But here on Earth, addicts and alcoholics recover in the most mundane of manners: they accept their problem, assume responsibility, and change their lives, as I found in years of research and hundreds of interviews for my book, The Soul of Recovery: Uncovering the Spiritual Dimension in the Treatment of Addictions (Oxford University Press, 2002). Many do so through 12-step fellowships such as Alcoholics Anonymous or other groups that, basically, help members achieve personal transformation through simple and universal spiritual methods: honesty, acceptance, responsibility, prayer and meditation, and service. Other groups, such as Women for Sobriety or Secular Organizations for Sobriety, are more secular and operate without AA’s “higher power.” At the other end of the spectrum, thousands if not millions of people curb or stop deadly habits with traditional religion, sometimes translated into self-help vernacular. These large and diverse groups of people share basic beliefs: personal accountability, a program of change, and a refusal to blame, solely, genes or biology.

During the 2002-2003 season, the struggle to live along these lines was seen nightly on such shows as “ER,” “The West Wing,” “Judging Amy” and “Law & Order.” In each, a major character, or even several, was trying to abstain and start anew. “The Jury,” on Masterpiece Theater, had two of its twelve jurors juggling romance and recovery.

These and other shows offered nuanced, painful, and accurate images of people struggling to stop drinking or taking drugs, to stay stopped and to shape a new life. Characters attend or neglect support group meetings; they heed or ignore the useful advice of more experienced peers in recovery; their friends and family, with a mix of hope and desperation, encourage them in their reformation.

ER’s John Carter and Abby Lockhart spar and hug over their recoveries. On “Judging Amy,” Amy’s prodigal cousin Kyle consults, before making major decisions, with his grouchy 12-step sponsor, who recites helpful, if wearisome, AA slogans and wisdom. On “The Jury,” a character seeks advice, after a support group meeting, regarding his affection for a married fellow juror. Even comedies have captured elements, such as the common practice of recovered addicts to make amends for their past failures. On an old episode of “Seinfeld,” George Costanza yells at a rival who has wronged him, “You’re a (recovering) alcoholic, you have to apologize.”

The major failing on the small screen has always been the general grimness of the characters’ recovery. A stock scene over the years has been of a character, after weeks of struggle, having that drink or drug in defiant or resigned solitude. At best, we see Det. Lennie Briscoe on “Law & Order” referring to his recovery with sour gratitude.

It’s not an inviting image, but it’s an old one. In the 1962 film, “Days of Wine and Roses,” Jack Lemmon loses everything before the film ends with him telling his tale to a smoke-filled room of ex-rummies. Many people retain that joyless image of life after addiction. One reason is that we know little about the lives of people who have been sober for years. Almost all the research concerns people in or shortly after treatment, a deficit the National Institutes of Health could remedy.

While many addicts do struggle to stay clean, not all relapse and many enjoy a new way of life. As many friends or relatives know, the hallmarks of a person’s successful recovery, regardless of the route, are gratitude and maturity. A friend and colleague put it more simply when he told me that the signs of a comfortable recovery are “smiles and easy postures.”
Of course, actual recovery — the resumption of responsibilities, the reunion with family and friends, and the retrieval of self — may be less entertaining than relapse, bitterness, and self-destruction. Some movies, at least, have captured both the manic early joy of recovery — “Clean & Sober” with Michael Keaton — and the enduring satisfaction of becoming a useful member of society — “My Name is Bill W.” with James Woods.

TV shows have captured the widespread susceptibility to alcoholism and the generally egalitarian nature of 12-step and other groups. On “The West Wing,” both the vice president and the president’s chief of staff attend AA. “Hill Street Blues” did the same 20 years ago, when the captain played by Daniel J. Travanti in the three-piece suit was also a recovered alcoholic. A troubled subordinate who was mandated to meetings is surprised, and cheered, to see his boss there as well.

These televised truths also counter the other type of news accounts, such as John Stossel’s April 2003 ABC show on addictions. These accounts misrepresent 12-step and similar recovery philosophies as ideologies that exonerate the victim and blame the genes. While scientists and policy-makers may discuss addiction, almost always, as a “brain disease,” recovery groups of all stripes emphasize that recovery is up to the addict, even if neurochemistry or genes play a role. Members may find help in the group, in a higher power, in will power, reason, or new values. But, as seen on television, each alcoholic or addict has to choose, again and again, to get better.

Christopher D. Ringwald ( This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it ), the author of The Soul of Recovery: Uncovering the Spiritual Dimension in the Treatment of Addictions, is a senior writer for Advocates for Human Potential and a visiting scholar at The Sage Colleges in Albany, NY.

This article is published in Counselor,The Magazine for Addiction Professionals, December 2003, v.4, n.6, pp. 56-57.

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3.25 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."