New Study Casts Doubt on Current "Despair" Models of Addiction

The recent Hari/Hart/Lewis hypothesis that addiction is not primarily metabolic or genetic, but rather the result of "despair" or "sociological conditions" or "flawed learning," takes a major hit in a new report appearing in The National Bureau of Economic Research. The study suggests that "changes in economic conditions account for less than one-tenth of the rise in drug and opioid-involved mortality rates." 

Jason Schwartz at Addiction & Recovery News does a deep dive into the flawed thinking behind the new (old?) sociological views of addiction here.

The Manifesto for Children of Alcoholics

Parental heavy drinking affects everyone.

The British House of Commons recently issued a manifesto timed to coincide with International Children of Alcoholics Week. The manifesto was co-written by children of alcoholics, policy analysts, and representatives from charities, medical groups, and other interest groups. The ten-point plan makes the following demands:

        —Take responsibility for children of alcoholics.               
        —Create a national strategy for COAs
        —Properly fund local support for COAs
        —Increase availability of support for families battling addiction to alcohol
        —Boost education and awareness for children
        —Boost education and training for those with a responsibility for children
        —Develop a plan to change public attitudes
        —Revise the national strategy to tackle alcoholism to focus on price and availability
        —Curtail the promotion of alcohol – especially to children
        —Take responsibility for reducing rates of alcoholism

The complete manifesto can be downloaded here. You can visit the group's site, the National Association for Children of Alcoholics, by clicking here.

Take It Easy

One day at a time.

From Failure to Enthusiasm

Guest Post

By Andy

"Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." —Winston Churchill

One of the reasons I love this quote, is because for many of us, being able to keep our enthusiasm up in the midst of trying times can be very difficult to achieve. But once you figure out how to never lose it, no matter how hard life can get, it will mark the difference between giving up and succeeding. I love this quote and remind myself every time that sobriety success is shaped by my attitude. In this post I’m going to take you through my personal sobriety journey.

The Addict/Alcoholic

When I was 4 years old my parents made the life changing decision of moving from Colombia to California. It was 1986 and the situation in my country was scary and very violent. Upon arrival in California my parents took on many jobs to be able to provide for me and my siblings; they worked really hard to make sure we would have a life full of opportunities.

The great thing about latinos is that culturally not only are we very hard working people, but we are also very happy people who love to party. And of course, no Colombian party is ever complete without that anise-flavored drink called Aguardiente. Not that all Colombian’s are drunks, it’s just simply something they enjoy once in awhile, when there’s a good excuse to celebrate.
The first time I got drunk was at a family friend’s house party when I was nine years old. I was always a pretty mischievous kid, therefore at the party my cousin and I played a game to see who could steal more shots of aguardiente without getting caught.

After a few shots I was feeling very different inside. I felt comfortable, more secure, I danced salsa with my sister and all my cousins, I felt great. From that night on I drank every time I had the chance.
At 15 a friend introduced me to marijuana. Although today teen drug use is declining, back when I was a teenager the statistic was increasing and at 19 I attended a party and some guys introduced me to meth and so began the downward spiral. At 23 I found myself incarcerated in Idaho on drug related charges for two years.

You might be wondering why I left so many parts of the story untold. Well, I’m not writing this to reminisce on war stories, being eight years sober now I believe myself to be a bit wiser and truth be told, a little tired of recounting my crazy times. Jail in Idaho was the starting point of my recovery, and that is the part of THIS story I really want share.

AA and NA

When you are in prison, any activity that can take you out of your cell is welcomed with open arms. So when I was told that I could attend the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings I did not hesitate. At the time I was not interested in recovery, in fact, I thought I didn't have a drinking problem or substance abuse problem. I just needed to do something else than read in bed. So I attended meetings without participating. It took three months of going to these meetings to realize that I might have a slight drinking and drug problem.

One day, a fellow inmate told the story of how he hit rock bottom. He was a high level accountant abusing drugs in order to deal with the insane amount of work and stress at his job, until one day, having suicidal thoughts, he got drunk and drove his car into a local store. He lost his job, his wife filed for divorce, his family had lost hope (this wasn’t his first run in with the law). He shared that apart from coming to terms with his drug and alcohol problems he had also realized that he also had an anger management problem, he concluded that “rage spawns from anger, anger spawns from hurt, hurt spawns from getting your feelings hurt.”

Like I said before, I thought I didn't have a problem. I was convinced that I was fine, that I wasn’t hurting anyone. But thanks to that inmate sharing his story and his realization my eyes were opened: I had hurt the only person I had to live with for the rest of my life and the damage I had done to myself needed to be repaired. I had a drinking problem, a drug problem, a personality problem...a life problem.

The Workaholic

Prison was everything but easy, but attending the AA and NA meetings and the friendships I built helped me get through it. Once I was released I had a new sense of responsibility, I knew I needed to find a job, and be able to provide for myself. But it wasn't easy. Having a criminal record made it a challenge to find a good job, so I struggled for months. And when I finally found one, I was unmotivated and feeling trapped in a routine. Despite attending my AA and NA meetings on a regular basis, I relapsed. I lost my job and life seemed unbearable, hence my voluntary check in to a rehab center in Idaho.

After 3 months in rehab I moved back to California where I landed a job selling knock-off cologne. Being closer to my family helped me immensely, therefore my motivation was higher than ever. I would wake up at 5:00 am to pick-up my co-workers and go to gas stations, shopping center parking lots, flea markets, etc. to sell perfume out of the trunk of my car. After a few months I had become very good at selling. I had learned how to approach strangers, how to pitch my product, make people feel comfortable and how to overcome rejection. The job was purely commission based, thus if I didn’t sell, I didn’t make money. There is a great feeling about making cash on a sale that I cannot really describe. It is a feeling of accomplishment, it is a feeling that I wanted to replicate time and time again. I was determined to keep working harder and harder.

Months went by and next thing I knew I was training more than 10 people to sell perfumes and other beauty products on the street. I had my own office, had ads running in the paper, had a secretary taking calls, etc. In that year I had lost ten pounds, I had zero friends, and I barely saw my family.

After a long conversation with a friend he presented me with a book by Jeffery Combs called Psychologically Unemployable (Jeffery is also a recovering addict). One of the most important things said is that you should never confuse obsession with passion. After reading it and studying it for a few weeks, I understood that I had simply traded drugs and alcohol for work. It was an addiction and it wasn't any better. I was getting physically sick and emotionally unstable from the pressure I was putting on myself.

The Entrepreneur

I sold my perfume business and moved into my parents house. It was really important in my road to recovery to have their support. After a month I got a job at Target, so I could help my parents pay the bills and have some sort of income. I had no passion for that job whatsoever, and I was completely unmotivated in that point of my life. I couldn't find balance between success and a healthy, happy life. Being afraid of relapsing I started attending weekly AA/NA meetings. I acquired a really good sponsor that I am very grateful for. He gave me the task of taking a class at the local community college.

At the time I was not very happy to do the task. I felt old and I thought there was no point in taking a measly course. I just wanted to go to work, do my job and pay my bills, that was it. Nevertheless, I forced myself to take a class. The class I took was called Introduction to Website Development (HTML). I liked computers and websites, so I thought, why not give it a shot?

You should have seen my bedroom after three months in the class. I had stacks of books and papers about HTML and website design. I found myself at the computer for hours, coding, creating, learning. Finally, one day I thought to myself that it would be great if I could make a business out of my new acquired skill.

Nine years later I co-own a successful digital marketing agency. I have a great team that I feel are like my family, in fact, my brother is part of it. We are based in Medellin, Colombia, which means my life has taken a 180 degree turn. 30 years ago my parents left Colombia to give my siblings and I a better life, now I am back with that better life.

I still go to meeting and try to keep in touch with some of the good friends I made on my way to recovery. We always give each other support during rough times. Being sober has become a part of my life now. My attitude defines me and I do not let anything take control of my emotions, it only gets easier with time. I have learned to attend dinner parties and skip the wine; to dance with my colombian friends and kindly decline those beers and still enjoy myself. In regards to my business, I didn't let myself get lost while pursuing success. I have learned that balance is what makes you successful. Being able to work hard for months enjoying what you do, but also taking a weekend off to recharge has proven to be a critical part of my work-life balance. I feel very fortunate because I went out and found something I was passionate about, put my skills and knowledge to work and built a business. Sobriety, just like building a business, does not happen overnight, one has to commit to it and work hard.

