How We Talk about Substance Use




 

I was alerted to a brief article entitled “Destigmatizing Drug Abuse Is a Dopey Idea.” The author, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute (apparently a right-wing think tank), calls attention to recent trends in the substance abuse field to change the language of addiction in ways that minimize stigma. We now almost universally employ what is sometimes referred to as “people-centered language.” For instance, instead of using the term “addict” or “substance abuser,” which defines people solely by their disorder, we prefer to use the phrase “person with substance use disorder,” simply to acknowledge that he or she is still a person!

This article’s author thinks that all of this is nuts and perhaps wants to return to the good old days when we called a drunk a drunk and a junkie a junkie. While her argument is more than a little mean-spirited, it is not without some merit. The author cites, as one example, the trend to call men who hit their wives “intimate partner violence users” instead of “batterers” or “perpetrators.” (At least our field is consistent!) My worry is that modifying the language can unintentionally minimize the severity of the problem. We can’t lose sight of the fact that substance use disorder and domestic violence are extremely serious and often deadly problems.

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I was first introduced to the importance of language many years ago, when I started to work as a psychologist. At treatment programs for people struggling with substance abuse, patients are asked to undergo urinalysis testing to assess what types of drugs they are using. Patients (and professionals) often refer to the results as either being “clean” or “dirty.” My mentor was strict about avoiding this language. He taught me that when patients say that they are “dirty,” they are often telling us what they think about themselves, and we need to be sensitive about that.

Much of the attention directed toward language addresses the thorny issue of stigma. Stigma, which can come from the person with the disorder (self-stigma) or from society (public stigma), is a badge of shame. The American Psychological Association defines stigma as “the negative social attitude attached to a characteristic of an individual that may be regarded as a mental, physical, or social deficiency. A stigma implies social disapproval and can lead, unfairly, to discrimination against and exclusion of the individual.”

What we worry about is that disproportionate social disapproval might increase the amount of embarrassment a person feels about his condition. It might even harm the quality of treatment he receives when the disapproval comes from a health practitioner. Our patients often discuss the precise moment when their physician reads in the chart that he or she has a history of substance use disorder – the entire facial expression changes immediately, and a previously warm and friendly doctor can become terse and quite prickly.

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But here is the twist. Social disapproval is not always a bad thing. We rely on social disapproval to prevent a lot of disruptive behavior, from substance misuse to bullying to crime. The concept of stigma is complicated because some social disapproval is quite valuable. The same can be said about shame. While humiliation can be incapacitating, a little shame might motivate behavior change. For years, our rabbis have relied on this formulation!

Let us take another example to add more complication. A patient of mine complains that his family is always watching their wallets and purses when he is at home. It feels undignified and stigmatizing. Yet he admits that he has stolen from his family in the past to support his addiction! In fact, theft is often a defining feature of the disorder. It is all very complex.

There are at least two forces that drive the momentum to change the way we speak about addiction. The first is purely humanistic: We hope to be a kinder and more benevolent society that accepts the fact that many people have challenging problems and deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. In fact, a large part of the current drive to consider addiction as a brain disease stems from the very humanistic position that people should not be blamed for their own disorder.

The second is to provide a possible strategy for one of the most perplexing mysteries in the field: Why do so many people who have substance use disorder fail to seek treatment? For almost any other psychiatric or medical condition, people generally want to have their problem fixed. Why is having a substance use disorder different? Why do many people with this disorder go years before seeking care, and only do so with cajoling and pressure from outside sources?

Our field hopes that part of the answer to these questions lies not only in the person with the disorder but in circumstances that prevent treatment-seeking: economic and transportation liabilities, poor access to care, and so forth. These issues might be something that, as a just society, we can correct. We add to this list the presence of stigma. Is it possible that many people with substance use disorder do not seek treatment because they are simply ashamed of presenting their problem to a health professional? It is certainly not unreasonable to think that stigma might account for some people’s unwillingness to address their problem, though, of course, the issue is obviously quite complex and difficult to fix.

One thing I know for sure is that many people in our community struggle with substance abuse problems. Some are trying to juggle their own substance use and family (as well as religious) obligations. Others are married to a spouse with substance use disorder. Still others have a child who is starting to drink or use drugs and neglecting responsibilities. I have spoken with many of these people. I know that they feel ashamed, worried, and often frightened.

I would like to think that all of this means that we need to be kinder toward each other and more tolerant of our weaknesses. Children and adults with substance use disorder often feel alone in our community with nowhere to turn. Families of people with substance use disorder feel isolated and are often afraid to share this knowledge with professionals. Exercising non-judgmental goodwill and sympathy to people and families struggling with substance use disorder might not help them solve these very significant and often scary problems. But, as our grandmothers were known to say, it wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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