Review
Addiction
Culture
Film & TV
6 min read

Who’s by your side?

It’s tough to watch A Good Person. Its laser focus and tenderness prompts Lauren Windle to recall her experience of addiction and recovery.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

An old man accompanies a young woman into a wood-panelled hall, both look aprehensive.
Morgan Freeman and Florence Pugh in A Good Person
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

I don’t watch films about addiction. When I first got clean and sober almost nine years ago, I soaked in any piece of content I could find on drugs, drug use and recovery. At the time it was just YouTube clips of Russell Brand and the occasional memoir of a starlet who turned to cocaine before discovering yoga. After going to a 10:30am showing of Amy Winehouse documentary film Amy and bawling through the entire film, I decided to call it quits. I don’t need to see horrific stories of desperation – I’ve lived one. I am not a casual observer of addiction narratives; I’ve got skin in the game.  

In 2018 I went to see A Star Is Born thinking I was watching a rags-to-riches tale of an unlikely popstar. I quickly realised we weren’t there to witness the female protagonist’s ascent, so much as the male protagonist’s decent. I got back in my car and had to wait a quarter of an hour for the fit of hysterical tears to pass before I drove home. I had the same realisation watching A Good Person.  

Going in I knew that I had signed up to a film with Morgan Freeman and Florence Pugh. I knew that Pugh’s character Allison “had it all” before a “dramatic accident changed everything”. The ground here sounded so well-trodden that I thought I may need my wellies to navigate it. I knew that there was some element of addiction, but I envisaged a reasonably light touch depiction of a few too many nights on the sauce. 

I knew I was wrong when, about half an hour in, Allison lay on the cold bathroom floor to soothe her withdrawal from prescription opioids. She was sweating, shaking and breathless and from then on, it all felt distressingly familiar. The trajectory of her decline was too quick, too obvious, too accurate. As Allison bargained, manipulated and begged for drugs, I saw myself. As Allison looked directly into the mirror and said: ‘I hate you’ to her own glazed reflection, I saw myself. As Allison was dragged out of a stranger’s house party unable to stand up straight, I saw myself. 

The hopelessness, the false starts, empty promises and rare moments of lucidity rang so true, that I would find it hard to believe writer Zach Braff hadn’t experienced his own similar hardship. Either that or the recovering addicts they hired to consult on the project deserve a bonus of investment banker proportions.  

When Allison eventually reached out for help and asked a woman to sponsor her, the loving directness that came back was reminiscent of those I was given by my first sponsor. It was virtually word for word what I remember being told when I, nine days sober, made the same terrifying request. The experienced mentor told her: “Some beat it, some die.” And she’s right.  

Any of my friends who went to an in-patient treatment centre were told to look around because in five years a decent number of their cohort would be dead. And they were always right. Some people give up and let the tide of addiction pull them under. They feel exactly as Allison did when she told Daniel (played by Morgan Freeman): “I’m not sure I have the will.” And when she confessed in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting that: “Without [the pills] I want to die.” 

In the 2015 film Amy, the one that convinced me to stick to rom-coms, there’s a scene that stuck with me. Amy had been invited to perform at the Grammy’s but was denied a visa because of her well-documented drug use. It was arranged for her to live perform in London and it would be broadcast on big screens at the event. When the date came around she was in a stint of sobriety. She performed beautifully and won five Grammys. One of her friends burst into her dressing room to celebrate the momentous achievement but all Amy said was that it wasn’t as good without the drugs.  

 

You learn to love the cage you built around yourself and stop dreaming of more, because you are blind to anything beyond the walls you’ve created.

Getting into addiction means silencing that feeling in your Spirit that says that something isn’t right and you should go home. It’s consistently pushing through when you get a pit of your stomach urge to cut and run. Because you want the drugs, so you know you’ll have to take the chaos they’re packaged in. At some point you stop remembering that you ever felt uncomfortable, and you start to think you enjoy where you are, what you’re doing and the people you’re doing it with. You get Stockholm syndrome and life before your captor is a distant memory. You learn to love the cage you built around yourself and stop dreaming of more, because you are blind to anything beyond the walls you’ve created. You’re not happy, but what other options do you have? You could trade the misery of addiction for the misery of abstinence, but either way you’ll be miserable so you might as well do it with the drugs. 

Except, that’s not true. When we’re living our lives right, we’re living them in complete freedom. Slaves to no substance or behaviour with the freedom to say yes to what we want and, crucially, the freedom to say no. It’s the present Jesus gave us in the resurrection but so many of us, myself included, hand it back like it came with a gift receipt. 

I wish I’d known the dreams that would be realised, the friendships forged and the profound moments I would experience on the other side of those first, excruciating months of sobriety.

What I wish I could have told Amy at the Grammy’s, Allison in that NA meeting and myself when I first said the words: “I think I’m addicted”, is that there’s so much more than what you can currently see. I wish I’d known the dreams that would be realised, the friendships forged and the profound moments I would experience on the other side of those first, excruciating months of sobriety. I would have wanted to know that in time my grip would loosen, my knuckles would go from white back to their fleshy hue and I would be able to breathe again. It wouldn’t feel like a compromise or half a life or as though something was missing, but I would feel more fulfilled and alive than any drug would ever allow me. 