It’s Not All About You

When you are in the process of recovering, every single thing you do to maintain your sobriety seems to be about you. Every one of the 12 steps you complete, every single task or piece of homework your sponsor gives you, every book or article you read is all about you and your recovery. But after a while you realize, there's a bigger picture. And going back to that Winston Churchill quote, "Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm," learning that failing is just a part of the process. Behind the most successful people are years of failure, even if it's on their way to sobriety or on their way to being a successful entrepreneur. The issue is not failing, since we all will go through it, it's to never lose enthusiasm. Good luck and thank you for reading my story.

Graphics: https://pocketperspectives.com

The Great Gateway Theory

Smoke pot, shoot smack?

The Great Gateway Hypothesis has had a long, controversial run as a central tenet of American anti-drug campaigns. As put forth by Denise B. Kandell of Columbia University and others in 1975, and refined and redefined ever since, the gateway theory essentially posits that soft drugs like alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana—particularly marijuana—make users more likely to graduate to hard drugs like cocaine and heroin. What is implied is that gateway drugs cause users to move to harder drugs, by some unknown mechanism. The gateway theory forms part of the backbone of the War on Drugs. By staying tough on marijuana use, policy makers believe they will have much broader impacts on hard drug use down the road.

This notion is virtually an article of faith in the drug prevention community. It just feels intuitively right: Scratch a junkie, and you’ll find a younger, embryonic pot smoker or furtive teenage drinker. Ergo, prevent teen pot smoking, and you will block the blossoming of a multitude of future hard drug addicts.

For years, the gateway hypothesis has had its share of contentious opponents. The countervailing theory is known primarily as CLA, for Common Liability to Addiction, the genetically based approach that lines up with the notion of addiction as a chronic disease entity. Most genetic association studies have failed to record risk variations for addiction that are specific to one addictive drug. Writing in 2012 in Drug and Alcohol Dependence, Michael M. Vanyukov of the University of Pittsburgh, along with a large group of prominent addiction researchers, argued that the gateway hypothesis is essentially a form of circular reasoning. “It is drug use itself that is viewed as the cause of drug use development,” they write. The staged progression from one drug to another “is defined in a circular manner: a stage is said to be reached when a certain drug is used, but this drug is supposed to be used only upon reaching this stage. In other words, the stage both is identified by the drug and identifies the drug. In effect, the drug is identical to the stage.”

The researchers reject any causal claims on behalf of the gateway hypothesis and insist there is no necessary usage of soft drugs at an earlier stage to pave the way for hardcore addiction, however watertight the idea might sound. The high correlations are “artifactual,” they argue, “because they are estimated among hard drug users, without taking into account the large population of those who try or even habitually use marijuana but never transition to harder drugs.” A common cause, such as an underlying vulnerability to all drugs of abuse, seems more to the point, they insist. There is nothing out there to suggest that “these stages are either obligatory or universal, nor that all persons must progress through each in turn… the initiation order is frequently reversed even for the licit-to-illicit sequence.” There is only one stage that universally precedes hard drug use, they argue. And that is non-use. “It is the non-use then, which should be the actual gateway condition.”

The leading theory supporting the gateway hypothesis is that some as yet undetermined mechanism of “sensitization” occurs after using a gateway drug. But there is no science supporting this notion. “If sensitization does occur,” the researchers say, “it is equivalent to an increase in individual liability at the level of neurochemical mechanisms of addiction.”

The paper in Drug and Alcohol Dependence notes that in Japan, where marijuana is used by less than 5 percent of young people, “cannabis is not used first by a staggering 83.2% of the users of other illicit drugs, thus violating the gateway sequence.” Japan also handily knocks down the idea of alcohol as a gateway drug: Whereas the prevalence of aldehyde dehydrogenase deficiency—the so-called alcohol flush reaction—keeps many Asians from drinking alcohol regularly, this does not correlate with lower rates of non-alcohol substance use in that population.

All of this would seem to put the last nail in the notion that “involvement in various classes of drugs is not opportunistic but follows definite pathways,” as Vanyukov et. al. put it. Common sense seems to be ahead of official drug policy in this regard.

For proponents of common liability to addiction models, any staged sequencing of drug use is considered opportunistic and trivial. Which, interestingly, is how many addicts tend to view the gateway theory. But the idea of marijuana or alcohol as a gateway drug just feels intuitively correct to many people. Part of the problem is chronological. “At the relatively distal time when genetic relationships are usually evaluated,” the authors maintain, “the role of this early-acting factor may be as difficult to detect as it is to find a match that started a forest fire.” Your genetic endowment is with you from birth, while your first drink or toke of marijuana does not happen for a decade or two. Individual environmental conditions, from epigenetic changes to a move to a different neighborhood, determine how it will play out down the road, but these factors are mostly invisible at the time of addiction.

All of this matters from a policy point of view, because research “may be hindered or misdirected if a concept lacking substance, validity and utility is accorded prominence.” However, even when the gateway hypothesis is taken as a given, different legal and social outcomes are still possible. The best example is found in The Netherlands. The prevailing belief there is that “the pharmacological effects of cannabis increase adolescents’ likelihood of using other drugs,” as stated  by Wayne Hall, a professor of public health policy at the University of Queensland, Australia. Writing in Addiction, Hall says that drug policy analysts in The Netherlands have argued that the fabled gateway “is a consequence of the fact that cannabis and other illicit drugs are sold in the same black market; they have advocated for the decriminalization of cannabis use and small retail sales in order to break the nexus between cannabis use and the use of other illicit drugs.”

This “Marijuana Shop” approach may have direct relevance in the U.S., in the wake of cannabis legalization in Washington and Colorado. James Anthony, a professor of epidemiology at the Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins, writes about the real-world ramifications of the cannabis shop in Addiction: “Do we actually achieve a near-term delay in the time to a young person’s first chance to try cocaine or heroin... [or] do we run the risk of accumulating more cases of dependence on marijuana, or other hazards attributable to non-essential marijuana use?

The true gateways to addiction appear to be behavioral. As part of their genetic endowment, budding addicts are far more likely than other people to exhibit behavioral “dysregulation” when young, in the form of disinhibition, impulsivity, and antisocial behaviors. More than half of all addicts are co-morbid, meaning they also have a psychological or behavioral disorder in addition to addiction. Further analysis of this fact would seem to be a more fruitful research avenue than simply prodding at alcohol or marijuana in an effort to uncover their chemical “secrets” for compelling future drug use.

First published April 14, 2013.

Freud and his Drug Demons

Cocaine addiction and psychoanalysis.

That Sigmund Freud was a cocaine abuser for some portion of his professional life is by now well known. Reading An Anatomy of Addiction by Howard Markel, M.D., which chronicles the careers of Freud and another famed cocaine abuser, Johns Hopkins surgeon William Halsted, I was struck by the many ways in which even the father of modern psychotherapy could not see the delusions, evasions and outright lies that were the byproducts of his very own disease of the body and mind: drug addiction. Markel makes the case that in several important ways Freud’s cocaine addiction was hopelessly entangled with, and partially responsible for, his theorizing about the workings of the mind.

In 1884, Freud published his book, On Coca, a treatise on the wonders of cocaine. To his fiance, he wrote: “I have other hopes and intentions about [cocaine]. I take very small doses of it regularly against depression and against indigestion and with the most brilliant of success.” The book, a comprehensive review of cocaine’s effects, had an “n of 1”: “I have carried out experiments and studied, in myself and others, the effect of coca on the healthy human body.”

One of the defects of On Coca was its assertion that the drug was an effective antidote to serious morphine and alcohol abuse. Most astonishingly, however, Freud “skimmed over cocaine’s most important clinical use as a local anesthetic.” That discovery was later championed by ophthalmologist Carl Koller, whom Freud never forgave, even though the mistake was Freud’s alone. It seems reasonable to suggest that a moody doctor, who happened to be treating a close friend for morphine addiction at the time, might tend to focus on cocaine’s use against depression and drug abuse. And two years later, Freud vigorously fought back against an influential American doctor’s unambiguous assertion that cocaine was addictive. The U.S. physician had written that a “doctor self-prescribing cocaine was the equivalent of the lawyer representing himself in court: each had a fool for a patient or client.”

