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Tradition Eleven: “Our public relations policy is based on
attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal
anonymity at the level of press, radio, and films.”
Tradition Twelve: “Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of
all our Traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before
personalities.”
A.A.’s co-founder, Bill W., affirmed the ongoing importance of
anonymity in his “last message” to the Fellowship in October 1970. “If I
were asked which of these blessings I felt was most responsible for our
growth as a fellowship and most vital to our continuity, I would say, the
‘Concept of Anonymity.’...A.A. must and will continue to change with the
passing years. We cannot, nor should we, turn back the clock. However, I
deeply believe that the principle of anonymity must remain our primary and
enduring safeguard. As long as we accept our sobriety in our traditional
spirit of anonymity we will continue to receive God’s grace.”
When Bill spoke these words A.A. was 35 years old, and they had been
landmark years for everyone concerned with the problem of alcoholism.
Thanks in large part to A.A.’s growth and success, the public was
increasingly knowledgeable about the illness, a wide variety of
professional resources were available to the sick alcoholic; and thousands
of drunks were getting sober, many before their lives had been devastated
by alcoholism.
Almost 30 years later, the A.A. message has been carried to 150
countries, with a worldwide membership of approximately two million.
Organizations patterned after A.A. have made “recovery” a buzz word and
the phrase “twelfth-stepping” part of the common vocabulary. A.A. is
acclaimed by some as one of the significant social movements of the 20th
century. And there are voices —both within and outside of A.A.—shouting
that with such an outstanding record of achievement in the public eye, the
Fellowship has outgrown the need for anonymity.
Why, then, does Alcoholics Anonymous hold firmly to the tradition? In
pragmatic terms, because it serves A.A. today as effectively as it has
done for more than 60 years.
Anonymity Protects the Newcomer
On the practical level, anonymity protects the newcomer. In a society
that regarded alcoholism as a moral issue and scorned the weak-willed
drunkard, the founding members clung to anonymity as their lifeline.
Today, even though alcoholism is recognized as an illness and the stigma
has lessened greatly, the individual alcoholic’s own feelings of fear,
shame, and guilt are as strong as ever. A.A.’s promise of anonymity may be
the only thing that allows a sick and shaking alcoholic to feel safe
enough to pick up the phone or walk into an A.A. meeting and take the
first halting steps toward recovery. Without it, many who need A.A. might
never enter the door.
The individual alone decides just how much personal anonymity to
observe with family, friends and employers, and with other A.A. members as
well as.
“Twelve Points to Assure Our Future”
The Twelve Traditions were first disseminated to the Fellowship in
April 1946, when Bill W. introduced “Twelve Points to Assure Our Future”
(now known as the long form of the Traditions). “Nobody invented
Alcoholics Anonymous,” he wrote. “It grew. Trial and error has produced a
rich experience. Little by little we have been adopting the lessons of
that experience, first as policy and then as Tradition.”
Point number eleven set forth A.A.’s public relations policy: “Our
relations with the outside world should be characterized by modesty and
anonymity. We think A.A. ought to avoid sensational advertising. Our
public relations should be guided by the principle of attraction rather
than promotion. There is never need to praise ourselves. We feel it better
to let our friends recommend us.”
Anonymity first baffled, then impressed, the media. Bill wrote in 1946
that “almost every newspaper reporter who covers us complains, at first,
of the difficulty of writing his story without names. But he quickly
forgets this difficulty when he realizes that here is a group of people
who care nothing for personal gain.... Therefore, the journalist writes a
friendly piece, never a routine job. It is enthusiastic writing because
the reporter feels that way himself.” (Grapevine, 3/46)
In point number twelve, Bill explained the core meaning of anonymity:
“And finally, we of Alcoholics Anonymous believe that the principle of
anonymity has an immense spiritual significance. It reminds us that we are
to place principles before personalities; that we are actually to practice
a humble modesty. This to the end that our great blessings may never spoil
us; that we shall forever live in thankful contemplation of him who
presides over us all.”
The Lessons of Experience
Humility has never come easily to alcoholics. A.A.’s founding members,
with no traditional guidelines to follow, learned through a painful
process of trial and error that success could be the greatest danger to
their sobriety and to the budding Fellowship. Some members who returned to
their old ways of power-grabbing and attention-getting got drunk again,
tarnishing the Fellowship’s reputation. And in the long run, even when
solidly sober A.A.s sought public recognition “for the good of A.A.,”
Alcoholics Anonymous paid a heavy price.
In the January 1955 Grapevine, Bill W. described the devastating
results of “the pursuit of power, prestige, public honors and money—the
same implacable urges that when frustrated once caused us to drink; the
same forces that are today ripping the globe apart at its
seams....Gradually we saw that the unity, the effectiveness—yes, even the
survival—of A.A. would always depend upon our continued willingness to
sacrifice our personal ambitions and desires for the common safety and
welfare. Just as sacrifice meant survival for the individual, so did
sacrifice mean unity and survival for the group and for A.A.’s entire
Fellowship.” Always the storyteller, Bill related striking examples of how
the short-term good holds the potential for long-term disaster.
