When Hope Becomes Pressure: The Ethical Dangers of Showcasing Recovering Veterans

Organisations that support veterans often aim to highlight the importance of their mission, gather public support, and demonstrate that their services genuinely make a difference. In the process, many are tempted to showcase success stories as living examples of their impact. However, when those individuals are veterans who are still in recovery from Substance Use Disorders (SUDs), the practice becomes fraught with ethical, psychological, and practical dangers. Recovery is rarely a straight path and often involves relapses, setbacks, unpredictable emotional landscapes, and vulnerabilities that can be amplified under the spotlight. The expectation that a recovering veteran can consistently embody the image of transformation and resilience demanded by promotional campaigns places an unfair and potentially hazardous burden on someone who is still rebuilding their sense of stability. It risks not only their recovery but also their life. The practice can generate shame when they relapse, fear of disappointing the public, a sense of exclusion if they struggle, and in severe cases, it can increase the risk of self-harm, drug overdose, or suicide. For these reasons, organisations must recognise the profound ethical responsibility they hold and avoid using veterans in recovery as promotional tools.

Recovery from SUDs is inherently fragile. It involves learning to navigate cravings, triggers, emotional swings, and the complicated aftermath of trauma that often underlies substance use disorders. Veterans carry a unique weight, as many have endured combat experiences, operational stress injuries, moral injuries, military sexualk trauma or the deep identity conflicts associated with transitioning from military to civilian life. SUDs can become intertwined with these unresolved traumas, making recovery an ongoing process of vulnerability rather than a neatly packaged success narrative. When an organisation selects one of these veterans to showcase in promotional materials, there is an implicit assertion that this person represents a completed transformation. The camera lens, the public stage, or the polished narrative tends to freeze them in the moment of their most confident statement, even if that moment represents only a fragile snapshot of a much more complex internal reality and as a result, the veteran may begin to feel that they must uphold this public version of themselves at all costs, even when their personal recovery is shifting underneath them.

This expectation becomes a form of pressure. Instead of focusing on healing, the recovering veteran may become preoccupied with living up to the organisation’s narrative. They may believe that relapsing is no longer simply a personal setback; it becomes, in their mind, a kind of betrayal of the organisation that showcased them, the public that applauded them, and the symbolic hope they supposedly embodied. The shame that accompanies relapse is already profound for most people in recovery and shame intensifies dramatically under public scrutiny. Rather than relapsing quietly and seeking help, the veteran may hide their struggles, isolate themselves, or turn further toward substances to cope with the growing sense of failure. The simple act of being presented as a success story can therefore create an additional emotional burden that destabilises their recovery.

The danger of shame cannot be overstated. Shame is one of the strongest emotional triggers for relapse. It tells the recovering person that they are weak, unworthy, or incapable of change. It convinces them that they have disappointed not only themselves but everyone whose expectations they feel responsible for. The veteran who has been turned into a symbol becomes particularly vulnerable to this dynamic. The identity of the “recovery champion” or the “transformed veteran” becomes something they feel obligated to protect. When their real-life recovery inevitably fluctuates, the discrepancy between their internal experience and the external image creates a painful sense of fraudulence. They may begin to believe that they were never worthy of being showcased, that their participation in the promotional effort was a mistake, or that the organisation only valued them as long as they appeared fixed and successful.

The psychological damage is compounded by the social ramifications. A recovering veteran who has been publicly linked to an organisation may feel that they cannot return to that same organisation for help if they relapse. They may believe, rightly or wrongly, that they will be silently judged, that their fall from the pedestal will be gossip within the staff, or that their presence will tarnish the organisation’s reputation. The sense of exclusion, whether real or imagined, can become devastating. Instead of an environment of safety and support, the organisation becomes associated with performance and visibility. The veteran may avoid seeking the very help they need because the shame of returning feels too overwhelming. The consequences of avoiding help can escalate rapidly, especially for someone in early recovery.