Markel notes that it is “also telling that he does not reveal to [his fiancé] the precise amount of cocaine he was ingesting. In fact, throughout his notes during this period, Freud minimizes the amount and frequency of his cocaine dosage, using such terms as ‘a little cocaine’ or a ‘bit of cocaine,’ a tactic many substance abusers employ to avoid the disapproval or intervention of others.”

Writing in his capacity as a physician, Markel states:

In light of the physical symptoms Freud suffered during this period, in my medical opinion, there is ample evidence that he was abusing significant amounts of cocaine during the early 1890s and that he was using it in a dependent, if not outright addictive fashion. In fact, cocaine likely had a negative effect on virtually every aspect of Sigmund’s personal relationships, behavior, and health. We can make such a declarative statement because his letters to Wilhelm Fleiss tells us precisely so…. Sigmund explained that he was suffering from a Fliessian syndrome of ‘crossed reflexes’ of the nose, brain, and genitals that had led to severe migraine headaches. The excruciating pain, not surprisingly, could only be interrupted by the multiple doses of cocaine prescribed by Dr. Fliess.

It was not pretty: “From a diagnostic standpoint, Sigmund’s nasal stuffiness is intriguing… Sigmund’s need for cauterization—the placement of a hot knife against swollen, blocked nasal tissue to, literally, burn open a passage for air—in concert with his disinclination to write suggests serious cocaine abuse.” And also telling is Freud’s habit of smoking 20 or more cigars each day.

By 1894, Markel writes, “the cardiac symptoms associated with cocaine use and the severe depression and headaches after its use—similar to what Sigmund was experiencing—were finally being reported in the medical journals of the day.” And, much like an alcoholic explaining away his chronic stomach troubles, “Freud continued to search for alternative explanations for his chest pain rather than seriously contemplate cocaine’s potential role in the matter.”

For readers in need of socioenvironmental triggers for addiction, Freud had a ready supply: “risk taking, resentments, loneliness, alienation, emotional pain, traumatic family experiences, phobias, neuroses, depression, denials and secretiveness about his sexuality, a possible sexual relationship with his sister-in-law, a brief flirtation with excessive drinking, and his self-documented cocaine abuse, to name some of his demons.”

About 1896, Freud stopped discussing his use of cocaine, and more or less dropped the subject altogether. Later in life, he speculated on whether his love of cigars (which eventually killed him) had helped keep him away from the task of working out his own psychological problems. “One wonders,” writes Markel, “whether his compulsive cocaine abuse from 1884 to 1896 was one of those unexplored problems.”

From 1896 to 1900, presumably cocaine-free years, Freud suffered from “depression, cocaine urges, occasional binge drinking, sexual affairs, caustic behaviors, and emotional absence.” To Markel, this adds up to the classic portrait of a “dry drunk,” AA’s description of someone who has given up drinking and drugs, and is miserable about it, and is making everyone around them miserable as well.

Markel points to the theory promulgated by historian Peter Swales to the effect that Freud’s entire concept of the libido “is merely a mask and a symbol for cocaine; the drug, or rather its invisible ghost, haunts the whole of Freud’s writing to the very end.”

Why Will Power Fails

How to strengthen your self-control.

(First published August 12, 2013)

Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed,
Immediately inordinate desires,
And upstart passions, catch the government
From reason; and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost

What is will power? Is it the same as delayed gratification? Why is will power “far from bulletproof,” as researchers put it in a recent article for Neuron? Why is willpower “less successful during ‘hot’ emotional states”? And why do people “ration their access to ‘vices’ like cigarettes and junk foods by purchasing them in smaller quantities,” despite the fact that it’s cheaper to buy in bulk?

 Everyone, from children to grandparents, can be lured by the pull of immediate gratification, at the expense of large—but delayed—rewards. By means of a process known as temporal discounting, the subjective value of a reward declines as the delay to its receipt increases. Rational Man, Economic Man, shouldn’t behave in a manner clearly contrary to his or her own best interest. However, as Crockett et. al. point out in a recent paper in Neuron “struggles with self-control pervade daily life and characterize an array of dysfunctional behaviors, including addiction, overeating, overspending, and procrastination.”

Previous research has focused primarily on “the effortful inhibition of impulses” known as will power. Crockett and coworkers wanted to investigate another means by which people resist temptations. This alternative self-control strategy is called precommitment, “in which people anticipate self-control failures and prospectively restrict their access to temptations.” Good examples of this approach include avoiding the purchase of unhealthy foods so that they don’t constitute a short-term temptation at home, and putting money in financial accounts featuring steep penalties for early withdrawal. These strategies are commonplace, and that’s because people generally understand that will power is far from foolproof against short-term temptation. People adopt strategies, like precommitment, precisely because they are anticipating the possibility of a failure of self-control. We talk a good game about will power and self-control in addiction treatment, but the truth is, nobody really trusts it—and for good reason.  The person who still trusts will power has not been sufficiently tempted.

The researchers were looking for the neural mechanisms that underlie precommitment, so that they could compare them with brain scans of people exercising simple self-control in the face of short-term temptation.

After behavioral and fMRI testing, the investigators used preselected erotic imagery rated by subjects as either less desirable ( smaller-sooner reward, or SS), or more highly desirable ( larger-later reward, or LL). The protocol is complicated, and the analysis of brain scans is inherently controversial. But previous studies have shown heightened activity in three brain areas when subjects are engaged in “effortful inhibition of impulses.” These are the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC), the inferior frontal gyrus (IFG), and the posterior parietal cortex (PPC). But when presented with opportunities to precommit by making a binding choice that eliminated short-term temptation, activity increased in a brain region known as the lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC).  Study participants who scored high on impulsivity tests were inclined to precommit to the binding choice.

In that sense, impulsivity can be defined as the abrupt breakdown of will power. Activity in the LFPC has been associated with value-based decision-making and counterfactual thinking. LFPC activity barely rose above zero when subjects actively resisted a short-term temptation using will power.  Subjects who chose the option to precommit, who were sensitive to the opportunity to make binding choices about the picture they most wanted to see, showed significant activity in the LFPC. “Participants were less likely to receive large delayed reward when they had to actively resist smaller-sooner reward, compared to when they could precommit to choosing the larger reward before being exposed to temptation.”

Here is how it looks to Molly Crockett and her fellow authors of the Neuron article:

Precommitment is adaptive when willpower failures are expected…. One computationally plausible neural mechanism is a hierarchical model of self-control in which an anatomically distinct network monitors the integrity of will-power processes and implements precommitment decisions by controlling activity in those same regions. The lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC) is a strong candidate for serving this role.

None of the three brain regions implicated in the act of will power were active when opportunities to precommit were presented.  Precommitment, the authors conclude, “may involve recognizing, based on past experience, that future self-control failures are likely if temptations are present. Previous studies of the LFPC suggest that this region specifically plays a role in comparing alternative courses of action with potentially different expected values.” Precommitment, then, may arise as an alternative strategy; a byproduct of learning and memory related to experiences “about one’s own self-control abilities.”

There are plenty of caveats for this study: A small number of participants, the use of pictorial temptations, and the short time span for precommitment decisions, compared to real-world scenarios where delays to greater rewards can take weeks or months. But clearly something in us often knows that, in the immortal words of Carrie Fisher, “instant gratification takes too long.” For this unlucky subset, precommitment may be a vitally important cognitive strategy. “Humans may be woefully vulnerable to self-control failures,” the authors conclude, “but thankfully, we are sometimes sufficiently far-sighted to circumvent our inevitable shortcomings.” We learn—some of us—not to put ourselves in the path of temptation so readily.


Photo Credit: http://cassandralathamjones.wordpress.com/

What is This Thing Called Neuroplasticity?

And how does it impact addiction and recovery?

Bielefeld, Germany—

The first in an irregular series of posts about a recent conference, Neuroplasticity in Substance Addiction and Recovery: From Genes to Culture and Back Again. The conference, held at the Center for Interdisciplinary Research (ZiF) at Bielefeld University, drew neuroscientists, historians, psychologists, philosophers, and even a freelance science journalist or two, coming in from Germany, the U.S., The Netherlands, the UK, Finland, France, Italy, Australia, and elsewhere. The organizing idea was to focus on how changes in the brain impact addiction and recovery, and what that says about the interaction of genes and culture. The conference co-organizers were Jason Clark and Saskia Nagel of the Institute of Cognitive Science at the University of Osnabrück, Germany.

