<em><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/life/farout/story/0,,1496694,00.html" target="new" >Bruce Alexander</a> questions an outdated myth about addiction</em>

From the <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/connected/main.jhtml?xml=/connected/2006/04/11/ecdrugs11.xml" target="new">Daily Telegraph</a> 11/04/2006 (Thanks Mike Jay!)

Although most medieval superstitions have died out, the myth of demon possession lives on. In the 19th century, many people came to believe that anyone who voluntarily consumed distilled liquor became helplessly possessed, having no choice but to feed an insatiable craving for the "demon drink".

This idea continued to be applied into the 21st century, essentially unchanged, to a parade of new drugs, including morphine, heroin, cocaine, marijuana, meprobamate, barbiturates, methylamphetamine, benzodiazepines and ecstasy.

All have been said to take control of the people, just as a demon possesses its victim, and the myth survived modern scepticism because it was (and still is) spread by governments and police, and by medical authorities and journals as scientific fact.
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The myth is more believable for illegal drugs, because many addicts, by confessing their initial error of drug experimentation, can claim to be "out of control" and less fully responsible for their behaviour.

Many scientists have set out to expose the demon drug myth, but found themselves overpowered by it instead. In the late Seventies, for instance, my colleagues and I re-examined some simplistic rat research, which was based on a contrivance that allowed rats to inject a jolt of heroin by pressing a lever on the wall. Under certain experimental parameters, these rats would dope themselves silly, not even taking time out to eat. This was taken as evidence for the demon drug myth.

But these rats, a highly gregarious species, were isolated for life and tethered with rubber tubing that catheterised their jugular veins. Such extreme isolation and discomfort might well make euphoriants irresistible. We tested this possibility by building <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/life/farout/story/0,,1496694,00.html" target="new" >Rat Park</a>, where rats could enjoy the company of their fellows, raise their pups and run around freely.

We gave them unlimited access to morphine and control rats, kept in isolation, were also given free access to morphine. The isolated rats consumed lots of morphine, while the rats in Rat Park took relatively little. We published the results and waited for the myth of demon drugs to disappear as the news of our discovery spread. To make a long story short… nobody noticed.

Now it is 2006, and the myth continues almost unabated. Yet the evidence against it has become overwhelming. Take, for example, very recent studies by David Shewan and Phil Dalgarno of Glasgow Caledonian University and by Hamish Warburton, Paul Turnbull and Michael Hough of the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, York. Both teams studied people who have used heroin for years without becoming junkies.

They take their supposedly addictive drug the way the rest of us use our own habits, crutches or "non-addictive" drugs. Most of them work, maintain their families, and stay out of trouble. Inadvertently, they serve as guinea pigs to disprove the demon myth.

Another line of evidence is summarised in my forthcoming book, The Globalisation of Addiction, which is more directly related to Rat Park, although based on anthropological rather than animal research.

Many tribal people have been researched both before and after the destruction of their cultures by European colonisation. After their cultures were destroyed, addiction to alcohol became a feature of these formerly non-addicted people. Why did this occur? There is ample evidence to rule out both the myth of demon drink and that of aboriginal peoples' genetic weakness for alcohol.

An intact culture, whatever its disadvantages, provides a fullness of life that rules out addiction. Aboriginal people lived with a sense of meaning and identity that enabled them to comprehend the world and feel that they belonged within it. When their cultures were destroyed, this psychosocial integration disappeared and they turned to the same artificial satisfactions that sustained their invaders. The life of an alcohol addict, for example, is not one of solitary alcohol infusion - rather, it entails intense interaction with other alcoholics and co-dependents.

Certainly, alcoholic society is impoverished relative to an intact culture. None the less, it is vastly richer than no society at all. Colonised aboriginal people were not isolated in cages, like the residents of Rat Park. Their culture disappeared, even though the people remained.

Perhaps this view of addiction does not bode well for a globalising world, but it is better supported than the discredited myth of demon possession that has obscured these issues for far too long. Moreover, it points towards fresh solutions to an intractable problem.

Bruce Alexander, emeritus professor, Simon Fraser University, will be speaking at 'Unhooked Thinking: the Conference on Addiction', April 19-21, Assembly Rooms, Bath.