Moreover, organisations that use recovering veterans in their promotional campaigns often misunderstand the fundamental nature of SUDs. SUDs are a chronic condition. Even long-term recovery does not imply immunity from relapse. The recovery journey is not linear or predictable, and placing someone in a promotional role suggests that they have reached a destination rather than continuing on an ongoing process. This misunderstanding can lead organisations to unintentionally exploit the vulnerability of those they are trying to help. The recovering veteran may agree to participate out of gratitude, loyalty, or a desire to contribute, not realising how much emotional weight the role carries. Organisations have an ethical duty to protect vulnerable individuals from taking on responsibilities that could jeopardise their recovery, even if the individuals themselves do not immediately recognise the risks.

Another layer of danger arises from how the public perceives recovery when organisations use recovering veterans as spokespersons. Audiences prefer neat narratives, stories that begin with struggle and end with triumph. When a veteran in recovery is presented as a symbol of success, the public may assume that addiction is easily overcome with enough willpower or support. They may see relapse as a moral failure rather than a predictable part of the recovery journey. As a result, if the veteran relapses, the public’s response, whether spoken or silently assumed, can deepen the veteran’s shame. Public disappointment becomes an additional weight on top of the already daunting task of trying to maintain sobriety.

The risk of suicide in this context cannot be ignored. Veterans already experience disproportionately high rates of suicide due to trauma, depression, chronic pain, isolation, and difficulty reintegrating into civilian life. A SUD greatly increases this risk. Shame, isolation, and perceived failure are among the most potent psychological drivers toward suicidal ideation. When a veteran who has been publicly elevated as an example of recovery experiences a relapse, they may feel that they have no place to turn. Their sense of worth may crumble under the belief that they have let everyone down. The intense spotlight, once seen as a celebration of progress, becomes a suffocating reminder of expectations they feel they can no longer meet.

Similarly, the risk of drug overdose increases significantly in situations where relapse is driven underground. Many overdoses occur not because someone simply returns to using, but because they isolate themselves, hide their use, or attempt to use the amount they once tolerated before sobriety lowered their physical tolerance. A veteran who feels ashamed to admit relapse may use alone, in secrecy, without reaching out for help. They may take risks they would not otherwise take if they felt safe disclosing their struggles. The decision to hide substance use, often a direct consequence of feeling like they must maintain a public image, creates conditions in which fatal overdoses become far more likely.

Organisations often believe they are highlighting hope, but they may inadvertently push vulnerable people into silence. Even if the organisation means well, its decision to use recovering veterans in promotional activities can blur the boundary between empowerment and exploitation. Empowerment involves giving individuals genuine agency, autonomy, and supportive roles that do not jeopardise their health. Exploitation occurs when a person is placed in a position that benefits the organisation more than the individual, especially when the individual is not in a stable enough place to fully understand or evaluate the risk. Veterans in recovery often express deep gratitude to the services that help them, and that gratitude can make them more willing to participate in promotional activities. However, gratitude should never be mistaken for informed consent or stable emotional readiness.

Furthermore, promotional campaigns usually require rehearsed stories, compressed versions of complex lives that fit neatly into marketing narratives. These narratives often demand emotional vulnerability from the veteran, discussing trauma, addiction, loss, or their darkest moments. While sharing stories can be therapeutic in a supportive, clinical environment, sharing deeply personal trauma in a public context can reopen emotional wounds. It may leave the veteran feeling exposed, raw, or judged and after the cameras are gone and the event ends, the emotional fallout can be significant. Re-exposure to traumatic memories without therapeutic support can increase cravings, anxiety, nightmares, dissociation, or depressive symptoms, all of which can destabilise recovery.

Additionally, organisations may unintentionally create internal hierarchies where veterans who are willing to be publicly visible are celebrated or rewarded with more attention. This can distort the community dynamic. Veterans who are struggling may feel overshadowed or inadequate compared to the “success stories” who are showcased. Meanwhile, the veterans who are showcased may feel pressure to maintain that status, even when they secretly struggle. The dynamic becomes mutually harmful, fostering unrealistic standards and silent suffering.

The nature of promotion inherently involves messaging that is optimistic, confident, and uplifting but recovery is rarely consistent with those emotional states. Expecting someone in recovery to perform hopefulness on demand can lead them to suppress their true feelings. Emotional suppression is a common factor in relapse because it prevents individuals from processing their struggles openly. When someone cannot acknowledge their fear, sadness, or cravings without feeling they are betraying a public image, they lose access to one of the most important tools of recovery: honesty.