One of the stated missions of the conference at Bielefeld’s Center for Interdisciplinary Research was to confront the leaky battleship called the disease model of addiction. Is it the name that needs changing, or the entire concept? Is addiction “hardwired,” or do things like learning and memory and choice and environmental circumstance play commanding roles that have been lost in the excitement over the latest fMRI scan?

What exactly is this neuroplasticity the conference was investigating? From a technical point of view, it refers to the brain’s ability to form new neural connections in response to illness, injury, or new environmental situations, just to name three. Nerve cells engage in a bit of conjuring known as “axonal sprouting,” which can include rerouting new connections around damaged axons. Alternatively, connections are pruned or reduced. Neuroplasticity is not an unmitigated blessing. Consider intrusive tinnitus, a loud and continuous ringing or hissing in the ears, which is thought to be the result of the rewiring of brain cells involved in the processing of sound, rather than the sole result of injury to cochlear hair cells.

The fact that the brain is malleable is not a new idea, to be sure. Psychologist Vaughn Bell, writing at Mind Hacks, has listed a number of scientific papers, from as early as 1896, which discuss the possibility of neural regeneration. But there is a problem with neuroplasticity, writes Bell, and it is that “there is no accepted scientific definition for the term, and, in its broad sense, it means nothing more than ‘something in the brain has changed.’” Bell quotes the introduction to the science text, Toward a Theory of Neuroplasticity: “While many scientists use the word neuroplasticity as an umbrella term, it means different things to different researchers in different subfields… In brief, a mutually agreed upon framework does not appear to exist.”

So the conference was dealing with two very slippery semantic concepts when it linked neuroplasticity and addiction. There were discussions of the epistemology of addiction, and at least one reference to Foucault, and plenty of arguments about dopamine, to keep things properly interdisciplinary. “Talking about ‘neuroscience,’” said Robert Malenka of Stanford University’s Institute for Neuro-Innovation and Translational Neurosciences, “is like talking about ‘art.’”

What do we really know about synaptic restructuring, or “brains in the wild,” as anthropologist Daniel Lende of the University of South Florida characterized it during his presentation? Lende, who called for using both neurobiology and ethnography in investigative research, said that more empirical work was needed if we are to better understand addiction “outside of clinical and laboratory settings.” Indeed, the prevailing conference notion was to open this discussion outwards, to include plasticity in all its ramifications—neural, medical psychological, sociological, and legal—including, as well, the ethical issues surrounding addiction.

Among the addiction treatment modalities discussed in conference presentations were optogenetics, deep brain stimulation, psychedelic drugs, moderation, and cognitive therapies modeled after systems used to treat various obsessive-compulsive disorders. Some treatment approaches, such as optogenetics and deep brain stimulation, “have the potential to challenge previous notions of permanence and changeability, with enormous implications for legal strategies, treatment, stigmatization, and addicts’ conceptions of themselves,” in the words of Clark and Nagel.

Interestingly, there was little discussion of anti-craving medications, like naltrexone for alcohol and methadone for heroin. Nor was the standard “Minnesota Model” of 12 Step treatment much in evidence during the presentations oriented toward treatment. The emphasis was on future treatments, which was understandable, given that almost no one is satisfied with treatment as it is now generally offered. (There was also a running discussion of the extent to which America’s botched health care system and associated insurance companies have screwed up the addiction treatment landscape for everybody.)

It sometimes seems as if the more we study addiction, the farther it slips from our grasp, receding as we advance. Certainly health workers of every stripe, in every field from cancer to infectious diseases to mental health disorders, have despaired about their understanding of the terrain of the disorder they were studying. But even the term addiction is now officially under fire. The DSM5 has banished the word from its pages, for starters.

Developmental psychologist Reinout Wiers of the University of Amsterdam used a common metaphor, the rider on an unruly horse, to stand in for the bewildering clash of top-down and bottom-up neural processes that underlie addictive behaviors. The impulsive horse and the reflective rider must come to terms, without entering into a mutually destructive spiral of negative behavior patterns. Not an easy task.

Addiction in the Spotlight at Neuroscience 2013

Testing treatments for nicotine, heroin, and gambling addiction.

Several addiction studies were among the highlights at last month’s annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience (SfN) in San Diego. Studies released at the gathering including therapies for nicotine and heroin addiction, as well as some notions about the nature of gambling addiction.

And now, as they say, for the news:

— Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (rTMS), the controversial technique being tested for everything from depression to dementia, may help some smokers quit or cut down, according to research coming in from Ben Gurion University in Israel. Abraham Zangen and colleagues used repeated high frequency rTMS over the lateral prefrontal cortex and the insula of volunteers. Participants who got the magnetic stimulation quit smoking at six times the rate of the placebo group over a six-month period. Work in this area is limited, but there is some preliminary evidence that some addictions may respond to this form of treatment. azangen@bgu.ac.il

—Speaking of the insula—a site deep in the frontal lobes where neuroscientists believe that self-awareness, cognition, and other acts of consciousness are partially mediated—research now suggests that out-of-control gamblers may be suffering, in part, from an overactive insula. People with damage to the insular region are less prone to both the “near-miss fallacy (where a loss is perceived as “almost” a win) and the “gambler’s fallacy (where a run of luck is “due” to a gambler after a string of losses). The volunteer gamblers played digital gambling games while undergoing functional MRIs. Luke Clark of the University of Cambridge, along with researchers from the University of Iowa and the University of Southern California, uncovered a “specific disruption of both effects” in a study group with insula damage. This ties in with earlier research demonstrating that smokers with insula damage lost interest in their habit. This one remains a puzzler, and further research, that brave cliché’, is needed, especially since disordered, or “pathological” gambling is now classified in the DSM5 as an addiction, not an impulse control disorder.  lc260@cam.ac.uk

—And speaking of stimulation, if you go deep with rat brains, you can stimulate a drug reward area and reduce the motivation for heroin in addicted rats. Deep brain stimulation (DBS), an equally controversial treatment approach, now in use as a treatment for Parkinson’s and other conditions, is a surgical procedure involving the implantation of electrodes in the brain. When Carrie Wade and others at the Scripps Research Institute and Aix-Marseille University in France electrically stimulated the subthalamic nucleus and got addicted rats to take less heroin and become less motivated for the task of bar pressing to receive the drug. Earlier work had demonstrated a similar effect in rats’ motivation for cocaine use. “This research takes a non-drug therapy that is already approved for human use and demonstrates that it may be an option for treating heroin abuse,” Wade said in a prepared statement.  clwade@scripps.edu

—Too much stimulation leads to stress, as we know. And George Koob, recently named the director of the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, discussed his work on the ways in which dysregulated stress responses might act as triggers for increased drug use and addiction. Koob focused on the negative reinforcement of stressful emotional states: “The argument here is that excessive use of drugs leads to negative emotional states that drive such drug seeking by activating the brain stress systems with areas of the brain historically known to mediate emotions and includes the stress/fear-mediating amygdala and reward-mediating basal ganglia.” For Koob, “stress can cause addiction and addiction can cause stress.” gkoob@scripps.edu

—Finally, hardcore gamblers show a boost in reward-sensitive brain areas when they win a cash payout, but less activation when presented with rewards involving food or sex. The study features more volunteers playing games inside fMRI machines, and purports to demonstrated that problem gamblers are less motivated by erotic pictures than by monetary gains, “whereas healthy participants were equally fast for both rewards.” This “blunted sensitivity” in heavy gamblers suggests the possibility of a marker for problem gambling, in the form of a distorted sensitivity to reward, said Guillaume Sescousse of Radboud University in The Netherlands, during a mini-symposium at the conference. “It is as if the brain of gamblers interpreted money as a primary reward…. for its own sake, as if it were intrinsically reinforcing.” g.sescousse@fcdonders.ru.nl

Will Power and Its Limits

How to strengthen your self-control.

Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed,
Immediately inordinate desires,
And upstart passions, catch the government
From reason; and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost

What is will power? Is it the same as delayed gratification? Why is will power “far from bulletproof,” as researchers put it in a recent article for Neuron? Why is willpower “less successful during ‘hot’ emotional states”? And why do people “ration their access to ‘vices’ like cigarettes and junk foods by purchasing them in smaller quantities,” despite the fact that it’s cheaper to buy in bulk?

