Coffee and Cigarettes

Recovering alcoholics and their drugs.

It's no secret that alcohol and cigarettes go together. And it is common knowledge--and an AA truism--that recovering alcoholics take to strong black coffee like ducks to water.

Now comes a study of Alcoholics Anonymous participants in Nashville, to be published in the October issue of Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research, which verifies the obvious, with a twist. Of 289 AA members interviewed by Dr. Peter R. Martin and coworkers at the Vanderbilt Addiction Center, 56.9% of respondents were cigarette smokers (approximately 20% of all adult Americans smoke cigarettes).

When it came to coffee, however, 88.5% of AA attendees were coffee drinkers, and a third of them drank more than 4 cups a day. "The most important finding," said Dr. Martin in a Vanderbilt University press release, "was that not all recovering alcoholics smoke cigarettes while almost all drink coffee."

Does all that coffee guzzling and cigarette smoking help or hinder recovering alcoholics in their quest for sobriety? The answer is: nobody quite knows. Dr. Martin, professor of psychiatry and pharmacology at Vanderbilt and lead investigator of the study, entitled "Coffee and Cigarette Consumption and Perceived Effects in Recovering Alcoholics Participating in Alcoholics Anonymous in Nashville, TN," put it this way in Science Daily: "Is this behavior simply a way to bond or connect in AA meetings, analogous to the peace pipe among North American Indians, or do constituents of these natural compounds result in pharmacological actions that affect the brain?"

"It's possible that coffee is even a gateway drug, with coffee drinking beginning at about the time persons begin using alcohol," said Robert Swift of the Brown University Medical School. "In addition, a potential negative interaction is coffee's known negative effects on sleep."

Selena Bartlett of the Ernest Gallo Clinic and Research Center of the University of California, San Francisco, offers the same concerns about cigarettes. A reliance on smoking by recovering alcoholics has a biological basis, she believes, and may increase the odds of relapse. In a HealthDay article by Steven Reinberg, Bartlett said: "My prediction would be that the relapse rates among smokers is higher." Since nicotine and alcohol addiction are so often found together, Bartlett thinks they should also be treated together, and is studying the anti-smoking drug Chantix for this purpose. "The drug inhibits the effect of nicotine, and by doing that, you may also reduce the euphoric effects of alcohol at the same time," she said. "We already have some evidence that it may work."

Varenicline, currently marketed by Pfizer for smoking cessation under the trade name Chantix, caught the attention of alcohol researchers when it dramatically curbed drinking in alcohol-preferring rats. The synthetic drug was modeled after a cytosine compound from the European Labumum tree, combined with an alkaloid from the poppy plant. An estimated 85 per cent of alcoholics are also cigarette smokers. (Chantix has lately been implicated, along with a dozen other anti-seizure medications, in suicidal ideation in some patients).

"I think it is important for alcohol researchers and clinicians to know that alcoholics, even those who do not use other illicit drugs, are not just addicted to alcohol, but use other psychotropic drugs like caffeine and nicotine," said Professor Swift of Brown University. "A second important aspect is the finding that rates of smoking are much higher in alcoholics in recovery than in the general population.... Yet, AA tolerates or otherwise does not address smoking in its members."

Dr. Martin said that more detailed analyses of the results will help determine "whether these changes in coffee and cigarette use are predictive of recovery from alcoholism per se."

Photo credit: AA-Carolina.org


alcoholics anonymous smoking nicotine

LSD and Serotonin

Early psychedelic research on alcoholism.

What did LSD do to the brain, exactly, in order to set off the fireworks that so fascinated brain scientists, hippies, and government spies? And why, after years of massive, unauthorized field-testing, so to speak, was there so little evidence implicating LSD as an addictive drug? Powerful as it was, LSD did not show any of the classic attributes of addiction, such as withdrawal or craving, although it was possible to build up a tolerance to its effects with repeated dosings.

Another novel brain chemical, discovered less than a year after Albert Hofmann's discovery of LSD, proved to be a crucial piece of the puzzle.

According to an early theory, the aberrant mental functioning produced by the tiniest dose of LSD was due to interference with normal levels of serotonin in the brain. In 1954, chemists D.W. Woolley and E. Shaw had published an article in Science strongly arguing that serotonin was the likely biochemical basis for major mental disorders. Wooley and Shaw confirmed that the most acutely serotonin-active substance known to man was the ergot derivative known as LSD. LSD’s chemical architecture looked eerily similar to that of serotonin.

While the idea of LSD as a “model” of psychosis did not hold up, the link between serotonin and mental disorders was there all along. The strongly serotonin-mediated mental disorders, researchers ultimately discovered, were depression, drug addiction, and alcoholism.