A noted ball player sobered up in A.A., and because his comeback was so
spectacular he got tremendous press coverage, giving A.A. the credit for
his recovery. “Alcoholics flocked in. We loved this.” Bill W. himself hit
the road, giving personal interviews in the name of A.A. “For two or three
years I guess I was A.A.’s number one anonymity breaker.” Everyone
believed that anonymity was important, of course, but it seemed at the
time that if circumstances were favorable, exceptions could be made.
More members followed Bill’s example, shedding anonymity “for the good
of A.A.” One member undertook widespread alcohol education, using her full
name and citing A.A. membership. “The results were immediate....The public
understanding of alcoholism increased, the stigma on drunks lessened, and
A.A. got new members. Surely there could be nothing wrong with that.
“But there was. For the sake of this short-term benefit, we were taking
on a future liability of huge and menacing proportions.” An A.A. member
began to publish a magazine devoted to the cause of Prohibition, using the
A.A. name to attack the evils of whiskey. Then a liquor trade association
proposed that a member take on a job of education, warning people that too
much alcohol was harmful, and that certain people couldn’t drink at all.
Of course, the A.A. member had to break anonymity, inevitably creating the
impression that A.A. was engaging in “education, liquor-trade style.”
Developments such as these pointed up dramatically the dangers of using
the A.A. name for any purpose other than anonymously carrying the message.
The more valuable the A.A. name, the more alluring the temptation. Within
a few years, Bill and other anonymity-breaking members knew that they must
step out of the spotlight or A.A. itself would not survive.
The Washingtonians
About a hundred years earlier, a similar movement aimed at helping
alcoholics had flourished, then floundered, essentially for the lack of
unifying spiritual principles. In April 1840, six drinking friends got
together in Chase’s Tavern in Baltimore and made a decision to stop
drinking together. They called themselves the Washingtonians, and the
fledgling organization had one aim: “the reclamation of drunkards.” Within
a year they had reformed 1,000 drunks and had 5,000 other members and
friends; within a few more years, membership had swelled to several
hundred thousand. But the Washingtonians did not have a body of tradition
to unify its purpose. Its leaders were very much in the public eye, and
soon became embroiled in political causes and in the temperance movement.
By the end of 1847, the Washingtonians had all but vanished.
Renouncing Public Recognition
Informed by these lessons of history, by 1950, when the Twelve
Traditions were adopted by the Fellowship as a whole, A.A.s had learned
the value of renouncing power and prestige and living in genuine humility.
Members—with remarkably few exceptions—have stayed out of the limelight as
individuals and turned down public recognition of their A.A. affiliation.
Over a period of years, Bill W. was offered a great deal of public
recognition as the co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. (Dr. Bob S., the
other co-founder, died in 1950.) Bill declined awards from several
colleges, turned down the inclusion of his name and personal history in
Who’s Who in America, said no to a Time magazine story that would have
placed his picture on the cover, and refused the Lasker Award (which was
given to the A.A. Fellowship instead). In 1954, Bill was offered, and
turned down, an honorary degree of Doctor of Laws from Yale University.
His reasons for doing so, set forth in a letter dated February 2, 1954 to
then university secretary Reuben A. Holden, still hold true as watchwords
for the new millennium:
“Were I to accept, the near term benefit to Alcoholics Anonymous and to
legions who still suffer our malady would, no doubt, be worldwide and
considerable. I am sure that such a potent endorsement would greatly
hasten public approval of A.A. everywhere. Therefore, none but the most
compelling of reasons could prompt my decision to deny Alcoholics
Anonymous an opportunity of this dimension.
“Now this is the reason. The Tradition of Alcoholics Anonymous—our only
means of self-government—entreats each member to avoid all that particular
kind of personal publicity or distinction which might link his name with
our society in the general public mind. A.A.’s Tradition Twelve reads as
follows: ‘Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions,
ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.’
“Because we have already had much practical experience with this vital
principle, it is today the view of every thoughtful A.A. member that if,
over the years ahead, we practice this anonymity absolutely, it will
guarantee our effectiveness and unity by heavily restraining those to whom
public honors and distinctions are but the natural stepping-stones to
dominance and personal power.
“Like other men and women, we A.A.s look with deep apprehension upon
the vast power struggle about us, a struggle in myriad forms that invades
every level, tearing society apart. I think we A.A.s are fortunate to be
acutely aware that such forces must never be ruling among us, lest we
perish altogether.
“The Tradition of personal anonymity and no honors at the public level
is our protective shield. We dare not meet the power temptation naked.”
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