am human, and so not God.

“A.A. is an utter simplicity which encases a complete mystery.”

(Wilson to J.L.K., 1943)

Part One has considered in detail the history of Alcoholics Anonymous — the story of the origins and development of the ideas conveyed within the fellowship.

A historical phenomenon may be likened to a plant or a flower. Each blossom possesses its own distinctive quality, but its beauty — and especially an observer’s appreciation of its uniqueness — is strongly influenced by two circumstances: the background against which it is seen and the nature of the environment in which it has grown. The historian calls the first the “historical context” and refers to the second as the “climate of opinion.”

The historical narrative of Part One examined what may be called the “soil of opinion,” primarily the Oxford Group, out of which Alcoholics Anonymous grew and blossomed. It also noted and analyzed other nutrients: the ideas of Dr. Jung and William James, for example. The story revealed especially the primary role of the early members’ own personal experience in sustaining and shaping their program’s growth.

There are several preliminary points to be noted as we turn to examine the larger contexts from which Alcoholics Anonymous came to be. To the historian, the study of history is never reductionist: it never implies downgrading any phenomenon to “nothing but.” Yet the discipline of history imposes the obligation to attempt some interpretation, at least of
meaning
.

The “meaning” of Alcoholics Anonymous to the individual sober member of the fellowship is, of course, first and foremost that through its program he attained sobriety. There is perhaps no greater meaning possible, even if Alcoholics Anonymous had saved but one life rather than the over one million to which its members point. But “meaning” is also a social and cultural phenomenon. The first task of Part Two is to explore
this
meaning: what Alcoholics Anonymous says about and to its culture.

This examination of meaning in context has also a second function, one more precisely historical but not for that any less significant. That Alcoholics Anonymous did not drop from the sky fully formed is by now clear from the historical narrative which examined the influences upon A.A. of Dr. Silkworth and Dr. Jung, of William James and the Oxford Group, of the particular experiences of founding members as diverse as Bill Wilson, Dr. Bob Smith, Fitz M., Jim B., and Clarence S. of Cleveland. Yet passed by within the narrative except for a note was an intriguing congruence that, while it had no significantly direct influence upon Alcoholics Anonymous, will surely interest later historians.

Alcoholics Anonymous was not the only therapy for alcoholics that flourished in its time. Other approaches to treating alcoholism, although they derived from sources very different from the influences that impinged upon A.A., used similar methods and even incorporated some of the same ideas that a forgetfulness of history leads later thinkers to associate exclusively with Alcoholics Anonymous. In particular, the approach of Richard R. Peabody, as developed by Francis Chambers and popularized especially by the talented writer Jim Bishop, not only preceded in time Wilson’s own sobriety but was well into the 1950s accepted and endorsed by many doctors and clergy much more enthusiastically than was Alcoholics Anonymous. Why did Alcoholics Anonymous take root and over time flourish so spectacularly while such other, similar approaches soon languished into the demise all too usual for “new approaches” to the treatment of alcoholism? The analysis of context that follows in Part Two will, I believe, answer this question at least for the present generation of historians.
¹

Three cautions must preface this Introduction to Part Two. These concern the sources of evidence and the questions of idealization and advocacy.

The history narrated in Part One focused upon Bill Wilson and the General Service Office of Alcoholics Anonymous in New York City. “Real A.A.,” a reproach might remind, “is the grass roots, the individual groups.” I heartily agree. Yet, all members of Alcoholics Anonymous cherish their “Big Book,” and most over the years revealed deep interest in Bill Wilson’s other thoughts and writings. It was to “Bill W.” in New York that most A.A. members throughout the country turned with their problems so long as the co-founder lived, and the
ideas
that are Alcoholics Anonymous nowhere else appear in writing whether published or unpublished with the aura that surrounds Wilson’s contributions.
²

Nevertheless, because Alcoholics Anonymous is fellowship as well as program, Part Two attempts to balance the concentration of Part One on A.A. literature and documents. The generalizations that follow, especially in Chapters Eight and Nine, derive first from actual attendance at a variety of A.A. meetings. Because Alcoholics Anonymous is anonymous, these are uncitable; and therefore, when appropriate, such citations as are offered are to printed or written sources. Yet it should be kept in mind that the development of analysis that follows is based less on the perusal of documents than on approaching Alcoholics Anonymous — albeit critically — on its own terms, as fellowship.

The second caution is that the total, over-all picture of Alcoholics Anonymous detailed in Part Two presents a somewhat idealized vision. Not all A.A. members and not every A.A. group can be adduced as evidence for any of the facets of Alcoholics Anonymous here described, and the total description probably fits no individual A.A. group exactly. Individuals and groups of any kind rarely live up to all their ideals, nor are all implications that are clearly present in a philosophy always lived out in practice even by those who enthusiastically embrace that philosophy. Yet what follows describes not merely an ideal. Most of the A.A. groups observed and most of the A.A. members met
did
reflect in daily life and practice a living out of the ideas presented. There are exceptions, but they are by and large just that — exceptions, if what actually occurs within almost any A.A. group at virtually any A.A. meeting be carefully and open-mindedly observed.