Introduction: The Concept of “Addict” as Enslavement
The word “addict” finds its origins in the Latin term addictus, which means “to be bound” or “to be enslaved.” In ancient Rome, the term referred to individuals bound to another, stripped of their freedom and agency, with another person or force governing their actions and decisions. When we speak of addiction as slavery, we imply a similar loss of agency: a condition where desires, thoughts, and substances dictate actions beyond an individual’s control. This slavery extends beyond physical dependence; it encompasses the control exerted by thoughts and emotions, creating a form of bondage that precedes addiction to any specific substance.
A Historical Parallel: Spartacus and the Power of Myth
Consider the story of Spartacus, a Thracian slave and gladiator who led a massive uprising against the Roman Republic. Spartacus, or “Atticus Spartacus,” as some records refer, symbolized a man of servitude who harnessed myth to challenge an empire. His power was not in weaponry or sheer force, nor did he have Hannibal’s elephants to scale the Alps. Instead, he wielded a powerful narrative—an idea of freedom so compelling that thousands rallied to his cause. His rebellion illustrates the potency of fiction and myth in mobilizing human behavior, showing that shared stories can unite people in ways mere survival cannot.
The myth of Spartacus carried more weight than logic or reason, providing a rallying cry for thousands who sought liberation. Likewise, in addiction, personal mythologies—narratives of resentment, lost opportunities, or imagined futures—hold immense power. These internal stories enslave us as powerfully as any substance, shaping our decisions, emotions, and ultimately, our lives.
The Cognitive Revolution and the Power of Fiction
What sets Homo sapiens apart from other species is our capacity for abstract thought and complex cooperation. In Sapiens, historian Yuval Noah Harari discusses the “Cognitive Revolution,” a period roughly 70,000 years ago when our ancestors developed the capacity to create and believe in shared fictions. Unlike Neanderthals, who shared our brain’s anatomy, Homo sapiens began weaving narratives that allowed for large-scale cooperation—stories of gods, tribes, kingdoms, and laws.
This evolution enabled us to transcend the here-and-now, to create societies bound by ideas rather than mere survival needs. Fiction, or myth, became a tool that enabled humans to cooperate at scales no other species could. A lion by the river is not merely a predator but might become the “spirit” guarding the land, a sacred protector whose narrative lives beyond any immediate threat. Such stories embedded meaning, gave direction, and shaped human behaviors across generations.
Addiction, too, thrives on internal myths. For the addict, the mind becomes a “dream machine,” spinning tales of resentment, imagined futures, or idealized pasts. These narratives create a personal mythology that feels inescapable, reinforcing the cycle of substance use or other compulsions.
The Internal Slavery of Addiction: Alcoholics Anonymous and the Role of Narrative
In the foundational text of Alcoholics Anonymous, we encounter characters like Jim and Fred, individuals who initially find sobriety but eventually relapse. Jim, for instance, takes a job at a car dealership he once owned, stoking memories of his former life. Despite having no initial thought of drinking, he finds himself rationalizing a drink—if mixed with milk, it surely wouldn’t harm him.
Jim’s struggle illustrates the “slavery” of internal narrative. Even with sobriety, his mind clings to an idealized vision of the past, creating torment. He remains bound to his thoughts, reliving a life he believes he lost. In this way, addiction extends beyond the substance itself; it thrives in the narratives we tell ourselves, in the isolation and inner dialogue that goes unshared. Only when these stories are brought to light—through the steps of AA, therapy, or authentic connection—can we begin breaking the bonds that addiction thrives upon.
Fiction in the Brain: The Neuroscience of Freedom and Choice
The human brain’s evolution allows us to suspend immediate reactions and engage in reflective thought, a capacity neuroscientists associate with the frontal lobes. Navy SEAL training, for instance, teaches soldiers not merely to “fight or flee” but to “freeze” under pressure, allowing them to access higher-level thinking. This “freeze” response bypasses the midbrain’s automatic reactivity, tapping into the frontal cortex where true liberty and choice reside.
This neurological distinction between automatic reactivity and reflective choice underscores a profound insight into addiction and recovery. Addiction feels like slavery not only because of physical dependence but because it traps us in reactive cycles, preventing us from accessing our full cognitive and emotional potential. As we cultivate awareness and practice mindfulness (akin to the “freeze” training of Navy SEALs), we learn to pause, to observe, and eventually to choose differently.
The Path to Liberation: Breaking Free from the “Dream Machine”
In long-term recovery, true freedom arises not from the elimination of desires or thoughts but from the ability to observe them without attachment. Psychologist Michael Gazzaniga and other researchers argue that what we often call “free will” might better be understood as “free won’t”—the capacity to withhold reaction, to let go of thoughts without acting on them. This form of liberty transcends preferences, likes, and dislikes; it is an open awareness of the mind’s constant churn.
In this sense, liberty in recovery is not the power to control thoughts but the ability to choose where we direct attention. By engaging in practices like Step 11 (sought through prayer and meditation to improve conscious contact with a higher power), individuals learn to “let go” of compulsive narratives, experiencing a deeper sense of agency.
Conclusion: Fiction, Myth, and Freedom
The journey from addiction to recovery parallels the human journey from instinctual reaction to conscious awareness. Just as Spartacus harnessed the power of myth to lead a rebellion, we too must recognize the myths we live by—both personal and cultural. Joseph Campbell reminds us that myths are the “masks of God,” offering windows into our deepest truths and guiding us toward transformation. Only by examining and, where necessary, rewriting these internal stories can we break free from the bonds of addiction. In doing so, we can reclaim the agency that defines true freedom, moving beyond the slavery of thoughts, desires, and substances to live with greater clarity, compassion, and purpose.
Today, on Election Day, it’s worth pausing to consider how these shared fictions continue to shape our lives. The United States, for example, is ultimately a concept—a detailed “meme” constructed of documents, ideals, and beliefs inscribed on parchment. It exists only because large groups of people believe in it and hold it together. Without humans, human rights and countries do not continue. They are constructs that must be nurtured, protected, and, as needed, evolved.
Our maps, our nations, and our systems of law are agreements, imagined but collectively believed in. This belief enables millions to cooperate, to resolve conflict through civil discourse, and to consolidate resources for the benefit of all. These shared myths, like any, require vigilance: a commitment to discern between myths that help us cooperate, myths that harm us, and those that we tell only ourselves.
References:
• Harari, Y. N. (2015). Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind. Harper.
• Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc. (1939). Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of How Many Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered from Alcoholism.
• Gazzaniga, M. S. (2011). Who’s in Charge?: Free Will and the Science of the Brain. HarperCollins.
• Maté, G. (2009). In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction. North Atlantic Books.
• Campbell, J. (1988). The Power of Myth. Doubleday.