 Everyone, from children to grandparents, can be lured by the pull of immediate gratification, at the expense of large—but delayed—rewards. By means of a process known as temporal discounting, the subjective value of a reward declines as the delay to its receipt increases. Rational Man, Economic Man, shouldn’t behave in a manner clearly contrary to his or her own best interest. However, as Crockett et. al. point out in a recent paper in Neuron “struggles with self-control pervade daily life and characterize an array of dysfunctional behaviors, including addiction, overeating, overspending, and procrastination.”

Previous research has focused primarily on “the effortful inhibition of impulses” known as will power. Crockett and coworkers wanted to investigate another means by which people resist temptations. This alternative self-control strategy is called precommitment, “in which people anticipate self-control failures and prospectively restrict their access to temptations.” Good examples of this approach include avoiding the purchase of unhealthy foods so that they don’t constitute a short-term temptation at home, and putting money in financial accounts featuring steep penalties for early withdrawal. These strategies are commonplace, and that’s because people generally understand that will power is far from foolproof against short-term temptation. People adopt strategies, like precommitment, precisely because they are anticipating the possibility of a failure of self-control. We talk a good game about will power and self-control in addiction treatment, but the truth is, nobody really trusts it—and for good reason.  The person who still trusts will power has not been sufficiently tempted.

The researchers were looking for the neural mechanisms that underlie precommitment, so that they could compare them with brain scans of people exercising simple self-control in the face of short-term temptation.

After behavioral and fMRI testing, the investigators used preselected erotic imagery rated by subjects as either less desirable ( smaller-sooner reward, or SS), or more highly desirable ( larger-later reward, or LL). The protocol is complicated, and the analysis of brain scans is inherently controversial. But previous studies have shown heightened activity in three brain areas when subjects are engaged in “effortful inhibition of impulses.” These are the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC), the inferior frontal gyrus (IFG), and the posterior parietal cortex (PPC). But when presented with opportunities to precommit by making a binding choice that eliminated short-term temptation, activity increased in a brain region known as the lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC).  Study participants who scored high on impulsivity tests were inclined to precommit to the binding choice.

In that sense, impulsivity can be defined as the abrupt breakdown of will power. Activity in the LFPC has been associated with value-based decision-making and counterfactual thinking. LFPC activity barely rose above zero when subjects actively resisted a short-term temptation using will power.  Subjects who chose the option to precommit, who were sensitive to the opportunity to make binding choices about the picture they most wanted to see, showed significant activity in the LFPC. “Participants were less likely to receive large delayed reward when they had to actively resist smaller-sooner reward, compared to when they could precommit to choosing the larger reward before being exposed to temptation.”

Here is how it looks to Molly Crockett and her fellow authors of the Neuron article:

Precommitment is adaptive when willpower failures are expected…. One computationally plausible neural mechanism is a hierarchical model of self-control in which an anatomically distinct network monitors the integrity of will-power processes and implements precommitment decisions by controlling activity in those same regions. The lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC) is a strong candidate for serving this role.

None of the three brain regions implicated in the act of will power were active when opportunities to precommit were presented.  Precommitment, the authors conclude, “may involve recognizing, based on past experience, that future self-control failures are likely if temptations are present. Previous studies of the LFPC suggest that this region specifically plays a role in comparing alternative courses of action with potentially different expected values.” Precommitment, then, may arise as an alternative strategy; a byproduct of learning and memory related to experiences “about one’s own self-control abilities.”

There are plenty of caveats for this study: A small number of participants, the use of pictorial temptations, and the short time span for precommitment decisions, compared to real-world scenarios where delays to greater rewards can take weeks or months. But clearly something in us often knows that, in the immortal words of Carrie Fisher, “instant gratification takes too long.” For this unlucky subset, precommitment may be a vitally important cognitive strategy. “Humans may be woefully vulnerable to self-control failures,” the authors conclude, “but thankfully, we are sometimes sufficiently far-sighted to circumvent our inevitable shortcomings.” We learn—some of us—not to put ourselves in the path of temptation so readily.

Crockett M., Braams B., Clark L., Tobler P., Robbins T. & Kalenscher T. (2013). Restricting Temptations: Neural Mechanisms of Precommitment, Neuron, 79 (2) 391-401. DOI: 10.1016/j.neuron.2013.05.028

Photo Credit: http://tommyboland.com/2011/05/27/white-knuckle-living/

Nature, Nurture, and Me

Which came first, the addiction or the trauma?

About a year ago, Jonathan Taylor, a professor at California State University in Fullerton, assigned his students some reading from my book, The Chemical Carousel, for his “Drugs, Politics, and Cultural Change” course. At the same time, the class watched an interview with Dr. Gabor Maté, author of In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction. In a letter written for his readers, Dr. Mate´ insists that addiction “is very close to the core of the human experience. That is why almost anything can become addictive, from seemingly healthy activities such as eating or exercising to abusing drugs intended for healing. The issue is not the external target but our internal relationship to it. Addictions, for the most part, develop in a compulsive attempt to ease one’s pain or distress in the world…. The more we suffer, and the earlier in life we suffer, the more we are prone to become addicted."

I find this perspective interesting, because I agree with so little of it. I do not believe that almost anybody can become involved in an addictive relationship with almost anything—not unless they have the genes for it. I do not believe that the genuine heart of addiction, its true root cause, is childhood abuse—although that is frequently and tragically a component of addiction, for many reasons. Overall, I see addiction as a biochemical disorder with strong behavioral attributes, mostly genetic in origin, influenced by—but not hostage to—environmental impacts, making it not so different from, say, diabetes or depression.

No doubt about it, there is a fair amount of distance between the doctor and your humble science journalist, from the nature/nurture point of view. And, students being students, they picked up on this, and wanted an explanation that would make some sense of these two seemingly opposite positions. Professor Taylor threw the question back to me:

My class was wondering how one would reconcile your and Mate’s views.  Both of you discuss the addicted brain and clearly view addiction as a brain disorder.  The fundamental difference is that Mate disputes the genetic component of addiction, or at least he says there is some genetic component but that the majority of the brain dysfunction and low levels of neurotransmitters found in addicted individuals relates to environmental influences during early childhood (or in the womb), rather than a genetic component…. In the book he discusses studies that indicate that insufficient maternal care, exposure to conflict etc. all lead to improper brain development which leads to increase susceptibility to addiction.  So while you write about “inherited susceptibility,” he seems to favor an “environmental induced susceptibility…. Any elucidation I can share with my students would be helpful.

So. I was well and truly on the hook. I kept my response short, for the obvious reasons, but there is no getting around the fact that it’s a damn good question. Here’s what I ended up telling the class:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jon:

"Your students ask, quite rightly, how to reconcile the views expressed in The Chemical Carousel and In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. Or, nature vs. nurture. Dr. Maté looks to environmental impacts during early childhood as the addiction trigger, while I advocate a view of addiction as a genetic disorder, expressed because of changes in DNA, not bad mothering. (It wasn’t very long ago that schizophrenia was firmly believed to be a result of bad mothering, too!) More to the point, Maté believes, for example, that ALL female heroin addicts were sexually abused as children. That is certainly not an assertion widely agreed upon or well supported by the scientific literature. In the most recent population study of addicts and non-addicted siblings, published in Science (Feb. 3 2012), when the researchers looked at the early lives of sibling pairs, they found all the same risk factors: both the addicts and their siblings had seen roughly equal amounts of trauma in childhood. 'We really looked at their childhoods,' says Karen Ersche, lead author of the study and group leader for human addiction research at the University of Cambridge in England, quoted at Time Healthland. 'There was a lot of domestic violence, there was sexual abuse — but both [groups] had that.'

"So, which came first, the trauma, or the trauma-prone personality? Where Dr. Maté sees childhood trauma, I tend to see behavioral dysregulation. Children born with an addictive propensity also carry with them the potential for various kinds of behavioral problems, impulsivity being a common one. And it is entirely likely that most addicts have had rocky childhoods, since, quite often, they have had alcoholics in the nuclear family, with all the attendant problems, including sexual violence. Or, their own behavioral template leads to problems—angst, worry, fights, trauma. In a sense, we can say that sooner or later, something, or someone, or a series of environmental impacts, will traumatize a child with addictive propensities, in the same way that latent schizophrenia is “switched on” by a traumatic or highly emotional event. Addicts feel like outsiders from an early age, and many of them sense that something is not quite right with them, long before they ever take a drink or a drug.

