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Page 1 of 2 Stanton examines the incredible bravery of Rebecca Fransway — and of those whose 12-step horrors she catalogues — and explains why this antidote to idyllic tales of AA glory is crucial.
In: Rebecca Fransway, 12-Step Horror Stories. Tucson, AZ: See Sharp Press.
© Copyright 2000 Stanton Peele. All rights reserved.
Morristown, NJ
Twelve-Step Horror Stories tells tales of unmitigated horror. And all of them occur either in 12-step support groups or in treatment based on the 12 step of Alcoholics Anonymous.
These stories cover a wide range of horrors. There is abuse by alcoholism counselors—many mentally ill themselves. There are therapists who refer people to AA purely because they themselves are alcoholics and who can see no other way of dealing with alcohol problems. They are either incapable of discerning that their patients are having intensely negative reactions to AA or simply can't deal with these reactions—including emotional breakdowns, relapses, and, ultimately in some cases, death. There are AA members who exploit newcomers, both physically and sexually. There are rape victims told to "look for [their] part" and even to "make amends" to their rapists. There are treatment center counselors who recommend jail for coerced clients who, even though no longer problem drinkers, resist 12-step treatment. There are AA members who die after taking "medical" advice from their sponsors or other AA members. There are others who are driven to suicide by the cruel treatment they received in 12 step groups. And there are untreated emotional needs—both of the victims of AA groups and 12-step treatment centers, and of the aggressors in these groups. One comes away from these stories with the feeling that one has had a glimpse into hell.
We can imagine AA advocates and members—indeed, a whole treatment system based on the beliefs of AA—questioning Rebecca Fransway's work here. And, indeed, she will be attacked—has already been attacked—for her efforts.
So why tell such stories? Those who tell their stories in this book reply, "Because the stories are true." Others add, "Why are we asked to accept at face value all the sugar-coated tales told by AA devotees and long-time members? Why is their reality better than ours?" Still others simply want to get their stories off their chests. By doing so they break their feelings of isolation—and perhaps help others with similar tales who are still isolated. The diversity of voices in this collection of stories is remarkable, yet the stories paint a consistent picture that underlines their veracity.
In contrast to the reality of the experiences described in these stories, the American public is asked, over and over again, to accept what is patently untrue—that AA and 12-step treatment are invariably benign and helpful. We are asked to believe this because some people fervently believe that AA brought them personal salvation, or because (if they are not alcoholics themselves) they imagine that the United States (and increasingly the rest of the world) has a healthy, successful AA-based system in place to care for alcoholics.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Since AA and treatment programs derived from it are based on folklore, on religious precepts (like powerlessness, acceptance, guidance from a higher power, confession of one's sins, etc.), there is really no "there" there. The dominant treatment model—and more than 95% of treatment programs in the United States rely wholly (usually) or in good part on the 12 steps—is an emperor with no clothes. It appeals to a relative few, while others are forced to go along for the ride—the over one million per year who attend due to court, employer, or other types of coercion. As for the rest—the overwhelming majority of those with alcohol problems—they stay as far away from AA as possible.
The response from the treatment system and AA true believers to this massive disinterest in, even antipathy toward, AA? They accuse all of these individuals of mental illness, of a desire to remain alcoholics, of a failure to note their true alcoholic state, and much more. In essence, they claim that the obvious and massive failure of the American alcoholism treatment system is due to those who are not helped by it.
But we rarely hear from these people. Many would ask, "Who wants to listen to an 'alcoholic in denial,' or a 'dry drunk' [the AA term for sober individuals who reject AA], for goodness sake?" In part, this book is a study of how such jargon, labels, and slogans are used to browbeat both those in AA and those who reject it.
For their part, those in this book are incredibly brave. After reading their stories one can hardly blame them for failing to succeed at 12-step alcoholism treatment or AA (although most whose stories appear in this book have eventually overcome their drinking problems, either on their own or with other forms of help—sometimes almost to spite AA). Instead of sinking into a hole ("jails, institutions, or death") after rejecting AA, as AA told them they would, they've stood on their own two feet and have dared to challenge a sacrosanct American icon.
That is why we should be so impressed with those brave enough to share their stories in this book. Those who contributed the stories here are strong and competent enough to perceive that what happened to them and around them in 12-step bedlam was wrong and harmful, and they had the courage to blow the whistle on it. This is an extremely healthy reaction that should be encouraged by those interested in mental health.
Indeed, AA and the treatment industry are so powerful that people generally do not do well when they either buckle under to them or buck them—particularly since people exposed to AA and 12-step treatment are often fragile and in deep trouble emotionally. Most are likely to feel the way this young woman did: "My very first experience with alcoholism treatment and 12-step programs was frightening and intrusive. Today, I would have the confidence to speak up immediately against the verbal and emotional abuse I witnessed. But at age 21, I had not yet learned to trust my own judgment in the face of disapproval. I was afraid of my own feelings, my own anger, and I think it's that very quality which allows the treatment industry to roll over so many people."
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