We’ve been told a simple story: addiction is caused by chemical hooks in drugs. We’re taught that a substance’s inherent power is so overwhelming that a single use can lead to a lifetime of dependency. It’s a narrative of chemical tyranny, a seductive and simple explanation for a painfully complex human problem. But as Dr. Gabor Maté so powerfully argues, we should not be asking, “Why the addiction?” Instead, we should be asking, “Why the pain?” This re-framing immediately challenges the conventional narrative and points us towards a more truthful understanding.
To get to the heart of this truth, we can look to the Buddhist Wheel of Life, which describes a realm known as the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. These beings are depicted with immense, empty bellies and tiny mouths, symbolizing an insatiable hunger they can never satisfy. This is a powerful metaphor for addiction, a state of being constantly compelled to seek something outside of ourselves for relief or fulfillment, only to remain perpetually empty.
The myth of the “chemical hook” falls apart when you consider common, real-world examples. Your grandmother didn’t come out of the hospital as a heroin addict after her hip replacement, despite being given powerful, opioid-based painkillers for a week or more. Her body was exposed to the same “addictive” chemical, but she didn’t develop a compulsive behaviour. The vast majority of people who are exposed to powerful substances in medical settings do not become addicts. Even more tellingly, a vast number of Vietnam War soldiers who used heroin on the battlefield simply stopped on their own when they returned to a safe, supportive environment, without any treatment whatsoever. These anecdotes prove that the substance is not the sole cause; something deeper is at play. Addiction is not a problem of pharmacology; it is a profound human response to distress.
The compulsion we call addiction is not a product of the substance, but rather a manifestation of social and emotional disconnection. To understand this, we must broaden our scope beyond substances to include a range of addictive behaviours, such as workaholism, compulsive gambling, excessive screen time, or even compulsive shopping. What do these behaviours have in common? They are all desperate attempts to cope with a deeper need, a void left by isolation and emotional pain. This is about a person seeking an external source to fill an internal emptiness. They are a means of escaping the self, of temporarily numbing the persistent ache of loneliness, trauma, or unaddressed suffering. It’s a reminder that addiction is a subtle and extensive continuum, with its core attributes present in all addicts, from the workaholic to the impoverished substance user.
The pivotal “Rat Park” experiment by Professor Bruce Alexander serves as a powerful metaphor for this truth. The classic addiction research of the past placed a single rat in a small, isolated cage and gave it two water bottles: one with plain water and one with drug-infused water. Invariably, the rat would become addicted, eventually choosing the drug over food and even dying from overdose. This was presented as “proof” that the drug’s properties were irresistible.
However, Alexander’s experiment introduced a different model. He created a “Rat Park”—a large, social, and stimulating environment with toys, space, and a community of other rats. In this new setting, the rats had the same choice of water bottles. Yet, those in the rich, happy environment rarely chose the drugged water. When they did try it, they didn’t compulsively use it. They didn’t become addicts. This study visually and conceptually anchors the argument that a person’s environment is more powerful than any substance. The rats in the isolated cages were not addicted to the drug; they were addicted to a way of coping with their isolation. Our modern, atomised society, defined by rampant individualism and digital detachment, has created the perfect conditions for addiction to flourish. As Dr. Gabor Maté suggests, addiction is a coping mechanism for trauma and profound emotional pain, a symptom of a deeply wounded society.
Our society’s focus on individual success and material wealth has inadvertently fostered a profound sense of isolation. We are more connected than ever digitally, yet more disconnected in our real lives. Social media provides an endless stream of curated images of success and happiness, creating a constant sense of inadequacy and loneliness. The traditional social bonds of family, community, and religion have weakened. This atomisation leaves people feeling vulnerable and alone, creating a fertile ground for addiction. We are expected to solve our problems on our own, to “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps,” but this narrative ignores the fundamental human need for connection. When that need goes unmet, people will find a way to numb the pain, whether through a substance or a compulsive behaviour. We are not weak; we are simply responding to an environment that denies our most basic needs.
Our traditional approach to addiction, which is often punitive and shaming, is fundamentally flawed because it fails to recognise its true psychological drivers. We treat addicts as criminals and moral failures, when in fact, they are deeply wounded people in desperate need of help. As Dr. Brené Brown has shown, shame—the feeling that “I am a bad person”—is a core driver of addiction. It breeds secrecy, silence, and isolation. Our punitive justice system, with its “War on Drugs” and long prison sentences, reinforces this shame, trapping individuals in a cycle of secrecy and isolation. This approach doesn’t offer a path to healing; it only deepens the wound. When a person is shamed for their addiction, they are more likely to hide it, making it impossible to seek help. This cycle of shame and isolation is a self-perpetuating trap, where the person’s coping mechanism becomes the very thing that prevents them from healing.
While guilt—the feeling that “I did something bad”—has the potential to be a catalyst for change, it can also become a debilitating form of moral injury, leading to a paralysing sense of unworthiness, particularly when the harm caused feels irreparable. Guilt, unlike shame, is about behaviour. We can fix what we’ve done wrong. But when the guilt is tied to irreversible harm—the pain caused to family, the loss of a job, a broken friendship—it can become overwhelming. When guilt turns into self-loathing, it functions similarly to shame, leading to more secretive behaviour and further isolation. This is why a new approach is desperately needed. We cannot simply punish people out of their pain.
A major part of our conventional wisdom about addiction is also found in the popular 12-step model and its offshoots, such as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and Narcotics Anonymous (NA). While these programs offer a supportive community for millions, they are not without their own deep-seated flaws. As Drs. Lance and Zachary Dodes argue in The Sober Truth, the model’s emphasis on admitting powerlessness and its quasi-religious nature can be counterproductive for many. For people who are non-religious or who find the concept of a “Higher Power” unhelpful, a program that requires a surrender to an external force can feel like swapping one form of dependence for another. This highlights a critical oversight in the traditional model: it often fails to provide a genuine path to internal healing and self-mastery.
