Long story short, Rob Ford’s recovering addict performance was unconvincing. Coyle seems to think that Ford is addicted, but not recovered. I suspect, however, that it goes deeper than that: Rob Ford, though a problem drinker, was never truly addicted in the first place. The defining feature of addiction is akrasia: using against one’s better judgement. Wanting to stop, but being unable to stop. It is not the same as merely having a drug/alcohol problem, as drugs and alcohol can cause serious problems even in the absence of an addiction, and, indeed, one can be addicted without having suffered any dramatic harm (and most users of every popular drug are not addicted and will never be seriously harmed by their use). Rob Ford was not constantly drunk, but was prone to binges, and in his excess frequently got himself into trouble. The claim that he has an addiction, as far as I can tell, was never substantiated, but was taken for granted since the news first came out about the crack video. There was, at that time, some debate about whether the allegations about using crack were correct. There was, however, no debate about what crack use signifies.
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Rob Ford’s behaviour has been problematic, to say the least. His comments and actions have been homophobic, racist, abusive and reckless, and his drinking has surely played a central role in that. There is much about him many of us we would like very much to sweep under the rug, and the narrative of addiction provides a convenient way of doing exactly that. By calling him an “addict,†we strip his actions of authenticity. If he was addicted, that means he was going against his own will, and so the struggling human can be separated from its body’s actions. This also functions collectively: by marking certain behaviours as “those of an addict,†we can place them outside of our collective self-concept (we’re not like that; he’s just sick). The realities that a great many people actually want to have an ignorant bigot for mayor, and that someone with power might actually like to get high (and not be conflicted and contrite about it), are harder to swallow than the old story that sometimes people go down bad paths in their lives and do awful things in spite of themselves. “Addiction†is, among other things, a script we can assume he’s following if we want to ignore what he actually is. And what is he?
A monster is a creature which exists across categories, which cannot be accounted for under the dominant system of thought, and which therefore threatens destabilisation, provoking a reaction of fear and hatred. It comes from the Latin verb for “to remindâ€: monsters demonstrate. In colloquial English, it also means an unredeemable villain, one guilty of cruelty and identified with the grotesque. A monster is the unthinkable and inescapable. For an addict to have made errors only to find a path to recovery and redemption would put everything in its proper place and reaffirm the social order — the gentrification of Rob Ford, defusing his potency. The definitional requirement of addiction, however, is simply absent: political manoeuvring aside, there was never any indication that Rob Ford actually wanted to stop but found himself unable to; I posit that he never wanted to stop at all: he simply likes getting drunk and high. Thus, he is a monster, haphazardly crossing the lines of race and class, revelling unreflexively in the violation of every Torontonian taboo.