The psychedelic drugs, new and old, are not only among the most powerful ever discovered, but are also tremendously difficult to study and utilize responsibly. Nonetheless, these drugs have always played an important part of the story, even though they are not addictive. LSD, mescaline, DMT, psilocybin, Ibogaine, ayahuasca—none of these appeal to lab rats as a drug of abuse.

Psychedelics have been exhorted, and occasionally deployed, as specific anti-craving medications for more than 50 years now. The psychedelic experience seems to assist some addicts in their efforts to remain sober and abstinent. However, the risks of casual experimentation with these substances should be obvious. Recent research on Ecstasy only makes this point more emphatically.

In the 1950s, along with Aldous Huxley and others, Al Hubbard came to believe that the more mystical or “transpersonal” experiences LSD sometimes afforded might hold considerable psychotherapeutic potential. With LSD provided by Hubbard, Canadians Abram Hoffer, Ross Mclean, and Humphrey Osmond pursued the idea of LSD as a treatment for alcoholism. In the U.S, Oscar Janiger, Sanford Unger, and others undertook research on LSD and alcoholism on the West Coast.

Throughout this period, there were LSD clinics operating in England and Europe. European LSD therapists tended to use very low doses as an adjunct to traditional psychoanalytic techniques. But North American researchers took a different, bolder approach. When “psychedelic” therapy began to catch on in Canada and the United States, therapists typically gave patients only one or two sessions at very high doses. These early efforts were aimed at producing spontaneous breakthroughs or recoveries in alcoholics through some manner of religious epiphany or inner conversion experience. The only other quasi-medical approach of the day, the Schick Treatment Center’s brand of “aversion therapy,” was not seen to produce very compelling long-term recovery rates, and subsequently fell out of favor.

In this light, the early successes with LSD therapy, sometimes claimed to be in the 50-75 per cent range, looked noteworthy indeed. However, the design and criteria of the LSD/alcoholism studies varied so widely that it has never been possible to draw definitive conclusions about the work that was done, except to say that LSD therapy seemed to be strikingly effective for certain alcoholics. Some patients were claiming that two or three trips on LSD were worth years of conventional psychotherapy—a claim not heard again until the advent of Prozac thirty years later.

“I’ve taken lysergic acid several times, and have collected considerable information about it,” Bill Wilson, the co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, disclosed in a private letter written in 1958. “At the moment, it can only be used for research purposes. It would certainly be a huge misfortune if it ever got loose in the general public without a careful preparation as to what the drug is and what the meaning of its effects may be.” Like many others, Wilson was excited by LSD’s potential as a treatment for chronic alcoholism. Even Hollywood was hip to the new therapy. Cary Grant, among others, took LSD under psychiatric supervision and pronounced it immensely helpful as a tool for psychological insight. Andre Previn, Jack Nicholson, and James Coburn agreed. (It could be argued that the human potential movement began here).

But the early addiction research was stuck in an impossible situation. Some of the best tools available to scientists for studying the workings of the human brain were the very drugs that were increasingly prohibited under state and federal law--drugs like heroin, cocaine, PCP, LSD, and marijuana.

By the early 1970s, meaningful research involving any of these substances had virtually ground to a halt, and grants for clinical work had dried up completely.

--Excerpted from The Chemical Carousel: What Science Tells Us About Beating Addiction © Dirk Hanson 2008, 2009.


Photo Credit: Albert Hofmann Foundation

Related posts: Ibogaine and Addiction

Serotonin and Dopamine: A Primer




alcoholics anonymous drugs

Does AA Work?

Bill W., co-founder of AA








Adapted from The Chemical Carousel: What Science Tells Us About Beating Addiction © Dirk Hanson 2008, 2009.


Despite recent progress in the medical understanding of addictive disease, the amateur self-help group known as Alcoholics Anonymous, and its affiliate, Narcotics Anonymous, are still regarded by many as the most effective mode of treatment for the ex-addict who is serious about keeping his or her disease in remission. A.A. and N.A. now accept anyone who is chemically dependent on any addictive drug—those battles are history. In today’s A.A. and N.A., an addict is an addict. A pragmatic recognition of pan-addiction makes a hash of strict categories, anyway.

Nonetheless, under the biochemical paradigm of addiction, we have to ask whether the common A.A.-style of group rehabilitation, and its broader expression in the institutionalized form of the Minnesota Model, are nothing more than brainwashing combined with a covert pitch for some of that old-time religion. As Dr. Arnold Ludwig has phrased it, “Why should alcoholism, unlike any other ‘disease,’ be regarded as relatively immune to medical or psychiatric intervention and require, as AA principles insist, a personal relationship with a Higher Power as an essential element for recovery?”

The notion is reminiscent of earlier moralistic approaches to the problem, often couched in strictly religious terms. It conjures up the approach sometimes taken by fundamentalist Christians, in which a conversion experience in the name of Jesus is considered the only possible route to rehabilitation. But if all this is so, why do so many of the hardest of hard scientists in the field continue to recommend A.A. meetings as part of treatment? Desperation? Even researchers and therapists who don’t particularly like anything about the A.A. program often reluctantly recommend it, in the absence of any cheap alternatives.