Organisations must also consider the long-term implications of publicly identifying someone as a recovering addict. Once a story is public, the veteran has no control over who knows about their addiction history. Potential employers, partners, acquaintances, or even strangers can access that information. The veteran may later regret having exposed personal struggles so widely, but the story cannot be retracted. Public exposure can affect employment prospects, social relationships, and the veteran’s private sense of identity. Many individuals in recovery eventually want to move beyond their past struggles and build a life that is not defined by addiction so being permanently attached to a promotional campaign that emphasises their addiction history can make it harder to move forward.

Another concern lies in the unequal power dynamic between organisations and recovering veterans. Organisations have funding, structure, stability, and authority. Recovering veterans may have psychological, financial, or social vulnerabilities that make it difficult for them to decline participation and even when phrased as voluntary, the request to appear in promotions may feel obligatory. Veterans may worry that refusing could affect their access to services, their relationship with staff, or their perceived gratitude for the support they received. This implicit pressure undermines the principle of free and informed consent. Ethical organisations must prioritise the veteran’s well-being above the desire for compelling narratives or promotional material.

There is also the risk that organisations become dependent on individuals to embody their public image. When that individual inevitably experiences difficulties in their recovery, the organisation may withdraw support, distance itself, or avoid acknowledging the challenges. The veteran may feel replaced, forgotten, or used. This sense of abandonment can worsen feelings of worthlessness or isolation, further contributing to the risk of relapse or self-harm. Organisations must recognise that if they place someone in the spotlight, they assume a responsibility to ensure that the experience does not harm the individual, and most organisations are not equipped to handle that level of ethical responsibility.

Some organisations justify using recovering veterans in promotions by claiming it inspires others. However, inspiration should not come at the expense of someone’s stability or safety. There are ways to highlight the importance of support services without turning vulnerable individuals into public symbols. Organisations can use anonymised stories, fictionalised composites, or spokespersons who are genuinely stable and experienced enough in their recovery to handle the pressure but using someone in early or fragile recovery is particularly hazardous. The early stages of recovery are the most unpredictable, and even veterans who appear confident may be experiencing internal battles invisible to the outside world.

The potential for long-term psychological harm is immense. Veterans who feel they have failed publicly may internalise the belief that they are incapable of recovery. They may believe they are beyond help or undeserving of second chances. The cycle of shame, withdrawal, and relapse can intensify into despair. In severe cases, this despair can lead to suicidal thoughts and when a veteran believes that their relapse invalidates everything they once stood for publicly, the emotional consequences can be catastrophic.

Ultimately, the ethical stance is clear: organisations should not use veterans in recovery as promotional material because doing so places vulnerable people at unnecessary risk. It prioritises organisational image over individual well-being. It turns a complex, fragile human journey into a marketing tool. It exposes individuals to shame, relapse, emotional pressure, public scrutiny, and the dangers of overdose or suicide. It distorts the reality of recovery, creates unrealistic expectations, and can inflict long-lasting psychological wounds.

Veterans deserve dignity, privacy, and protection. They deserve support that is unconditional, patient, and grounded in respect rather than exploitation. Organisations that truly aim to serve veterans must place the safety of recovering individuals above any desire for publicity. The goal should not be to display recovery, but to support it. Not to broadcast personal stories, but to create an environment in which those stories can unfold privately and safely. Recovery is not a promotional opportunity; it is a personal journey of healing that requires time, confidentiality, compassion, and understanding.

By refraining from using veterans in recovery for promotional purposes, organisations can create safer, more ethical environments that prioritise the well-being of the individuals they serve. Veterans who are rebuilding their lives deserve protection from undue pressure and exposure. Their recovery should not become a public performance or a symbol of an organisation’s success. Instead, it should be a private, supported process, free from the additional burden of living up to a public narrative that may not reflect the complexities of their ongoing journey. Such an approach honours the dignity of the veteran, respects the challenges of recovery, and upholds the highest standard of ethical care that any organisation should strive to maintain.

Tony Wright