Tradition Twelve
"Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever
reminding us to place principles before personalities."
THE spiritual substance of anonymity is sacrifice. Because A.A.'s
Twelve Traditions repeatedly ask us to give up personal desires for the
common good, we realize that the sacrificial spirit--well symbolized by
anonymity--is the foundation of them all. It is A.A.'s proved
willingness to make these sacrifices that gives people their high
confidence in our future.
But in the beginning, anonymity was not born of confidence; it was the
child of our early fears. Our first nameless groups of alcoholics were
secret societies. New prospects could find us only through a few
trusted friends. The bare hint of publicity, even for our work, shocked
us. Though ex-drinkers, we still thought we had to hide from public
distrust and contempt.
When the Big Book appeared in 1939, we called it "Alcoholics
Anonymous." Its foreword mad this revealing statement: "It is important
that we remain anonymous because are too few, at present, to handle the
overwhelming number of personal appeals which may result from this
publication. Being mostly business or professional folk, we could not
well carry on our occupations in such an event." Between these lines,
it is easy to read our fear that large numbers of incoming people might
break our anonymity wide open.
As the A.A. groups multiplied, so did anonymity problems. Enthusiastic
over the spectacular recovery of a brother alcoholic, we'd sometimes
discuss those intimate and harrowing aspects of his case meant for his
sponsor's ear alone. The aggrieved victim would then rightly declare
that his trust had been broken. When such stories got into circulation
outside of A.A., the loss of confidence in our anonymity promise was
sever. It frequently turned people from us. Clearly, every A.A.
member's name--and story, too---had to be confidential, if he wished.
This was our first lesson in the practical application of anonymity.
With characteristic intemperance, however, some of our newcomers cared
not at all for secrecy. They wanted to shout A.A. from the housetops,
and did. Alcoholics barely dry rushed about bright-eyed, buttonholing
anyone who would listen tot heir stories. Others hurried to place
themselves before microphones and cameras. Sometimes, they got
distressingly drunk and let their groups down with a bang. They had
changed from A.A. members into A.A. show-offs.
This phenomenon of contrast really set us thinking. Squarely before us
was the question "How anonymous should an A.A. member be?" Our growth
made it plain that we couldn't be a secret society, but it was equally
plain that we couldn't be a vaudeville circuit, either. The charting of
a safe path between these extremes took a long time.
As a rule, the average newcomer wanted his family to know immediately
what he was trying to do. He also wanted to tell others who had tried
to help him--his doctor, his minister, and close friends. As he gained
confidence, he felt it right to explain his new way of life to his
employer and business associates. When opportunities to be helpful came
along, he found he could talk easily about A.A. to almost anyone. These
quiet disclosures helped him to lose his fear of the alcoholic stigma,
and spread the news of A.A.'s existence in his community. Many a new
man and woman came to A.A. because of such conversations. Though not in
the strict letter of anonymity, such communications were well within
its spirit.
But it became apparent that the word-of-mouth method was too limited.
Our work, as such, needed to be publicized. The A.A. groups would have
to reach quickly as many despairing alcoholics as they could.
Consequently, many groups began to hold meetings which were open to
interested friends and the public, so that the average citizen could
see for himself just what A.A. was all about. The response to these
meetings was warmly sympathetic. Soon, groups began to receive requests
for A.A. speakers to appear before civic organizations, church groups,
and medical societies. Provided anonymity was maintained on these
platforms, and reporters present were cautioned against the use of
names or pictures, the result was fine.
Then came our first few excursions into major publicity, which were
breathtaking. Cleveland's Plain Dealer articles about us ran that
town's membership from a few into hundreds overnight. The news stories
of Mr. Rockefeller's dinner for Alcoholics Anonymous helped double our
total membership in a year's time. Jack Alexander's famous Saturday
Evening Post piece made A.A. a national institution. Such tributes as
these brought opportunities for still more recognition. Other
newspapers and magazines wanted A.A. stories. Film companies wanted to
photograph us. Radio, and finally television, besieged us with requests
for appearances. What should we do?
As this tide offering top public approval swept in, we realized that it
could do us incalculable good or great harm. Everything would depend
upon how it was channeled. We simply couldn't afford to take the chance
of letting self-appointed members present themselves as messiahs
representing A.A. before the whole public. The promoter instinct in us
might be our undoing. If even one publicly got drunk, or was lured into
using A.A.'s name for his own purposes, the damage might be
irreparable. At this altitude (press, radio, films, and television),
anonymity--100 percent anonymity--was the only possible answer. Here,
principles would have to come before personalities, without exception.
These experiences taught us that anonymity is real humility at work. It
is an all-pervading spiritual quality which today keynotes A.A. life
everywhere. Moved by the spirit of anonymity, we try to give up our
natural desires for personal distinction as A.A. members both among
fellow alcoholics and before the general public. As we lay aside these
very human aspirations, we believe that each of us takes part in the
weaving of a protective mantle which covers our whole Society and under
which we may grown and work in unity.
We are sure that humility, expressed by anonymity, is the greatest
safeguard that Alcoholics Anonymous can ever have.
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