In 1939, Bill Wilson and the fellowship of non-drinkers that had coalesced around him published the basic textbook of the movement, Alcoholics Anonymous. The book retailed for $3.50, a bit steep for the times, so Bill W. compensated by having it printed on the thickest paper available—hence its nickname, the “Big Book.” The foreword to the first printing stated: “We are not an organization in the conventional sense of the word. There are no fees or dues whatsoever. The only requirement for membership is an honest desire to stop drinking. We are not allied with any particular faith, sect or denomination, nor do we oppose anyone. We simply wish to be helpful to those who are afflicted.”

In short, it sounded like a recipe for complete disaster: naive, hopeful, objective, beyond politics, burdened with an anarchical structure, no official record
keeping, and a membership composed of anonymous, first-name-only alcoholics.
......................
Amid dozens of case histories of alcoholics, the Big Book contained the original Twelve Steps toward physical and spiritual recovery. There are also Twelve Traditions, the fourth one being, “Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or A.A. as a whole.” As elaborated upon in Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, “There would be real danger should we commence to call some groups ‘wet’ or ‘dry,’ still others ‘Republican’ or ‘Communist’…. Sobriety had to be its sole objective. In all other respects there was perfect freedom of will and action. Every group had the right to be wrong. The unofficial Rule #62 was: “Don’t take yourself too damn seriously!”

As a well-known celebrity in A.A. put it: “In Bill W.’s last talk, he was asked what the most important aspect of the program was, and he said it was the principle of anonymity. It’s the spiritual foundation.” Co-founder Dr. Bob, for his part, believed the essence of the Twelve Steps could be distilled into two words—“love” and “service.” This clearly links the central thrust of A.A. to religious and mystical practices, although it is easily viewed in strictly secular terms, too.

Alcoholics Anonymous recounts a conversation “our friend” had with Dr. C.G. Jung. Once in a while, Jung wrote, “…alcoholics have had what are called vital spiritual experiences…. They appear to be in the nature of huge emotional displacements and rearrangements.” As stated in Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, “Nearly every serious emotional problem can be seen as a case of misdirected instinct. When that happens, our great natural assets, the instincts, have turned into physical and mental liabilities.”

Alcoholics Anonymous asserts that there are times when the addict “has no effective mental defense” against that first drink.

Bill Wilson wrote:
"Some strongly object to the A.A. position that alcoholism is an illness. This concept, they feel, removes moral responsibility from alcoholics. As any A.A. knows, this is far from true. We do not use the concept of sickness to absolve our members from responsibility. On the contrary, we use the fact of fatal illness to clamp the heaviest kind of moral obligation onto the sufferer, the obligation to use A.A.’s Twelve Steps to get well."

This excruciating state of moral and physical sickness—this “incomprehensible demoralization”—is known in A.A. as hitting bottom. “Why is it,” asks Dr. Arnold Ludwig, “that reasonably intelligent men and women remain relatively immune to reason and good advice and only choose to quit drinking when they absolutely must, after so much damage has been wrought? What is there about alcoholism, unlike any other ‘disease’ in medicine except certain drug addictions, that makes being in extremis represent a potentially favorable sign for cure?”

Hitting bottom may come in the form of a wrecked car, a wrecked marriage, a jail term, or simple the inexorable buildup of the solo burden of drug-seeking behavior. While the intrinsically spiritual component of the A.A. program would seem to be inconsistent with the emerging biochemical models of addiction, recall that A.A.’s basic premise has always been that alcoholism and drug addiction are diseases of the body and obsessions of the mind.

When the shocking moment arrives, and the addict hits bottom, he or she enters a “sweetly reasonable” and “softened up” state of mind, as A.A. founder Bill Wilson expressed it. Arnold Ludwig calls this the state of “therapeutic surrender.” It is crucial to everything that follows. It is the stage in their lives when addicts are prepared to consider, if only as a highly disturbing hypothesis, that they have become powerless over their use of addictive drugs. In that sense, their lives have become unmanageable. They have lost control.

A.A.’s contention that there is a power greater than the self can be seen in cybernetic terms—that is to stay, in strictly secular terms. The higher power referred to in A.A. may simply turn out to be the complex dynamics of directed group interaction, i.e., the group as a whole. It is a recognition of holistic processes beyond a single individual—the power of the many over and against the power of one.

“The unit of survival—either in ethics or in evolution—is not the organism or the species,” wrote anthropologist Gregory Bateson, “but the largest system or ‘power’ within which the creature lives.” In behavioral terms, A.A. enshrines this sophisticated understanding as a first principle.

alcoholics anonymous