The exact numbers for AA's effectiveness are difficult to pin down due to its anonymous nature and certain factors which create inability to conduct scientific experiments, but the estimates range between 5-75%, and the estimate extremes are unlikely. AA doesn't work for many people, and I don't need it, but it can be transformative to those who stick it out. Here is the Wired magazine article exploring scientific explanations of AA and the uncertainties in determining its efficacy:backbreaker:
well i have 4 years of AA and i can tell you that it's bull****. they have a 98% failure rate for a reason.
http://m.wired.com/magazine/2010/06/ff_alcoholics_anonymous/all/1
I agree with you that there are always underlying issues and chemical abuses are always the tip of the iceberg, which will persist until the underlying issues are resolved, but it's wrong to say chemical abuses are "nothing more than learned behavior." There is more. To quote,backbreaker:
I did alot of work with chem free houses, just helping out and charing meetings. as soon as you take 80% of them out of the cem free environment, they release, and usually within days. people who had 3-6-9 months clean in AA. just taking the drug from someone does not cure them. you have to get to the root of the problem and cure the problem and the problem in most cases is that youa re ****ing programmed to buy dope/alcohol when you get money. as soon as the conditions are reset and the reward to using is higher than the risk of using you will use again. this is something that AA never addresses. they shame you into soberity.
Once an alcoholic starts drinking heavily, the mesolimbic pathway responds by cutting down its production of dopamine. Alcohol also messes with the balance between two other neurotransmitters: GABA and glutamate. Alcohol spurs the release of more GABA, which inhibits neural activity, and clamps down on glutamate, which stimulates the brain. Combined with a shortage of dopamine, this makes the reward system increasingly lethargic, so it becomes harder and harder to rouse into action. That’s why long-term boozers must knock back seven or eight whiskeys just to feel “normal.” And why little else in life brings hardcore alcoholics pleasure of any kind.
As dependence grows, alcoholics also lose the ability to properly regulate their behavior. This regulation is the responsibility of the prefrontal cortex, which is charged with keeping the rest of the brain apprised of the consequences of harmful actions. But mind-altering substances slowly rob the cortex of so-called synaptic plasticity, which makes it harder for neurons to communicate with one another. When this happens, alcoholics become less likely to stop drinking, since their prefrontal cortex cannot effectively warn of the dangers of bad habits.
This is why even though some people may be fully cognizant of the problems that result from drinking, they don’t do anything to avoid them. “They’ll say, ‘Oh, my family is falling apart, I’ve been arrested twice,’” says Peter Kalivas, a neuroscientist at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. “They can list all of these negative consequences, but they can’t take that information and manhandle their habits.”
The loss of synaptic plasticity is thought to be a major reason why more than 90 percent of recovering alcoholics relapse at some point. The newly sober are constantly bombarded with sensory cues that their brain associates with their pleasurable habit. Because the synapses in their prefrontal cortex are still damaged, they have a tough time resisting the urges created by these triggers. Any small reminder of their former life—the scent of stale beer, the clink of toasting glasses—is enough to knock them off the wagon.
AA, it seems, helps neutralize the power of these sensory cues by whipping the prefrontal cortex back into shape. Publicly revealing one’s deepest flaws and hearing others do likewise forces a person to confront the terrible consequences of their alcoholism—something that is very difficult to do all alone. This, in turn, prods the impaired prefrontal cortex into resuming its regulatory mission. “The brain is designed to respond to experiences,” says Steven Grant, chief of the clinical neuroscience branch of the National Institute on Drug Abuse. “I have no doubt that these therapeutic processes change the brain.” And the more that critical part of the brain is compelled to operate as designed, the more it springs back to its pre-addiction state. While it’s on the mend, AA functions as a temporary replacement—a prefrontal cortex made up of a cast of fellow drunks in a church basement, rather than neurons and synapses.