Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience
James B. Nelson
If addiction is a personal, even intimate way of handling existential despair, shaped not only by trauma (an undeniable precursor to substance abuse), but by our current societal circumstances, (and the life we find ourselves in)—then many recovery models should be under consideration. While illuminating several aspects of substance abuse in this blog, Alcohol Use Disorder is at the forefront, as that is the principal topic of Nelson’s narrative.
In Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience, James Nelson asserts that the two reigning paradigms historically used to explain addiction—disease and deviance—are oversimplified, compartmentalized, and poached from a much more complex reality. To be clear, this blog is not a dualistic argument about what works and what doesn’t work as per addiction—there are a myriad of contributing factors. I am not suggesting that there is no space for the medical model on the path toward healing, only that the roots of addiction run much deeper and that they also deserve our poignant consideration.
This blog—or book review, as it were, is a brief consideration of the role of society and our social constructs as they pertain to an individuals’ sense of self—with the underlying theory that recovery does not happen in a vacuum, but is enmeshed in the culture we’re living in, and the collective ‘mirror’ that reflects our journey back to us. Secondly, I’ll touch on the philosophical guidelines of Enlightenment Models, like 12 the Steps Programs, and how they encourage self-awareness and accountability as a means of uncovering our innate human value—which far exceeds the social narrative—and thereby offers a kind of liberation that is beyond the social context.
Two themes, therefore:
- Our society reflects back at us, in intrinsic and extrinsic ways, our worth (based on a host of standards) as a citizen.
- Enlightenment Programs can move us beyond the narrow constraints of this construct, into a more esoteric understanding of our worth as a human being. Though individual experiences differ, they can motivate change on the level of Spirit (complex and personal sense of Universal Wisdom).
(Note that Nelson and I mostly refer to to non-secular 12 Step Programs, where so-called ‘god-language’ is still utilized.)
The medical model is ubiquitous; it emerged out of the ideological categorization of addiction as “disease” which became pervasive in the mid 80s and theoretically marked a departure from the former more punitive ideas of addiction that pigeonholed substance abuse as a blend of social and personal deviance. In western hospitals (as part of the ‘social contract’) harm reduction strategies are often at the forefront of treatment; the “patient” who has a “disease” is supported to enter “remission.” Such strategies can be pharmaceutical in nature: like methadone treatment programs for opioid users, or naltrexone for alcohol use disorder. They can also be lifestyle-based, like wet house placements for those struggling with alcohol . The model is not nefarious in nature; it is meant to help those who are struggling break the endless cycle of use.
Although the disease model has helped to put the reality of substance-abuse disorder in a category other than “moral,” and thereby broadened our collective understanding and hopefully our social acceptance, in Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience, Nelson asserts that “any definition of alcoholism as disease that is solely medical in nature quickly becomes reductionist [insofar as] it shifts [our focus] away from the whole person…”(p.53). He also points out that “disease language, relying on medical metaphor, suggests the need for treatment and therapy” (p.77) often to the exclusion of other modalities. At its best, therefore, it frontloads society with viable and compassion-based harm reduction models (sometimes effective; sometimes not); at its worst it streamlines ‘healing’ into a pharmaceutical vortex, pushes the “disease” theory as a one-size-fits-all, and in doing so manages to trump other ideologies outside of its parameters.
That the “disease model has become the fundamental understanding of the human predicament” in our contemporary times (2004, p.53) is unsurprising. Living in a capitalist society that drives a capitalist mentality, narrow views of personhood inevitably emerge that subconsciously alienate and fracture our sense of self and others. These ideas are based in conceptual “worth.” Capitalism, driven by (and perpetuating) patriarchy, is intrinsically empowered to co-create and endorse the hierarchies of race, gender, class, ability, ethnicity, etc. This is a kind of violence committed against us, in the form of a pervasive cultural discourse that aims to divide our collective perception into two categories: those whose lives are worth something, and those whose lives are worth nothing. Lives that are “worth something” are those that ascribe to a certain standard of physicality, race, gender, class, ability, and of course earning-potential; lives that are “worth nothing” are those that do not or cannot meet these socially constructed standards and therefore fall short of the rubric that determines self-worth or social acceptance. In the eyes of society, this has rendered the addict, “ill”.
