Self-Help TC Movement 1950’s to present

Much has been written about the self-help therapeutic community movement that began with Synanon in the late 1950’s. As I make contact I will share interviews with pioneers of that movement to capture stories that will paint a picture of day-to-day life. At best, their stories may share some insight into how Synanon became the place where many drug addicts kicked their habit cold turkey to emerge as productive, happy human beings.

What Are Therapeutic Communities?

The National Institute of Health describes the therapeutic communities (TCs) as long-term residential treatment for substance use disorders (SUDs). Residential treatment for SUDs emerged in the late 1950s out of the self-help recovery movement, which included groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous. Some such groups evolved into self-supporting and democratically run residences to support abstinence and recovery from drug use. Examples have included community lodges, Oxford Houses, and TCs. The first TC was the Synanon residential rehabilitation community, founded in 1958 in California. During the 1960s, the first generation of TCs spread throughout areas of the United States. Today, the TC approach has been adopted in more than 65 countries around the world.

National Institute of Health - Self-Help Therapeutic Communities

Synanon: Stories in Recovery

Article 00101: Tough Love through the Synanon Game

First, Lasting Impression. An interview with Ted Dibble circa 1961-62

“Before we were vogue, a beacon of light for addicts, we were just a group of misfits who were fortunate to wash up on that Santa Monica Beach in the early sixties.  We survived on coffee, cigarettes and the goodwill of local grocers.  As survivors of overdoses, prison and a variety of self-inflicted setbacks, all newcomers first identified Synanon as an island of safety. A place to kick your habit and fight for a new start.

But this was no halfway house.  The requirements for membership, explained in every intake interview, proved to be a rude awakening to all beggars at the door.  A con knows a con.  So, every potential resident was disabused of any notion that we were a charity, running a flophouse for junkies.  The price of admission was a commitment to creating clean man days.  “Pull your weight.  Stay clean.  Or, just  leave and don’t let the door hit you in the ass.

There was a core group who locked arms with Dederich to make this idea a reality.  I joined racially mixed group of veterans Betty C., Lena L, Reid K, Candy L., Oscar C, Jack and Terry H., all recovering addicts who forged a contract to keep each other on the right track.  One day at a time.  After hitting rock bottom, we were all in search of a better way to live. And we subscribed to the mantra that criminal A helps criminal B, helps criminal A.

One vehicle that kept this band of brothers and sisters on track was the game.

In those days the game was not a public spectacle. You gathered for two hours in a circle of chairs with a dozen people to pursue a line of no line.  Indict and defend.  Equal opportunity verbal abuse.  In the game you were always wrong.  You could swear, lie, exaggerate and attempt to humiliate anyone.   Just no violence or threat of violence. 

In addition to verbal wrestling, the game provided an outlet for anger, frustration, pouting, self-pity and disappointment.  From time to time, the game became a confessional.  

Leaders emerged as black-belt gamers.  They, like me, became consistently effective at using humor, ridicule and self-deprecation for exposing the faulty logic and ridiculous, self-destructive behavior exhibited by struggling newcomers.  At our best, we practiced a form of verbal jujitsu that left fools lying flat on their backs, laughing, crying, or both.   

First games for most newcomers were quite shocking.  A trial-by-fire that served as a right-of-passage into our community.   After a rough session, a humiliated newbie spotted wandering toward the coffee urn would be intercepted by a veteran.   He would be invited to join the vets for coffee and light-hearted conversation.

‘You survived that game.  Welcome to the club.’ 

That was a practice of love I had never seen.  It was a practice I embraced throughout my 25-year Synanon career.“

Interview with Ted Dibble

Andre, the last sentence says it all. For the essay itself, Henry Kissinger would say, "it has the added advantage of being true."   

Ted Dibble

Article 00102:

TC Pioneers

Produced by Amity Foundation USA

Meet some of the original Synanon pioneers who went on to found and manage Walden House, Phoenix House, Daytop Lodge and several other offshoots that represent the birth and growth of the Self-Help Therapeutic Community Movement:

No Discussions Yet

Discuss Article