"Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us 
to place principles before personalities."

	The spiritual substance of anonymity is sacrifice.  Because A.A.'s Twelve
Traditions repeatedly ask us to give up personal desires for the common good, we realize
that the sacrificial spirit -- well symbolized by anonymity -- is the foundation of them all. 
It is A.A.'s proved willingness to make these sacrifices that gives people their high
confidence in our future.
	But in the beginning, anonymity was not born of confidence;  it was the child of
our early fears.  Our first nameless groups of alcoholics were secret societies.  New
prospects could find us only through a few trusted friends.  The bare hint of publicity,
even for our work, shocked us.  Though ex-drinkers, we still thought we had to hide from
public distrust and contempt.
	When the Big Book appeared in 1939, we called it "Alcoholics Anonymous."  Its
foreword made this revealing statement:  "It is important that we remain anonymous
because we are too few, at present, to handle the overwhelming number of personal
appeals which may result from this publication.  Being mostly business or professional
folk, we could not well carry on our occupations in such an event."  Between these lines,
it is easy to read our fear that large numbers of incoming people might break our
anonymity wide open.
	As the A.A. groups multiplied, so did anonymity problems.  Enthusiastic over the
spectacular recovery of fellow alcoholics, we'd sometimes discuss those intimate and
harrowing aspects of their cases meant for their sponsor's ear alone.  The aggrieved
victims would then rightly declare that their trust had been broken.  When such stories got
into circulation outside of A.A., the loss of confidence in our anonymity promise was
severe.  It frequently turned people from us.  Clearly, every A.A. member's name -- and
story, too -- had to be confidential, if they wished.  This was our first lesson in the
practical application of anonymity.
	With characteristic intemperance, however, some of our newcomers cared not at
all for secrecy.  They wanted to shout A.A. from the housetops, and did.  Alcoholics
barely dry rushed about bright-eyed, buttonholing anyone who would listen to their
stories.  Others hurried to place themselves before microphones and cameras.  Sometimes,
they got distressingly drunk and let their groups down with a bang.  They had changed
from A.A. members into A.A. show-offs.
	This phenomenon of contrast really set us thinking.  Squarely before us was the
question "How anonymous should an A.A. member be?"  Our growth made it plain that
we couldn't be a secret society, but it was equally plain that we couldn't be a vaudeville
circuit, either.  The charting of a safe path between these extremes took a long time.
	As a rule, the average newcomers wanted their families to know immediately what
they were trying to do.  They also wanted to tell others who had tried to help them -- their
doctors, clergy, and close friends.  As they gained confidence, they felt it right to explain
their new way of life to their employers and business associates.  When opportunities to be
helpful came along, they found they could talk easily about A.A. to almost anyone.  These
quiet disclosures helped them to lose their fear of the alcoholic stigma, and spread the
news of A.A.'s existence in their communities.  Many a new person came to A.A. because
of such conversations.  Though not in the strict letter of anonymity, such communications
were well within its spirit.
	But it became apparent that the word-of-mouth method was too limited.  Our
work, as such, needed to be publicized.  The A.A. groups would have to reach quickly as
many despairing alcoholics as they could.  Consequently, many groups began to hold
meetings which were open to interested friends and the public, so that average citizens
could see for themselves just what A.A. was all about.  The response to these meetings
was warmly sympathetic.  Soon, groups began to receive requests for A.A. speakers to
appear before civic organizations, church groups, and medical societies.  Provided
anonymity was maintained on these platforms, and reporters present were cautioned
against the use of names or pictures, the result was fine.
	Then came our first few excursions into major publicity, which were breathtaking. 
Cleveland's Plain Dealer articles about us ran that town's membership from a few into
hundreds overnight.  The news stories of Mr. Rockefeller's dinner for Alcoholics
Anonymous helped double our total membership in a year's time.  Jack Alexander's famous
Saturday Evening Post piece made A.A. a national institution.  Such tributes as these
brought opportunities for still more recognition.  Other newspapers and magazines wanted
A.A. stories.  Film companies wanted to photograph us.  Radio, and finally television,
besieged us with requests for appearances.  What should we do?
	As this tide offering top public approval swept in, we realized that it could do us
incalculable good or great harm.  Everything would depend upon how it was channeled. 
We simply couldn't afford to take the chance of letting self-appointed members present
themselves as messiahs representing A.A. before the whole public.  The promoter instinct
in us might be our undoing.  If even one publicly got drunk, or was lured into using A.A.'s
name for some personal purposes, the damage might be irreparable.  At this altitude
(press, radio, films, and television), anonymity -- 100 percent anonymity -- was the only
possible answer.  Here, principles would have to come before personalities, without
exception.
	These experiences taught us that anonymity is real humility at work.  It is an
all-pervading spiritual quality which today keynotes A.A. life everywhere.  Moved by the
spirit of anonymity, we try to give up our natural desires for personal distinction as A.A.
members both among fellow alcoholics and before the general public.  As we lay aside
these very human aspirations, we believe that each of us takes part in the weaving of a
protective mantle which covers our whole Society and under which we may grow and
work in unity.
	We are sure that humility, expressed by anonymity, is the greatest safeguard that
Alcoholics Anonymous can ever have.

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