Anonymity has become a big issue lately. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that, in some respects, it is no longer an issue at all. There was a time when the admonition to preserve anonymity at the level of press, radio and film was pretty-much sacrosanct. Absolutely no reputable journalist or medium would have dreamed of breaking anyone’s anonymity. Movie stars, sports figures, politicians, judges — all could attend treatment or meetings without fear of the media blowing their cover. Even if someone had recognized them, the damage would have been minimal because there would have been no market for the information.

As is obvious to anyone who has access to any form of electronic or print media nowadays, that is no longer the case. We are bombarded from all directions with stories about B’s latest stay in rehab (complete with photos and video from her latest relapse), all the speculation about whether A is going to treatment, whether M’s career was ruined by his latest escapade — we could increase the list, as the book says, ad infinitum — and ad nauseam as well.

This is a function of the media’s disrespect for privacy in general, along with the need to fill the bottomless maw of 200-plus TV channels and thousands of websites. There is really no resolution. On the other hand, I have sat in meetings chaired by people with well-known faces who are completely ignored by the paparazzi, simply because no one cares what a 60-year-old man or woman does in his spare time (unless it involves a photogenic partner). However, if you’re one of the beautiful people — and especially if you are careless about your attire — it’s open season and you’re the rabbit.

Such episodes are excellent examples of the damage that can be done. For every person who looks at Ms. S’s record and thinks her behavior is because she’s a spoiled brat, there is some poor addict in denial who’s thinking, “See, that treatment junk is a waste of time. She went to the best rehab in the world, and she’s still….”

I tell people that I have no anonymity; that I drank and drugged publicly and I consider it a privilege to recover publicly. Despite that, however, I do not advertise my membership in a particular 12-step program. I often mention attending meetings, in my writing and elsewhere, but not which meetings. I speak knowledgeably about AA, NA, and other fellowships, but I don’t talk about membership. I have what I believe are good reasons for that, and I’d like to share my thoughts with you.

As I see it, there are three basic reasons for anonymity in a program of recovery: protection of the recovering alcoholic/addict, protection of the program itself and — finally — humility.

First of all, if we wanted to tell people we were members of a particular fellowship that would be our business, and ours only, provided that we did it on a personal level. We might do so when speaking to people one-on-one, or in small groups under conditions where privacy can be presumed, because friendships are enhanced by such honesty under most conditions. Then, too, that revelation might raise opportunities to bring the 12th Step into play.

The area where we need to be careful is in speaking publicly — whether or not on camera. Any number of celebrities can tell you of the damage that can be done by a mobile phone video. We need to be sure that we’re not thought to be speaking for a particular fellowship. If we set ourselves up as some sort of recovering guru, how is the program going to look if, six months from now, one of those folks sees us drunk behind a dumpster, or in the ER being treated for an overdose?

It could happen to you, or me. If you don’t think it could, speak to your sponsor.

There are excellent reasons, however, for my not breaking your anonymity. You might be hindered in your employment if word got out. You might be an airline pilot with 10 years in recovery who had neglected to tell the FAA about her problem — required by law — and might lose your livelihood due to my big mouth. It could simply be an issue that you find embarrassing. It’s not my business. My business is to keep what I have learned about others in the rooms to myself, period. (Whether or not the airline pilot is behaving ethically in that situation is not the issue; it’s my behavior we’re discussing. BTW, that is not a hypothetical example.)

The last, and perhaps best, reason that I can think of for sticking with the tradition of anonymity is humility. It makes me just “another bozo on the bus.” If I’m going try to be a guru, it’s going to have to be on my own merits, not those of the program. That’s good for me and for the program, because my opinions often vary somewhat from more traditional positions. When they do, I need to take the credit — and the criticism.

Anyway, those are a few of my thoughts about the issue, and I’m only speaking for myself. Your mileage may vary.