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An A.A. member is anyone who considers himself a member. There are no required dues, and lest riches corrupt the fellowship, no one is allowed to contribute more than $300 a year. Instead of using professional therapists, the members help each other; one alcoholic is always on call to come to the aid of another. The treatment is nothing more sophisticated than the gathering together of a dozen or more other alcoholics who share their drinking histories and admit to themselves and each other that they are powerless to control their drinking. Members attend meetings as often as they feel the need. "My name is John," a member will intone at each meeting, "and I am an alcoholic." Says an Atlanta executive who has been a member for 25 years: "I am deeply convinced that A.A. is the only way. Doctors cannot cure alcoholism because it is not simply a sickness of the body. Psychiatrists cannot do it because it is not simply a sickness of the mind, and ministers cannot do it because it is not a sickness of the spirit alone. You must treat all three areas, and that is what A.A. does."*
Easy Cop-Out. Even A.A. requires the alcoholic's commitment to change. Many workers in the field are now trying to downplay the idea—espoused by Marty Mann 30 years ago—that alcoholism is a disease. The label may make problem drinking worse by absolving the drinker of responsibility. An overemphasis on the psychological causes of alcoholism can have a similar effect. "A search for the roots of the personal problems that cause a person to become addicted can become an easy cop-out," says Psychiatrist Robert Moore. "The classic therapy game becomes a technique of protecting his alcoholism."
What about the alcoholic who does not want to change—or does not even recognize his problem? For many there is still no answer, no lifeline that can be thrown to them. For many others, however, there is new hope in an old and hitherto unacceptable technique—arm twisting by the boss. Recognizing that alcoholic employees are costing them countless billions a year, many companies are investing money and effort in affirmative action. Since the late '40s, when the first industrial programs started, some 200 firms, including General Motors, Hughes Aircraft and even Hiram Walker, the distiller, have jumped on the bandwagon, the majority of them in the past five years. Many of the firms have written the plans into their union contracts.
Although the programs are costly, they actually save money in the long run because they can salvage valuable careers.
An alcoholic employee is absent 2½ times as often as a nonalcoholic. Indeed, he is partially absent even when he is working, often demonstrating much less efficiency than his nonalcoholic colleagues. If he is fired, the investment that the company has put into his training is lost altogether. "The company of any size that says it does not have an alcohol problem is kidding itself," says Ray Kelly, an Illinois state mental health official. In any typical group of workers, 3% to 4% are likely to be disruptive drinkers.