Nelson’s argument is counter cultural. He asserts that “theology can offer not only alternative views of addiction but also alternative views of sin itself [italics mine]…to move beyond the shallow moralism that has condemned so many alcoholics…” (2004, p. 59). Let’s collectively drop the word “sin” that just made the reader uncomfortable and think about it as hamartia or “missing the mark.” Let’s consider what Nelson is saying in lay terms: that we can and should also consider addiction—and all the commensurate grief and shame that come with it—through a more humanistic, spiritual lens, so that the “worth” of the addict can be restored, both in his/her eyes, and in the eyes of society. This act, in and of itself, is a turn away from the capitalist ethos, and a turn toward more esoteric, intrinsic meaning-making. A lens that includes all of us, furthermore, as we struggle with the subconscious biases, alienation, and estrangement that are intrinsic to our insatiable culture.
Nelson establishes that our subconscious human thirst is for wholeness instead of estrangement and that most of what is “sold as virtue” in contemporary society—self-sufficiency, self-satisfaction, appearance, independence, and power over others—are actually “marks of our estrangement” that manage to do little to serve our interior needs (2004, p.121). Cultural pressures that aim to preserve pride, pleasure, power, and possessions drive our existential angst, in that they bypass our longing for deeper human meaning. This spiritual brokenness is reflected in contemporary social wreckage—of which the drug crisis is part and parcel. Deeply estranged from each other, we fail to be our sister’s/brother’s keeper.
Such alienation from ourselves, others, and a “transcendent power” (again, call it what you want), keep the capitalist system robust. While we continue to immerse ourselves in it (with the false belief that our desires and attachments will bring us contentment), we end up subordinating aspects of our humanity that long for love and connection. “The real problem, then, is not lack of faith. It is the wrong kind of faith, faith wrongly directed” (2004, p. 153).
Enlightenment Models, like 12 Step programs for Alcohol Use Disorder, are not just recovery frameworks from addiction, but a trajectory toward personal transformation and spiritual awakening. How? “Even in the middle of their powerlessness, alcoholics must take responsibility and make the decision to surrender” (2004, p.116). This is a departure from the medical model, where the patient is considered somewhat powerless over their ‘illness’ (like a cancer patient), and the havoc it has caused in his/her life. On the contrary, Enlightenment Models endorse a belief that addiction doesn’t render the substance-abuser entirely choice-less or powerless, especially when that individual is connected to a sense of ultimacy that transcends his/her ego (sense of self). That is key. You must name your god—whatever that entity is for you.
Why? The idea—that there is still a connection to one’s indomitable agency, resilience and preciousness—elements of personhood that are not sanctioned by the culture in which we’re embedded, nor by the addiction that’s claimed us, but by something much more esoteric and brilliant—is viewed as a source of inspiration and power, regardless of how you or I might personally define it. It also defies victimization. The theory is that that which is deep inside of you (call if Life Force, Essence, Spirit), that which is more than what is outwardly apparent, cannot be called forth if you cannot acknowledge responsibility and claim your personal power. In this way, Enlightenment Programs foster the pursuit of an entirely counter-cultural ‘awakening’—that is—the solace of one’s own preciousness, inherent goodness, untouchable human worth and force. What we surrender is the illusion that social constructs have the final say on who we are—addicted or otherwise.
I would argue that accountability language—present in all 12 Step Programs, and often heavily resisted, is not the same as blame language. Blame language is violent communication; accountability language has its basis in agency and, I would assert, self-awareness, in which the individual feels contrition instead of remorse, and appropriate regret instead of shame, where one works within the fields of forgiveness instead of resentment, and confession instead of narcissistic defence (Nelson, 2004, p.184). In encouraging self-reflection, moral inventory, and a sense of purpose, the language of Enlightenment Models (far from being a “patient” with a “disease” that requires external “treatment”) may have the power to bring you home to yourself. In well-run, honest, programs (I recognize that that is now always the case, unfortunately), the blend of vulnerability, transparency, and amends-making, (including with yourself), may culminate in a surrender to the existential pain that has mysteriously claimed you. Furthermore, that they aim to plant the seeds of integrity, and personal responsibility, constitute the bedrock of a conscious society.
After years of work in this field, my heart is with Nelson insofar as he believes that addictions are the “ruins of our search for transcendence” (2004, pp.30-31) and that recovery—to a great extent—is a spiritual process that sets us on a re(new)ed trajectory. I note to the reader—this is not as simple as endorsing your belief in any godlike figure (also language that is greatly debated)—but more the complex exploration of the balance between grasping and letting go; your individual wilfulness versus surrender to something outside of yourself (call it universal wisdom) that just may be ‘programmed’ to love you. With your consent.
References
Klaue, K. (1999). Drugs, Addiction, Deviance and Disease As Social Constructs
https://www.unodc.org/unodc/en/data-and-analysis/bulletin/bulletin_1999-01-
01_1_page005.html
Nelson, James B. (2004). Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience. London, UK: Westminster John
Knox Press.