Editor's Note: This is an Eclipse piece, a special publication of two opposing opinions on the same topic. This Eclipse tackles the age-old question: To drink or not to drink? The opposing position by Leo Glasgow can be read here.
Alcohol is as unpopular as it has ever been. Recent polling suggests only 54% of Americans regularly consume alcohol, a record-low, with rates even lower among Gen Z. Public perception of its negative health effects has also sharply risen in recent years, with increasing numbers of college students swearing off it altogether. “Great!” one might be tempted to say; drinking alcohol has been shown to be bad for your physical health, and is tied to increased rates of violence, car accidents and otherwise dangerous behavior, not to mention that it is expensive ($5-10 for a pint in Collegetown) and is illegal for most undergraduates in the U.S. These facts are corroborated by major scientific establishments, and provide a compelling case for abstention. Why then, would one defend drinking alcohol?
Firstly, I want to be clear what I am advocating for. I am not defending the typical drinking culture that currently defines American college life: the cheap, god-awful Bud Lights, the odious mix of spirits in a fishbowl, the BORGs. This type of consumption, the main avenue of underage drinking on college campuses, is often dangerous, unhealthy, unpleasant and frequently results in severe intoxication. When used in moderation however, it morphs from the hazardous, hangover-inducing concoction of the fraternity party into a uniquely powerful friendship-deepening, conversation-boosting elixir.
Consider the interpersonal dynamics of drinking alcohol. What’s responsible for the decrease in social awkwardness or inhibitions when sharing a drink? Yes, neurochemical interactions, but that’s not the whole picture. When you enjoy a beer or a glass of wine with some friends or acquaintances, you are signalling a level of trust — “I trust you enough to reduce my inhibitions in your company”— which is reciprocated by your companions. Trust is a crucial component to any relationship, be it romantic or platonic, and alcohol, consumed in moderation, is an exceedingly effective device to signal this trust and in turn, deepen these connections — wine and romance are closely associated for a reason. Now, of course it is possible to engage in deep, interpersonal conversations without a drink, but it is more difficult to generate the mutual trust which is crucial for companions to move beyond small-talk. Alcohol makes it easier to be more open, to take social risks, and it comes with the added bonus of plausible deniability if you really do make a faux-pas. In an age where college students (men especially) are increasingly lonely, friendless and partnerless we would do well to encourage the time-honored practice of sharing a drink and a conversation with more friends and acquaintances.
While who you drink with and why is of primary importance, one must not underestimate the importance of the setting of drunken jollification. In the U.S. you have three options: bars, restaurants and clubs. All are designed for different kinds of social interactions, but of these three, the bar (or rather, the bar-adjacent) is the best. In England, from whence I come, we have, instead of bars, pubs. Bars and pubs share many similar components: tables, beer faucets, dim lighting, stools and the occasional amateur singer, but pubs are institutions that occupy a quite different, much more central place in England's social and cultural fabric. Pubs are the de facto meeting place of a local community: old friends, colleagues, neighbors, classmates all congregating together — enjoying music, conversation and, crucially, alcohol. The pub is one of the oldest institutions in Britain, predating even the introduction of Christianity to the island (and given current trends, may well outlast it).
Why have pubs survived so long? Interestingly, and bear with me, by bearing much resemblance to a church. The pub, like the church, unites young and old, rich and poor. It provides for the boisterous card-players just as well as for bookish intellectuals. It is frequented at predictable times. It serves alcohol. In fact, the presence of alcohol, as in a church, is central to the whole endeavor — the church uses wine to bring others into communion with each other, the pub uses beer. The point I am making is this: Like a church, the pub operates its own kind of liturgy, embodying a set of rituals which renew social bonds, strengthen local communities and diminish loneliness. Just as wine in the church allows you to participate in the body of Christ, drinking beer in a pub allows you to participate in the body politic, in the local community, by becoming more open, more trusting and more at one with your fellow man. In times of intense upheaval, social change and uncertainty, pubs have remained sources of stability, warmth and fellowship precisely because of alcohol’s powers of social unification in combination with the convivial norms of a pub.
In the U.S., bars are not as deeply integrated into the cultural fabric, and they tend to be looked at more warily: places to get drunk and listen to ‘too loud’ music, less so somewhere for long conversations, or to unwind after a busy day. I think this is a shame, and unfortunately, I am doubtful that American bars can ever properly step into the shoes of British pubs. Even more depressing, negative attitudes to alcohol as a whole in the U.S. are so ingrained that they are unlikely to change for a very long time. The Temperance movement, Prohibition and Mothers Against Drunk Driving have all played their roles in diminishing alcohol’s positive effects, showering down scorn and suspicion on its consumption. What’s the result? Well, college students (who are all ‘adults’) can’t order a beer (legally), have few places they can go in the evenings except frat parties, and when I was writing this, hundreds of Cornell students were partying for St. Patrick’s with a ‘Black-Out Rage Gallon’ (BORG) in hand. Not exactly a success story. Instead of college pubs (yes this is a thing), we have … frats?
The two options: drinking too much, or not at all. This is what a bad drinking culture looks like. Might we consider what a good one could be.
Wyatt Sell '27 is a (British) student studying Electrical & Computer Engineering. His fortnightly column, An Englishman's Perspective critiques popular social, cultural and political phenomena at Cornell and beyond. He can be reached at wsell@cornellsun.com.
