Why the Jaywalker Analogy in AA Falls Short—and Why That Matters
In the AA Big Book, the jaywalker analogy is used to illustrate the irrational behavior of alcoholics:
Our behavior is as absurd and incomprehensible with respect to the first drink as that of an individual with a passion, say, for jay-walking. He gets a thrill out of skipping in front of fast-moving vehicles…”
This metaphor (or analogy—depending on how you parse it) is meant to highlight the baffling nature of relapse. But after hearing it referenced in two recent meetings, I feel compelled to offer a respectful critique.
The Problem with the Jaywalker
- It trivializes the adversary: Alcoholism is described in AA as “cunning, baffling, and powerful.” Jaywalking is reckless, yes—but it’s not cunning. It doesn’t whisper through emotional crevasses or exploit stress fractures in your soul.
- It ignores emotional context: Jaywalking doesn’t quiet the chaos in your head. It doesn’t numb guilt, dilute shame, or offer false intimacy. Alcohol does.
- It misses the positive stressors: The adversary doesn’t just prey on pain. It seduces through joy, celebration, and lowered inhibitions—dancing, flirting, singing. Jaywalking doesn’t offer that kind of release.
- It defines the problem lazily: If we accept the jaywalker analogy, we risk defining alcoholism as mere irrationality. But alcoholics don’t drink because they want to get hit by a bus. They drink because the adversary makes a compelling case—especially when life is loud, lonely, or even euphoric.
Why This Matters
Lazy analogies lead to lazy diagnostics. And if we misdiagnose the problem, we miss the early warning signs. No one wakes up thinking, “I feel like jaywalking today.” But many of us have felt the pull when:
- We’re stuck in a hotel for weeks, buried in spreadsheets, chasing phantom errors.
- We’re craving connection, expression, or just a break from the grind.
- We’re drawn to the thrill of being seen, heard, or held—even if it’s fleeting.
A Better Analogy?
If we must use metaphor, let’s upgrade. The adversary is more like a skilled saboteur—one who knows your weak points and your dreams. He doesn’t push you into traffic. He whispers, “You deserve a break,” “You’ve earned this,” “Just one won’t hurt.”
Final Thought
AA is built on spiritual clarity and rigorous honesty. Let’s honor that by giving the adversary the respect it deserves—not to glorify it, but to outsmart it. Recovery isn’t just about avoiding buses. It’s about learning to spot the saboteur before he gets the mic.
Jason Bresnehan
Jason is a fixer—of businesses, of broken momentum, and occasionally of entire spiritual frameworks gone sideways. He speaks fluent boardroom and AA, deploys Catholic doctrine with the subtlety of a scalpel, and isn’t afraid to lace his insights with both war-room metaphors and dad-sermon tenderness.
Founder of Evahan, a consultancy built on the idea that legacy and liquidity don’t need to fight, Jason draws on 30 years of commercial grit, tactical leadership, and emotional radar to help people rebuild what entropy took. He works with companies, communities, and recovery misfits alike—often using the same principles to sort both cap tables and chaotic lives.
Jason draws deep inspiration from historical figures who got results—especially those who led from the margins, built with scarce resources, and refused to be shackled by conventional wisdom. He’s known for assembling unorthodox teams of passionate experts to solve complex problems in chaotic environments. Whether in boardrooms, recovery communities, or legacy disputes, Jason’s approach is rooted in common purpose, tactical innovation, and the belief that clarity thrives when paradigms are challenged.