In the pages of the the February 2017 edition of First Things magazine, Peter Hitchens—brother of the late, legendary atheist Christopher Hitchens—penned an essay (which is well worth reading, in my judgment) titled “The Fantasy of Addiction.” Over the years, I’ve returned to it, turned it over in my mind, and puzzled over why it has stuck with me. I’ve felt compelled to comment on it ever since the first time I read it but haven’t had the right words with which to do so.
On a whim, I decided to read it once again, and I think that my (oppositional) thoughts have settled enough to put in print.
Hitchens’ core thesis is that the concept of “addiction” is nonsensical: “The chief difficulty with the word ‘addiction’ is the idea that it describes a power greater than the will. If it exists in the way we use it and in the way our legal and medical systems assume it exists, then free will has been abolished.”
Quite a bold claim. But it’s wrong—though I understand the temptation to think and to argue such a thing.
Considered reflection on the concept of addiction reveals not that its existence abolishes free will in toto, as Hitchens maintains, but, rather, that it fatally cripples a critical portion of our free will. Anyone who has struggled in vain to not eat the cookies in the cookie jar, or who has tried but failed to refuse a birthday dessert at the office (remember those?), knows something of what this experience is like.
Hitchens’ implicit view seems to be that for there to be true freedom of the will, it must be absolutely unencumbered by any social pressures, psychological forces, biological drives, conscious desires, unconscious longings—anything that can encumber the will, yields a not-truly-free will. And Hitchens must believe this; after all, proponents of the view of addiction against which he argues would maintain that addiction is simply an extremely powerful form of such pressures/forces/drives/desires/longings—one that is so potent that it totally impairs the will in a critical respect, shackling it to the object and outlet of the addiction (e.g., food, sex, drugs, alcohol, etc.). In other words, addiction—which influences behavior quite a lot—is a phenomenon whose difference from those other phenomena—which also influence behavior, though to a lesser degree than does addiction—is one of degree, not kind.
But Hitches disclaims that radical view of free will (which is good, given that it’s obviously false). As social, embodied creatures, the existence and operation of such things are “baked into the ‘freedom’ cake,” so to speak. In other words, our freedom is, of necessity, bounded. Human freedom just is channeled and limited by the fact that we are fleshly, politico-social animals (who can reason and speak as well).
To insist that “true” freedom requires freedom from any influence whatsoever is to insist on an impossible fantasy world: Our freedom is not God’s, Who is the Source and Summit of true human freedom.
Hitchens goes on to acknowledge that such things as social pressure aren’t destructive of free will and that they can have a salutary effect in helping so-called addicts kick their “habits” (as he prefers they be called). As he writes,
supposed “addicts” can and do give up their supposed addictions. It is not only smokers who do this. I also know several formerly very heavy drinkers who have done it, generally because of fears for their health or their professional standing. Even heroin abusers, and gamblers, can and do just stop. Reason has overcome desire.
Consequently, in Hitchens’ view, “the whole idea of ‘addiction,’ as a power greater than will, is overthrown. Once again, if ‘addiction’ exists, these people cannot exist. If they exist, ‘addiction’ cannot exist. Since we know that such people do exist, the riddle is solved.”
But this is a false dichotomy.
It is not that addicts have no freedom at all, across every moment of every day, with respect to every choice they might make. If that were true, then of course no person could recover from his or her addiction—because no person could ever make a choice to take steps to tackle his or her addiction. Everything such a person did would be defined and controlled by his or her addiction—the addiction would run “all the way down.” But people achieve that outcome—freedom from the daily, practical oppression of their addictions—on a daily basis. Therefore, something in Hitchens’ understanding of the nature and scope of addiction must be off.