"Sorting out this chicken-egg problem is a major headache. And we haven’t even discussed the possibility of trauma in the womb. But I am willing to say that none of this is as settled or as straightforward as Dr. Maté would have it. On the matter of nature/nurture, I’m willing to put the odds of that mix at 60/40, which is a good deal less genetically loaded than my estimates used to be. The growing research field of epigenetics has brought the two views closer together by demonstrating that a person’s DNA can in some cases be modified, and genes turned off and on, by environmental impacts.

"Overall, it’s safe to say that Dr. Maté and I do agree on this: One of the best defenses against the scourge of addictive disease is a stable, loving, empathetic family."

Best,
Dirk

Photo Credit: http://lofalexandria.blogspot.com/

More Hard Facts About Addiction Treatment

“Yes, we take your insurance.”

Recent reportage, such as Anne Fletcher’s book, Inside Rehab, has documented the mediocre application of vague and questionable procedures in many of the nation’s addiction rehab centers. You would not think the addiction treatment industry had much polish left to lose, but now comes a devastating analysis of a treatment industry at “an ethics crossroads,” according to Alison Knopf’s 3-part series in Addiction Professional. Knopf deconstructs the problems inherent in America’s uniquely problematic for-profit treatment industry, and documents a variety of abuses. We are not talking about Medicaid, Medicare, or Block Grants here. Private sector dollars, Knopf reaffirms, do not “guarantee that the treatment is evidence-based, worth the money, and likely to produce a good outcome.” Even Hazelden, it turns out, is prepared to offer you “equine therapy,” otherwise known as horseback riding.

Knopf, who is editor of Alcoholism and Drug Abuse Weekly, was specifically looking at private programs, paid for by insurance companies or by patients themselves. Who is in charge of enforcing specific standards of business practice when it comes to private drug and alcohol rehabs? Does the federal government have some manner of regulatory control? According to a physician with the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), the feds rely on the states to do the regulating. And according to state officials, the states look to the federal agencies for regulatory guidance.

All too often, the states routinely license but do not effectively monitor treatment facilities, or give useful consumer advice. Florida state officials do not even know, with any certainty, exactly how many treatment centers are in operation statewide. And even if state monitoring programs were effective and aggressively applied, “just because something is legal doesn’t mean it’s ethical,” said the SAMHSA official.

“We see this as a pivotal time for the treatment field as we have come to know it,” said Gary Enos, editor of Addiction Professional, in an email exchange with Addiction Inbox. Enos said that “the Affordable Care Act (ACA) will move addiction treatment more into the mainstream of healthcare, and this will mean that treatment centers' referral and insurance practices will come under more scrutiny than ever before.”

 Among the questionable practices documented by Knopf:

—Paying bounties and giving gifts to interventionists in return for client referrals.

Under Medicare, paying interventionists for referrals is banned. “In the private sector,” says a California treatment official, “it’s not illegal. But it is unethical.” According to treatment lobbyist Carol McDaid, “kickbacks happen all the time. Treatment centers that are doing this will do so at their own peril in the future,” she told Knopf.

—Giving assurances that treatment will be covered by insurance even though only a portion of the cost is likely to be covered.

Under the Affordable Care Act (ACA), says the SAMHSA official, “We are trying to position people to know more about their benefit package. And the industry has to be more straightforward about what the package will cover.” John Schwarzlose, CEO of the Betty Ford Center, told Knopf that “it’s very hard for ethical treatment providers to compete against insurance bait-and-switch,” when patients are told their insurance is good—but aren’t told that the coverage ends after 7 days, or that the daily maximum payout doesn’t meet the daily facility charges.

—Billing patients directly for proprietary nutrient supplements, brain scans, and other unproven treatment modalities.

“Equine therapy, Jacuzzi therapy, those are nice things, and maybe they help with the process of engagement,” said one therapist. “But people need to recognize that these ancillaries aren’t the essence of getting sober.”

—Engaging in dubious Internet marketing schemes.

You see them on the Internet: dozens and dozens of addiction and rehab referral sites. They list private services in various states, and look, on the surface, like legitimate information resources for people in need. As the owner of a blog about drugs and addiction, I hear from them constantly, asking me for links. “Family members and patients frequently have no way of knowing that a treatment program was really a call center they got to by Googling ‘rehab,’ writes Knopf, “and that the call center gets paid for referring patients to the actual treatment center. They don’t know that a program that promises to ‘work with’ health insurance knows full well the insurance will cover only a few days at the facility, and the rest will have to be paid out of pocket.” She points to a 2011 Wired magazine article, which said the Internet marketing cost of key words like “rehab” and “recovery” can be stratospheric. But “by spending that money—not necessarily providing good service—treatment provides can come out on top on searches. It’s the new marketing to the desperate.”

The group with the most to lose from revelations of this nature is the National Association of Addiction Treatment Providers (NAATP), the association representing both private and non-profit rehab programs. The Betty Ford Center has discontinued its membership in NAATP, a move that reflects the turmoil of the industry today. “It’s crazy that we have treatment centers inviting interventionists and other referents on a cruise, and then giving everyone an iPad,” Schwarzlose said.

As one man who lost his son to an overdose said: “I don’t get it. There’s the American Cancer Society, but I look for drugs and alcohol and I can’t find anything. There’s no National Association for Addictive Disease. How can this be?”

The investigative series will be featured in Addiction Professional’s March/April print issue. Enos believes that “influential treatment leaders are more interested than ever to see this debate aired more publically,” and says that the online publication of Knopf’s articles for the magazine has sparked “a great deal of discussion in treatment centers and on social media, including comments about other questionable practices that harm the field’s reputation.”

Addiction Rehab: Everything is Broken

Down the rabbit hole in search of effective treatment.

When I first began researching drugs and addiction years ago, a Seattle doctor told me something memorable. “It’s as if you had cancer,” she said, “and your doctor’s sole method of treatment consisted of putting you in a weekly self-help group.”

I’ve got nothing against weekly self-help groups, to be sure. But as Ivan Oransky, executive editor of Reuters Health and a blogger at Retraction Watch, told me as recently as least year, addiction treatment appeared to be “all selling and self-diagnosis. They’re selling you on the fact that you need to be treated.”

In his introduction to Inside Rehab by Anne M. Fletcher (pictured), treatment specialist and former deputy drug czar A. Thomas McLellan writes that the book is “filled with disturbing accounts of seriously addicted people getting very limited care at exhaustive costs and with uncertain results...”

A common notion about addiction treatment facilities, or rehabs, is they are commonly called, is that they are staffed by professional social workers, certified counselors, and family psychologists, as well as addiction specialists. However: “Of the twenty-one states that specify minimum educational requirements for program or clinical directors of rehabs, only eight require a master’s degree and just six require credentialing as an addiction counselor,” writes Fletcher. Neuroscience journalist Maia Szalavitz, who writes for Time Healthland and specializes in addiction and rehab, told Fletcher that “the addiction field has been about as effectively regulated as banking before the economic crisis in many states.” According to Tom McLellan, counselor and director turnover in addiction treatment programs is “higher than in fast-food restaurants.”

In the United States, where for-profit treatment is prevalent, money does not buy access to superior treatment. Fletcher, author of several self-help books on weight loss and alcoholism, doggedly documents what she learns from visiting treatment facilities and interviewing current and former staff and clients. One difficulty with a book of this kind, based primarily on first-hand accounts, is that the same treatment program can offer vastly contrasting experiences from one client to another. And Fletcher, no fan of the 12 Steps, wants AA and NA to account for themselves in a way those volunteer institutions were never designed to accomplish.

But let’s just say it: Addiction treatment in America is a disaster. Addicts get better despite the treatment industry as often as they get better because of it. How did it all go wrong? Part of the answer is that addiction, like depression, tuberculosis, and other chronic conditions, is a segregated illness, as McLellan explains in his introduction. Traditionally, chronic conditions like alcoholism “were not recognized as medical illnesses, and have only recently been taught in most medical schools and treated by physicians. They were seen as ‘lifestyle problems’ and care was typically provided by concerned, committed individuals or institutions not well connected to mainstream health care.”