A Good Person demonstrates the chronic and repetitive condition of addiction with a laser sharp accuracy that, for someone with lived experience, could burn. But it’s also a tender reminder of the power of unlikely friendships forged from a mutual understanding of adversity. It made me think of the woman who scooped me up as I backed away from my first ever support group meeting and said: “You can sit next to me.” It made me grateful for the woman who mouthed “it’s going to be OK,” at me across the table as I sat there listening with tears rolling down my face. It reminded me of the awe I felt the first time I heard someone speak about the insomnia, shame and self-hatred of drug addiction, and I realised I wasn’t the only one. The film showed the transformative effect of consistent community in a way that I hope encourages people to turn up to one of those meetings like Allison and I did. I pray that it is the turning point in many people’s lives.  

Should you go and watch it? Absolutely. Just don’t ask me to go with you. 

Explainer
Biology
Culture
Ethics
9 min read

Ethics needs to catch-up with genetic innovation

Are we morally obliged to genetically edit?

John is Professor Emeritus of Cell and Molecular Biology at the University of Exeter.

An artistic visualisation of a DNA strand growing flowers from it.
Artist Nidia Dias visualises how AI could assist genomic studies.
Google Deepmind via Unsplash.

It makes me feel very old when I realise that Louise Brown, the first baby to be born via in vitro fertilisation (IVF), will be 47 years old on July 25th this year. Since her birth in 1978, over 10 million IVF-conceived babies have been born worldwide, of whom about 400,000 have been in the UK. Over that period, success rates have increased such that in some clinics, about 50 per cent of IVF cycles lead to a live birth. At the same time, there have also been significant advances in genetics, genomics and stem cell biology all of which, in relation to human embryos, raise interesting and sometimes challenging ethical issues. 

I start with a question: what is the ‘moral status’ of the early human embryo? Whether the embryo arises by normal fertilisation after sexual intercourse or by IVF, there is a phase of a few days during which the embryo is undergoing the earliest stages of development but has not yet implanted into the wall of the uterus; the prospective mother is not yet pregnant. In UK law, based on the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act (1990), these early embryos are not regarded as human persons but nevertheless should be treated with some respect. Nevertheless, there are some who oppose this view and believe that from the ‘moment of conception’ (there actually isn’t such a thing – fertilisation takes several hours) embryos should be treated as persons. In ‘conventional’ IVF this debate is especially relevant to the spare embryos that are generated during each IVF cycle and which are stored, deep-frozen, in increasing numbers for possible use in the future.  

A further dimension was added to this area of debate when it became possible to test IVF embryos for the presence of genetic mutations that cause disease. This process is called pre-implantation genetic diagnosis and enables prospective parents who are at known risk of passing on a deleterious mutation to avoid having a child who possesses that mutation. But what about the embryos that are rejected? They are usually discarded or destroyed but some are used in research. However, those who hold a very conservative view of the status of the early embryo will ask what right we have to discard/destroy an embryo because it has the ‘wrong genes’. And even for the many who hold a less conservative view, there are still several questions which remain, including ‘which genetic variants we should be allowed to select against?; should we allow positive selection for genes known to promote health in some way?’; should we allow selection for non-therapeutic reasons, for example, sporting prowess?’ These questions will not go away and there are already indications that non-therapeutic selection is being offered in a small number of countries. 

Genetic modification 

This leads us on to think about altering human genes. Initially, the issue was genetic modification (GM) which in general involves adding genes. GM techniques have been used very successfully in curing several conditions, including congenital severe immune deficiency and as part of treatment programmes for certain very difficult childhood cancers. One key feature of these examples is that the genetic change is not passed on to the next generation – it just involves the body of someone who has already been born. Thus, we call them somatic genetic changes (from the Greek, sōmatikos, meaning ‘of the body’).  

Genetic modification which is passed on to the next generation is called germline GM which means that the genetic change must get into the ‘germ cells’, i.e., the sperm or egg. Currently, the only feasible way of doing this is to carry out the genetic modification on the very early embryo. At present however, with just one very specific exception, GM of human embryos is forbidden in all the countries where it would be possible to do it. There is firstly the question of deciding whether it is right to change the genetic makeup of a future human being in such a way that the change is passed to succeeding generations. Secondly, there are concerns about the long-term safety of the procedure. Although it would involve adding specific genes with known effects, the complexity of genetic regulation and gene interactions during human development means that scientist are concerned about the risks of unforeseen effects. And thirdly, germline GM emphasises dramatically the possibility of using GM for enhancement rather than for medical reasons.  

Genome editing 

This leads us to think about genome editing. In 2011, it was shown that a bacterial system which edits the genomes of invading viruses could also work in other organisms This opened up a large array of applications in research, agriculture and medicine. However, the ethical issues raised by genome editing are, in essence, the same as raised by GM and so there is still a universal prohibition of using the technique with human embryos: germline genome editing is forbidden. Despite this, a Chinese medical scientist, He Jiankui, announced in 2018 that he had edited the genomes of several embryos, making them resistant to HIV; two babies with edited genomes had already been born while several more were on the way. The announcement caused outrage across the world, including in China itself. He Jiankui was removed from his job and then, after a trial, was imprisoned for three years; his two colleagues who collaborated in this work received shorter sentences. 