As I see it, the flaw in Hitchens’ view is that it requires believing that addiction is a completely totalizing phenomenon—i.e., that it structures and determines absolutely every single choice the so-called addict makes, regardless of whether it be directly related to the addiction or not. In other words, for Hitchens, a true addict would be someone whose will is so absolutely and utterly enslaved to and by the addiction such that, even in his more lucid moments—like when he is spatially and psychologically far from the object of his addiction (i.e., not immediately in thrall to it)—he cannot make choices that will eventually help him be free of his compulsive need to “act out” (to use the language of Twelve Step programs). And because no such person exists, “addiction” is a “fantasy.”
But that goes too far.
Addiction does impair the will utterly, yes, but the scope of that impairment is not absolute. Addiction doesn’t penetrate so deeply such that even seemingly unrelated decisions (e.g., the addict’s choice of what breakfast cereal he’ll have in the morning) are simply a necessary function of addiction’s operation. Our addict remains genuinely free in critical respects, most importantly in his ontological core, as a creature made, out of love and for love, in the holy image of Almighty God. That is a freedom that cannot be erased by anything, and it is by having recourse to it that one can find “sustainable relief” from one’s addiction (to use another Twelve Step program phrase).
Hitchens ventures a guess as to why our culture has embraced the current understanding of addiction:
It was the triumph of the Christian religion that for many centuries it managed to become the unreasoning assumption of almost all, built into every spoken and written word, every song, and every building. It was the disaster of the Christian religion that it assumed this triumph would last forever and outlast everything, and so it was ill equipped to resist the challenge of a rival when it came, in this, the century of the self. The Christian religion had no idea that a new power, which I call selfism, would arise. And, having arisen, selfism has easily shouldered its rival aside. In free competition, how can a faith based upon self-restraint and patience compete with one that pardons, unconditionally and in advance, all the self-indulgences you can think of, and some you cannot? That is what the “addiction” argument is most fundamentally about, and why it is especially distressing to hear Christian voices accepting and promoting it, as if it were merciful to call a man a slave, and treat him as if he had no power to resist.
But Man is a slave to sin. St. Paul tells us this very clearly: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Rm. 7:15.) Is there a better, more succinct description of “addiction [to sin]” than that?
The truth is, addiction is more powerful than an addict’s will to resist; millions will testify to that fact. But that doesn’t mean that the whole idea of addiction—given the reality of human freedom—is somehow bunk, or that the situation is hopeless.
Indeed, many have found that very hope through various Twelve Step programs, which shepherd these souls to peace and freedom by inviting them to acknowledge and then to live out the following simple, yet profoundly deep, spiritual truths:
We admitted we were powerless over addictive sexual behavior—that our lives had become unmanageable.
Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God.
Hitchens is right that “the century of the self” poses a major problem. For it is precisely self-reliance—an inability to see everything in life, even our freedom, as a gift from God, Who loved us into being and wants nothing more than to be in a loving relationship with us—that has gotten us into this mess.
Until we re-learn that freedom is only intelligible and effective when it aims at the Good—God Himself—we won’t grasp the reality, and more importantly the limits, of addiction. Freedom and addiction are not at odds; in truth, they are intertwined.
Our idols—of which addiction is one—always enslave us. And it is only by having “no other gods” before the one true God, by “lov[ing] the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might,” (Deut. 6:5), that we can be truly free.
Loved the article Deion! Best to share it to Mr. Hitchens and hopefully get a chance to see what he thinks of your understanding of addiction :)
Nicely put, Deion. Addiction is definitely real, and G-d is the Source by which it can be bested. Addiction is also one of those things that hammers home that we are not mere individuals, as we would be if "selfism" were correct, but part of community. Most people who overcome addiction do so with assistance, whether from one of the 12 step programs you mentions, genuine Aristotelian friendship, the support of a spouse, or of course the Church. Addiction may be thought of as something that an individual cannot choose against, but as you note that does not mean that the addict has no choices. I understand Hitchens' concern, but think you are right in seeing how the existence of addiction does actually point us to a more Christian understanding of the world and our place in it.