Fortunately, a clear and compassionate alternative exists. The Portuguese model, which decriminalised all drugs in 2001 and reallocated funds from law enforcement to social support programmes, serves as a primary case study for success. Instead of jailing addicts, Portugal directed its resources towards job creation, housing, and social support to help individuals reintegrate into society. Following the policy reforms, the number of drug-induced deaths and overdose fatalities dropped dramatically. Portugal’s rate of drug-induced deaths has consistently remained one of the lowest in the European Union, falling from around 80 deaths in 2001 to a low of 16 in 2012, an 80% decrease.
Prior to the reforms, Portugal had the highest rate of drug-related AIDS cases in the EU. After 2001, new HIV infections among people who inject drugs plummeted, a huge decrease that is directly linked to the health-centred approach and harm reduction initiatives like needle exchange programmes, with new cases falling by over 90%. The number of people voluntarily entering treatment programmes increased significantly. By treating addiction as a health issue rather than a crime, the government encouraged individuals to seek help without fear of legal repercussions, leading to a much higher rate of treatment participation. In the decade following decriminalisation, the number of people in drug treatment increased by over 60%.
While some critics feared a surge in drug use, the data does not support this. Drug use among the most at-risk population, young people aged 15-24, actually decreased in the years following the policy change. Overall, Portugal’s rates of drug use have remained consistently below the European average. By shifting the focus from punishment to health and social support, the model significantly reduced the number of people arrested and incarcerated for drug offences. The proportion of the prison population sentenced for drug offences fell dramatically, freeing up resources and easing the burden on the criminal justice system. This model works because it is built on a foundation of empathy, not judgement. It recognises that addiction is not a moral failing but a health issue. This contrasts starkly with the failed “War on Drugs” and shows that treating people with compassion and providing them with the resources they need to heal is not only more humane but also more effective.
On an individual level, a crucial part of this new path is cultivating self-compassion. This internal work is necessary for healing and allows a person to accept their “flawed humanity,” moving them from a place of shame and guilt towards a purposeful and connected life. Self-compassion is the practice of treating yourself with the same kindness, care, and understanding you would show to a good friend who is struggling. It’s about recognising that your struggles and mistakes are part of the human experience and that you are not alone in your suffering. This practice helps to disarm shame and allows for vulnerability, which is the gateway to genuine connection.
The practice of self-compassion begins with self-kindness, which is the conscious choice to meet your own pain not with harsh judgment, but with the same warmth and understanding you’d offer a friend. When we make a mistake, our first instinct is often to criticize ourselves mercilessly. Self-kindness challenges this habit, urging us to acknowledge our pain without adding to it through self-criticism. For a person in recovery, this might mean saying, “I’m having a really hard day, and that’s okay. I’m doing my best,” instead of “I’m so weak, I’ll never get this right.” It is a fundamental shift from an internal critic to a compassionate ally.
This is complemented by the practice of common humanity. Shame is the feeling of being uniquely flawed and alone in our struggle. Common humanity is the powerful antidote to this isolation; it’s the simple yet profound recognition that our struggles and imperfections are not unique failings, but rather part of the universal human experience that connects us all. It’s the realization that “This isn’t just me; this is what it means to be human.” This perspective helps to dissolve the secrecy and silence that shame thrives on, opening us up to the possibility of connection with others who have also struggled.
Being actively present enables a person to observe their difficult thoughts and emotions without becoming completely identified with them. It’s the practice of stepping back and witnessing your inner experience without getting lost in it. For a person with an addiction, this means being able to recognize, “I am feeling a craving right now,” rather than “I am a craving.” This helps to create a healthy relationship with our emotions, allowing us to respond to them with wisdom rather than react impulsively. It is this combination of self-kindness, common humanity, and being actively present that can start to break the cycle of shame and isolation. It allows an individual to approach their own pain with gentle curiosity, to see their mistakes as opportunities for growth rather than proof of their unworthiness, and to open themselves up to others. It is this act of self-acceptance that makes true connection with others possible, because you can’t be vulnerable with another person until you’ve first accepted your own vulnerability.
Ultimately, the most important lesson we can learn is that the opposite of addiction is not sobriety, but connection. The traditional narrative tells us that willpower and self-control are the keys to recovery, but this ignores the fundamental truth that addiction thrives in isolation and despair. Healing begins when we foster genuine human connection and build a supportive community. It is in the safety of relationships—whether with friends, family, or a therapist—that we can begin to address the underlying pain that drives addictive behaviour.
This chapter is a call to action for both policy change and individual behaviour. We must choose empathy over judgement and work to foster the kind of genuine connection in our lives and communities that can truly heal. We must demand policies that prioritise health and compassion over punishment and shame. While we need to fight for change, we also need the resilience to not let a lack of change on a political or societal level be an excuse. We must continue to do the hard, personal work of reaching beyond any fear and building a life rich in meaningful relationships, because a life connected is a life fortified against the empty promise of addiction.
Next Chapter: War: The Ultimate Failure
Bibliography:
Alexander, Bruce K. The Globalization of Addiction: A Study in Poverty of the Spirit. Oxford University Press, 2010.
Brown, Brené. Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. Avery, 2012.
CATO Institute. “Decriminalization of Drugs: A Look at the Portuguese Model.” Policy Analysis No. 642, 2009.
Hari, Johann. Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs. Bloomsbury, 2015.
Maté, Gabor. In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction. Knopf Canada, 2008.
van der Kolk, Bessel A. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking, 2014.