For treatment of alcoholism and drug addiction, the work has historically fallen to addicts themselves, due to discrimination, segregation, and stigmatization. This prevailing condition is still seen today in many group treatment programs, which are often administered in large part by former addicts with little or no formal training, rather than medical or psychological professionals. Addiction, as the author’s husband wryly remarked, “is the only disease for which having it makes you an expert.”

Which brings up a central point: Where are all the M.D.s? Doctors aren’t helping, either, when they fail to screen for risky drinking or drug use, or when they automatically refer addicts rather than treating them.

If Christopher Kennedy Lawford’s new book, Recover to Live, is the pretty picture, then Fletcher’s Inside Rehab is the gritty picture, in which most addicts who recover don’t go to treatment, 28 days is not long enough to accomplish anything but detox, group counseling is not always the best way to treat addiction, the 12 Steps are not always essential to recovery, specialty drugs are often needed to treat drug addiction, and, perhaps the most troubling of all, most addiction programs do not offer state-of-the-art approaches to treatment that have been shown to be effective in scientific studies.

What clients get, for the most part, is “group, group, and more group,” Fletcher writes. And in many cases of residential or outpatient rehab, “the clients did most of the therapy.” The scientific evidence suggests that some addicts do better with an emphasis on individual counseling, rather than the constant reliance on group work that traditional rehabs have to offer. As one counselor put it: “If I made an appointment to see a therapist because I was depressed, would I be told I have to do a program with everyone else?”

Monthly residential treatment can easily cost $25,000 or more. But public, government funded rehab centers, which presumably have less incentive to treat clients like money, are frequently full. And since these programs run the bulk of prison-related treatment in this country, addicts often stand a better chance of getting into these less expensive programs if they commit a crime.

Even if you manage to get in, rehab rules all too often seem arbitrary and punitive: Recreational reading materials, musical instruments, cell phones, and computers are frequently not permitted. And there is a strong tendency to insist that use equals abuse in every circumstance. Rehab management—the business of what happens after formal treatment ends—is largely neglected in the treatment sphere.

Fletcher rails against the disease model, but mostly in response to how she believes this concept is presented by AA/NA. Like other critics, she dwells on the idea that the disease tag serves as a crutch and an excuse, rather than as an extremely empowering notion for many addicts. In fact, the disease model, as addiction scientists understand it, is seriously underrepresented in the treatment field. Too many mental health professionals continue to insist that “all you need to do is get to the bottom of the problem and the need to use substances to cope, will dissipate,” said an M.D. specializing in addiction. “However, there is absolutely no evidence that this approach works for people who are addicted to alcohol or drugs… The primary-secondary issue is moot and an artifact of the bifurcation of the treatment delivery system.”

A significant number of rehabs still oppose medication-assisted treatment, Fletcher makes clear. Hazelden made news recently for dropping its long-standing opposition to buprenorphrine as a maintenance drug for opiate addicts during treatment. Richard Saitz of Boston University’s School of Medicine says in the book that if addiction were viewed like other health problems, “patients addicted to opioids who are not offered the opportunity to be on maintenance medications would sue their providers and win.”

According to Dr. Mark Willenbring, former director of the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA): “No one wants to say, ‘Treatment as we’ve been doing it probably isn’t as effective as we thought, and we need more basic research to really come up with new tools. In the meantime let’s do what we can to help suffering people in the most cost effective way and strive to not harm them.’”

How to Kick Everything

Christopher Kennedy Lawford on recovery.

Christopher Kennedy Lawford’s ambitious, one-size-fits-all undertaking is titled Recover to Live: Kick Any Habit, Manage Any Addiction: Your Self-Treatment Guide to Alcohol, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Gambling, Hoarding, Smoking, Sex, and Porn. That pretty much covers the waterfront, and represents both the strengths and the weaknesses of the book.

There’s no doubting Lawford’s sincerity, or his experiential understanding of addiction, or the fact that the raw ingredients were present in his case: bad genes and a traumatic early environment. He is related to Ted Kennedy, two of his uncles were publically murdered, and he started using drugs at age 12. But this book doesn’t dwell on his personal narrative. Lawford is a tireless supporter of the addiction recovery community, and Recover to Live is meant to be a one-stop consumer handbook for dealing with, as the title makes clear, any addiction.

To his credit, Lawford starts out by accurately pegging the addiction basics: A chronic brain disorder with strong neurological underpinnings. He cites a lot of relevant studies, and some questionable ones as well, but ultimately lands on an appropriate spot: “You can’t control which genes you inherited or the circumstances of your life that contributed to your disease. But once you know that you have the disease of addiction, you are responsible for doing something about it. And if you don’t address your problem, you can’t blame society or anyone in your life for the consequences. Sorry. That’s the way it works.”

Once you know, you have to treat it. “It can turn the most loving and nurturing home into a prison of anger and fear,” Lawford writes, “because there is no easy fix for the problem, and that infuriates many people.”

 Lawford includes good interviews with the right people—Nora Volkow, Herb Kleber, and Charles O’Brien among them. And he makes a distinction frequently lost in drug debates: “Nondependent drug use is a preventable behavior, whereas addiction is a treatable disease of the brain.” Due to our penchant for jailing co-morbid addicts, “our prisons and jails are the largest mental health institution in the world.” He also knows that hidden alcoholism and multiple addictions mean “rates of remission from single substances may not accurately reflect remission when viewed broadly in terms of all substances used.”

One nice thing about Lawford’s approach is that he highlights comorbidity, the elephant in the room when it comes to addiction treatment. Addiction is so often intertwined with mental health issues of various kinds, and so frequently left out of the treatment equation. The author is correct to focus on “co-occurring disorders,” even though he prefers the term “toxic compulsions,” meaning the overlapping addictions that can often be found in the same person: the alcoholic, chain-smoking, compulsive gambler being the most obvious example.

The curious inclusion of hoarding in Lawford’s list of 7 toxic compulsions (the 7 Deadly Sins?) is best explained by viewing it as the flipside of compulsive shoplifting, a disorder which is likely to follow gambling into the list of behavioral dependencies similar to substance addictions. In sum, writes Lawford, “If we are smoking, overeating, gambling problematically, or spending inordinate amounts of time on porn, we will have a shallower recovery from our primary toxic compulsion.” Lawford sees the exorcising of childhood trauma as the essential element of recovery—a theory that has regained popularity in the wake of findings in the burgeoning field of epigenetics, where scientists have documented changes in genetic expression beyond the womb.

But in order to cover everything, using the widest possible net, Lawford is forced to conflate an overload of information about substance and behavioral dependencies, and sometimes it doesn’t work. He quotes approvingly from a doctor who tells him, “If you’re having five or more drinks—you have a problem with alcohol.” A good deal of evidence suggests that this may be true. But then the doctor continues: “If you use illicit drugs at all, you have a problem with drugs.” Well, no, not necessarily, unless by “problem” the doctor means legal troubles. There are recreational users of every addictive substance that exists—users with the right genes and developmental background to control their use of various drugs. And patients who avail themselves of medical marijuana for chronic illnesses might also beg to differ with the doctor’s opinion.

Lawford attempts to rank every addiction treatment under the sun in terms of effectiveness (“Let a thousand flowers bloom”), an operation fraught with pitfalls since no two people experience addictive drugs in exactly the same way. Is motivational enhancement better than Acamprosate for treatment of alcoholism, worse than cognitive therapy, or about as good as exercise? Lawford makes his picks, but it’s a horse race, so outcomes are uncertain. Moderation management, web-based personalized feedback, mindfulness meditation, acupuncture—it’s all here, the evidence-based and the not-so-evidence based. Whatever it is, Lawford seems to think, it can’t hurt to give it a try, and even the flimsiest treatment modalities might have a calming effect or elicit some sort of placebo response. So what could it hurt.

Lawford’s “Seven Self-Care Tools” with which to combat the Seven Toxic Compulsions vary widely in usefulness. The evidence is controversial for Tool 1, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Tool 2, 12-Step Programs, is controversial and not to everybody’s taste, but used as a free tool by many. Tool 3 is Mindfulness, which is basically another form of cognitive therapy, and Tool 4 is Meditation, which invokes a relaxation response and is generally recognized as safe. Tool 5, Nutrition and Exercise, is solid, but Tool 6, Body Work, is not. Treatments like acupuncture, Reichian therapy, and other forms of “body work” are not proven aids to addicts. Tool 7, Journaling, is up to you.

