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By contrast, Sasha says, he is enthusiastic about A.A.'s methods. "The beginning for me was when I learned that the word alcoholic could be said out loud, that people would even applaud. With alcoholism, you have to admit despair before you can experience victory."
Volodya has known his share of despair. Having drunk heavily since his teens, he says, "I thought I would never be able to stop. I went to clinics where I would dry out, but I could never stay sober. I felt I did not have what it takes to help myself. And then came the group. It was like a miracle."
It is an interesting choice of words in an officially atheist society, and A.A.'s teaching that members must learn to rely on a "higher power" creates an inevitable conflict for Moscow Beginners. Some of the members are uncomfortable with the group's religious tone; others, understandably, are afraid to tamper with the organization's time-tested tenets.
"My name is Mikhail, and I'm an alcoholic," says the next speaker. Sober only a short while, Mikhail, 41, stayed home from work on his last birthday out of fear that his co-workers would insist on celebrating the event with a bottle. "I don't want to talk about my drinking tonight. I just want to thank you for the chance to express myself honestly. Until I came here, I had never done that before."
Already the group is reaching out to others. Some of the Moscow Beginners spend Saturday afternoons visiting inmates in two of the city's alcoholic prisons, and this month a clinic using American treatment methods and run jointly by Soviets and Americans will open for outpatients. It will be the first alternative to the state-run program. Beyond that, according to Volodya, "people are writing to us from all over the country."
Tonight, though, it is 33-year-old Slava who is in trouble. "I have to tell you something this evening that I am not proud of," he says hesitantly. "I drank today. And my wife left me. Please don't abandon me. You know what I am going through. Forgive me for betraying you."
"Betrayed is a strong word," says Liuba, 35, a factory worker who during her drinking days found herself waking up in the beds of men she never remembered meeting. "It's better not to use it. We might not have drunk today, but only at the end of the day can any of us say that with confidence."
"You know," says Slava, "after being here and talking, I feel peaceful inside. I'm sure I'll get better; with the help of my friends, I will get better."
"Until I joined this group, I felt isolated," says Sasha afterward. "Now I am helped by my friends -- and by my strength and my example, I can be of help to them." By helping others help themselves, Moscow Beginners is rebuilding the sense of self-worth that society had stripped from them. In a limited way, the A.A. style could turn out to be just what the doctor ordered for a society that is trying to humanize itself. Says Volodya: "What I like about A.A. is that it ends our dependence on a cure from above. We are rediscovering how to help ourselves, and how to help each other. In this country we had forgotten how to do that."