Setting the Standard: Why Real Certification Matters Now More Than Ever

Tennessee has made real progress in recovery housing over the past few years—but that progress is at risk if we lose sight of what “certification” actually means.

With the passage of HB1351/SB1240, the Commissioner of the Tennessee Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Services now holds the authority to designate which organizations may certify recovery residences. On paper, this offers a path to protect quality and promote consistency. Without clear guardrails, however, it also creates opportunities for confusion, fragmentation, and even exploitation.

We’ve seen what happens when states wait too long to act.

In Florida, the legislature quickly designated FARR as the sole certifying body after a wave of unvetted groups began presenting themselves as credentialing authorities—with no recognized affiliation or national oversight. In Virginia, only homes certified by VARR, the state’s NARR affiliate, may legally call themselves recovery residences. These policies were not examples of government overreach. They were course corrections—put in place after the system was already being undermined. Florida and Virginia are not outliers; they are part of a broader national pattern where states have had to step in to protect the integrity of recovery housing when informal or self-appointed systems failed to do so.

Tennessee does not need to learn the hard way.

TN-ARR is the only organization in Tennessee affiliated with the National Alliance for Recovery Residences (NARR), the leading authority on recovery housing standards in the United States. NARR’s guidelines are grounded in the Social Model of Recovery and reflect nationally recognized best practices. This framework is supported by SAMHSA, aligned with the ASAM Continuum of Care, and endorsed by the National Council for Mental Wellbeing.

These are not abstract ideals. They are concrete, evidence-based standards designed to ensure recovery residences offer dignity, safety, and true community for people rebuilding their lives. That kind of structure is what separates legitimate recovery housing from loosely regulated models that leave residents vulnerable—because without it, the term “recovery residence” becomes meaningless, open to anyone with a house and a claim. In practice, that can mean overcrowded, unsupported environments with no grievance process, no structure, and no meaningful accountability.

Groups with no formal connection to NARR that present themselves as certifiers are not offering a national standard. They are offering branding without substance. Presenting as a certifier is not the same as doing the work of certification. That work requires oversight, experience, and the humility to operate within a national system of accountability. Without that infastructure in place, there is no vetted oversight system. No structured peer reviews. No national training pipeline. No accountability to a larger, ethically bound network of states.

The conversation around certification often misses the point. Certification is not about politics, control, or even providers. It is about residents—people trying to rebuild their lives after addiction. Certification exists to protect them from exploitation, to promote ethical recovery housing practices, and to ensure that peer-based support is more than a marketing buzzword.

Recovery housing is not a loophole, but rather a steppingstone. It is where one begins to build a foundation for lasting change.

Across the country, a national movement is taking shape—one that raises the bar for what recovery housing can and should be. Tennessee is already part of that movement. Staying there will require that certification remain rooted in experience, structure, and national alignment, not reinvented by groups with good intentions but no qualified framework.

Failure to get this right will leave us cleaning up confusion, correcting harm, and trying to restore trust that should never have been compromised.

We do not need to be the next cautionary tale.

We have the tools.

We have the standard.

Now we need the discipline—and the political will—to protect both.