One of the more useful lists is NIDA director Nora Volkow’s “four biggest addiction myths."

First: “The notion that addiction is the result of a personal choice, a sign of a character flaw, or moral weakness.”

Second: “In order for treatment to be effective, a person must hit ‘rock bottom.’”

Third: “The fact that addicted individuals often and repeatedly fail in their efforts to remain abstinent for a significant period of time demonstrates that addiction treatment doesn’t work.”

Fourth: “The brain is a static, fully formed entity, at least in adults.”

Finally, Lawford puts a strong emphasis on an important but rarely emphasized treatment modality: brief intervention. Why? Because traditional, confrontational interventions don’t work. The associate director of a UCLA substance abuse program tells Lawford: “I haven’t had a drink now in 25 years, and this doctor did it without beating me over the head with a big book, without chastising me, or doing an intervention. What he did was a brief intervention. Health professionals who give clear information and feedback about risks and about possible benefits can make a huge difference. A brief intervention might not work the first time. It might take a couple of visits. But we need more doctors who know what the symptoms of alcohol dependence are and know what questions to ask.”

If your knowledge of addiction is limited, this is a reasonable, middle-of-the-road starting point for a general audience.

The Encultured Brain: A Book Review

How biology and culture jointly define us.

Anyone who follows academia knows that the broad category of courses known as the Liberal Arts has been going through major changes for some time now. In a sort of collegiate scrum to prove relevance and fund-worthiness, disciplines like sociology, anthropology, human ecology, cultural psychology, and even English, have been subjected to a winnowing process. The clear winner seems to anthropology, which has expanded its own field by connecting with modern findings in neuroscience while simultaneously swallowing up what was left of sociology.

It makes sense. Take addiction for an example. Anthropology is a natural and accessible discipline within which to connect the two often-conflicting facets of addiction—its fundamental neuroarchitecture, and the socioenvironmental influences that shape this basic biological endowment. In The Encultured Brain, published this year by MIT Press, co-editors Daniel H. Lende and Greg Downey call for a merger of anthropology and brain science, offering ten case histories of how that might be accomplished. The case histories are lively, ranging from the somatics of Taijutsu martial arts in Japan, to the presence of humor among breast cancer survivors. These attempts to combine laboratory research with anthropological fieldwork are important early efforts at a new combinatory science—one of the hot new “neuros” that just might make it.

I have corresponded with Daniel Lende, one of the book’s co-editors, and I am happy to disclose a mention in the book’s acknowledgements as one of the many people who formed a “rolling cloud of online discussion” with respect to neuroscience and the new anthropology. I am pleased to see that the thoughts of Lende and Downey and others on the emerging science of neuroanthropology are now available as a textbook.

The term “neuroanthropology” was evidently coined by Stephen Jay Gould. A number of prominent thinkers have dipped into this arena over the years: Melvin Konner, Sarah Hrdy, Norman Cousins, Robert Sapolsky, and Antonio Damasio, to name a random few, but the term didn’t seem to get a foothold of note until Lende and Downey began their Neuroanthropology blog, now at PLOS blogs.

The term has the advantage of meaning exactly what it says: an engagement between social science and neuroscience. Lende and Downey look ahead to a time when field-ready equipment will measure nutritional intake, cortisol levels, prenatal conditions, and brain development in the field. As such, neuroanthropology fits somewhere in the vicinity of evolutionary biology and cultural psychology. As a potential new synthesis, it is brilliant and challenging, representing an integrative approach to that ancient problem—how our genetic endowment is influenced by our cultural endowment, or vice versa, if you prefer.

 Lende is no functionalist when it comes to the neuroscience he wants to see incorporated in anthropology. His approach calls for applying a critical eye to any and all strictly brain-based explanations that ignore both environmental influence and biochemical individuality. The possibility that anthropologists may be incorporating neuroimaging technology into their working tool kit is a heady notion indeed. Anthropology may be a “soft” science, but it has always been about the study of “brains in the wild.”

Here, from the introductory chapter, is the short definition of neuroanthropology by Lende and Downey: “Forms of enculturation, social norms, training regimens, ritual, language, and patterns of experience shape how our brains work and are structured…. Without material change in the brain, learning, memory, maturation, and even trauma could not happen…. Through systematic change in the nervous system, the human body learns to orchestrate itself. Cultural concepts and meanings become neurological anatomy.” From the point of view of actual study, there is no choice but to join these two when possible—a task make more difficult by the rampant “biophilia” found among anthropologists and sociologists, as well as the countering notion among biologists that anthropology does not make the cut as a “real” science.

We have come a long way from the simplified view of the brain as some sort of solid-state computer, or, alternatively, a lump of custard waiting to be endowed with functionality by selective pressures from “outside.” We know by now that neural resources are frequently reallocated; that “physiological processes from scaling to connectivity shape what brains can do and why.”  We need to stop viewing culture as “merely information that is transmitted over evolutionary time and recognize that enculturation is, equally, the ways that our interaction with each other shapes our biological endowment, and has been doing so for a very long time,” Lende writes.

At bottom, says Lende, it is a simple notion: “Biology and culture jointly define us.” For example, Lende points to the way tool use affects cortical organization. Monkeys trained to use rakes to fetch food “evidence increasing cortex dedicated to visual-tactile neurons.” Lende wants us to incorporate neuroscience into the broader study of man. He writes that “the activation of neural reward centers, such as the mesolimbic dopaminergic system, is inherently bound up in sociocultural contexts, social interactions, and personal meaning-making.”

As an example, Lende contributes a chapter on “Addiction and Neuroanthropology,” in which he describes research he conducted on drug abuse among young people during a decade he spent in Colombia. Lende found that the addictive spiral “was not merely a neurological transformation, but a shift in habits, clothing, friends, hangouts, and other external factors that re-cued drug seeking behavior, drove addicts to take drugs, even when the young people sought to stay clean. Addiction is not simply in the brain, but in the way that the addict’s brain and world support each other.” And now, he writes, “This combination of neuroscience and ethnography revealed that addiction is a problem of involvement, not just of pleasure or of self. That decade showed me that addiction is profoundly neuroanthropological.”

In other words, tolerance and withdrawal aren’t enough. It is fiendishly complex: “The parts of the brain where addiction happens are not single, isolated circuits—rather, these areas handle emotion, memory, and choice, and are complexly interwoven to manage the inherent difficulty of being a social self in a dynamic world.”

Trying to pick apart the relative influences of nature and nurture comes to look, ultimately, like a fool’s game, “because changes in behavior exposed users to situations in which specific neurophysiological effects were cued with greater frequency; both environment and biology were moving together into a cycle of addiction.”

In a chapter titled “Collective Excitement and Lapse in Agency: Fostering an Appetite for Cigarettes," Peter G. Stromberg of the University of Tulsa argues that the dissociative environment in which college students often try cigarettes for the first time can lead to the loss of “the sense of agency,” meaning that people sometimes carry out activities without taking full responsibility for the decision to do so. As Stromberg writes, “Early smoking experiences typically occur in effervescent social gatherings marked by a high level of excitement and highly rhythmic activities, such as conversation and dancing." Cigarettes acquire a “symbolic valence” in such settings, and the ability to handle a cigarette adroitly confers what Stromberg terms “erotic prestige.” Furthermore, “As anyone who has ever been in a conga line can attest, we humans can be strongly motivated to entrain with rhythmic activities, even if those activities might be judged as unappealing in other contexts.”

If young people smoke at parties for many of the same reasons that they dance at parties—a “desire to increase status” and enter into “joint rhythmic play”—then potential nicotine addicts will be gently nudged into a position of associating party feelings with cigarette feelings, regardless of the actual physiology of nicotine. And, by fostering a dissociative mode of consciousness, college parties help foster the conviction that the use of cigarettes is not completely under one’s volitional control (“I was going to leave, but we danced all night.” Or, “the next thing I knew, the pack was empty”). The smoker may falsely attribute these feelings to the direct effect of the drug, rather than the set and setting.

This is only one example of the many ways in which a combination of neurobiology and anthropology can lead to new questions and fresh approaches. Where might all this be heading? “As research continues,” write Lende and Downey, “greater recognition of neural diversity as a fundamental part of human variation will surely become an even more substantive part of the neuroanthropological approach.”