At present the universal prohibition of human germline genome editing remains in place. However, the discussion has been re-opened in a paper by an Anglo-Australian group.  They suggest that we need to develop heritable (i.e. germline) polygenic genome editing in order to reduce significantly an individual's risk of developing degenerative diseases. These includecoronary artery disease, Alzheimer’s disease, major depressive disorder, diabetes and schizophrenia. I note in passing that one of the authors is Julian Savulescu at Oxford who is already well-known for his view that parents who are able to do so, are ‘morally obliged’ to seek to have genetically enhanced children, whether by PGD, GM or genome editing. The use of polygenic editing, which would, in all likelihood, be available only to the (wealthy) few, fits in well with his overall ethical position. Needless to say, the paper, published in the prestigious journal Nature, attracted a lot of attention in the world of medical genetics. It was not however, universally welcomed – far from it. Another international group of medical scientists and ethicists has stated that ‘Human embryo editing against disease is unsafe and unproven …’ and even go as far as to suggest that the technology is ‘… going to be taken up by people who are pushing a eugenics agenda …’ remain very pertinent. 

Harder still and harder 

I have no doubt that amongst different reader there will be a range of opinions about the topics discussed so far. For anyone who is Christian (or indeed an adherent of almost any religious faith), one of the difficulties is that modern science, technology and medicine have thrown up ethical questions that could not have even been dreamed of by the writers of the Bible (or of other religious texts). We just have to use our wisdom, knowledge and general moral compass (and for some, prayer) to try to reach a decision. And if what I have already written makes that difficult, some recent developments multiply that difficulty still more.  

In the early years of this century, scientists developed methods of transforming a range of human cells into ‘pluripotent’ stem cells, i.e., cells capable of growing into a wide range of cell types. It also became possible to get both induced stem cells and natural stem cells to develop into functional differentiated cells corresponding to specific body tissues. This has huge potential for repairing damaged organs. However, other applications are potentially much more controversial. In 2023, Cambridge scientists reported that they had used stem cells to create synthetic mouse embryos which progressed at least as far as brain and heart formation within the normal pattern of mouse embryo development. 

At about the same time, the Cambridge group used individual human embryonic stem cells (from the blastocyst stage of embryonic development), to ‘grow’ early human embryos in the lab. There is no intention to use these embryos to start a pregnancy – indeed, it would be illegal to do so – but instead to study a period of embryo development which is not permitted with ‘real’ human embryos (research must not continue past 14 days of development). But how should we regard synthetic embryos? What is their moral status? For those who hold a conservative view of the normal human embryo (see earlier), should we regard these synthetic embryos as persons? Neither does the law help us. The legal frameworks covering in vitro fertilisation and early embryos (Human Fertilisation and Embryology Acts, 1990, 2008) do not cover artificial embryos – they were unknown at the times the legislation was drawn up. Indeed, synthetic embryos/embryo models are, in law, not actually embryos, however much they look like/behave like early embryos. Earlier this month, the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA) discussed these developments with a view to recommending new legislation, but this will not dispel an unease felt by some people, including the science correspondent of The Daily Telegraph, who wrote that this research is irresponsible.  

But there is more. In addition to synthetic embryos, the HFEA also discussed, the possible use of gametes – eggs and sperm – grown from somatic stem cells (e.g., from skin) in the lab. Some authors have suggested that the production of gametes in vitro is the ‘Holy Grail’ of fertility research. I am not so sure about that but it is clear that a lot of effort is going into this research. Success so far is limited to the birth of several baby mice, ‘conceived’ via lab-grown eggs and normal sperm. Nevertheless, it is predicted that lab-grown human eggs and sperm will be available within a decade. Indeed, several clinicians have suggested that these ‘IVGs’ (in vitro gametes) seem destined to become “a routine part of clinical practice”.  

The lab-grown gametes would be used in otherwise normal IVF procedures, the only novelty being the ‘history’ of the eggs and/or sperm. Clinicians have suggested that this could help couples in which one or both were unable to produce the relevant gamete, but who still wanted to have children. In this application, the use of IVGs poses no new ethical questions although we may be concerned about the possibility of the gametes carrying new genetic mutations. However, some of the more wide-ranging scenarios do at the least make us to stop and think. For example, it would be possible for a same-sex couple to have a child with both of them being a genetic parent (obviously for males, this would also involve a surrogate mother). More extremely, a person could have a child of which he or she was actually, in strictly genetic terms, both the ‘father’ and the ‘mother’. What are we to make of this? Where are our limits?  

Dr Christopher Wild, former director of International Agency for Research on Cancer, explores in depth many of the developments and issue I outlined above. His article on why a theology of embryos is needed, is clear, well-written, helpful and thought-provoking. 

 

This article is based on a longer blog post with full footnotes.  

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