It’s Not My Fault

It’s Monday, the sun is shining, the squirrels are scurrying about, the birds twittering happily, red and gold leaves are trembling in the autumn breeze…it’s all so delightful that I thought I’d give you a real downer of a post.

I recently heard an interview on NPR (Yes, I listen to NPR occasionally. Purely for anthropological reasons I assure you) with Ann Doswett Johnston, a recovering alcoholic, who’s the author of a new book discussing her addiction entitled, Drink.

In it, she discusses the double-sided coin of feminism, which has empowered women to drink like a man does without any stigma attaching to them, while acknowledging that because women are built differently (ya think?), they are more likely to abuse alcohol. She further points to the aggressive marketing of liquor companies aimed directly at young women. National statistics seem to support her claim of a rise of alcoholism in women, especially among the ranks of the college aged and young professionals.

In the interview, Ms. Johnston spoke candidly about her own mother’s addiction to alcohol and pills, which she vowed she would avoid. She failed. As an explanation she outlines the differences between her mother’s generation and her own, showing how easy it was for her to become an alcohol abuser. In addition to being the child of an abuser, she was also a single mother in a high stress, well-paid, profession, where it was part of the social milieu to have cocktail or two as part of the day. She was further enabled by predatory marketing, a lack of social support, and the ingrained sense that she was as strong as a man and could handle it. She came to realize this was false, and wants to let other women know about her story so they can derive support, education, and help in their own battle with substance abuse. Ms. Johnston calls for changes in our national attitudes toward women and drinking.

Very noble idea. I commend her.

Now this is the part where I flip the post on you. I don’t want to talk about women’s alcohol abuse. Instead, I want to use Ms. Johnston’s tale to highlight a common theme in our society that goes right to heart of the human condition.

When confronted with our frailty, we tend to follow a three-step program for dealing with it:

Step 1: It’s not all my fault. I’m the real victim here.

Step 2: Ya know, a lot of other people fall into the same trap.

Step 3: Identify the outside influence that’s really to blame for my failures.

Ms. Johnston’s example fits the program perfectly. First she points to heredity, society, and marketing as factors causing her abuse. She asserts (rightly in this case) that she isn’t alone in her failings, and goes on to point an accusing finger at both modern feminism and liquor manufacturers for creating the social constructs which enable women to abuse alcohol.

I’m sure you can think of many examples of people who have been confronted with their moral failures only to fall back on this line of reasoning. It’s as old as the Garden of Eden.

“The woman you put here with me gave me the fruit to eat. She ate it too. So when you think about it, it’s really your fault God.”

Before you start writing me indignant emails, allow me to accuse myself. I am the first and worst of sinners. I’m not casting stones here, I just want to make us think about how quickly we seek to avoid responsibility for our actions.

Ms. Johnston, like me and my addictions, at all times had the ability to say “no.” The pressures to deviate from the straight path that leads to life are enormous. I know of only One who never succumbed to them. And yet, I also know that it is always in my power—because of Him—to stave off those pressures, to say no to death and yes to life.

When I fail, it is my fault.