The Barman: Why Prohibition Didn’t Work

Neither of my parents were big drinkers while I was growing up. I do remember sitting down to dinner one evening at the age of 13 (my sister was 17) and seeing four Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers awaiting us, the caps popped off, drops of condensation sliding down the foil label as if racing for the table top.
I felt a trap coming. Like a drug dealer who realizes a deal is about to go bad, I glanced at my sister with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She just shrugged. My parents announced that while they didn’t endorse under-aged drinking, they hoped that educating us on drinking responsibly and openly would lay a foundation of trust, meaning they were chasing the impossible dream that we would call them anytime we became really wasted with our friends and needed a ride home.

With that, we all raised our wild berry wine coolers and toasted responsible drinking. Despite the fact that I had been drinking since I was 10, I put on an awful display of acting, pretending that I abhorred the taste and wanted nothing to do with this demon practice until I was at least 42 years old. This pleased them immensely as they envisioned a life in which their kids just said no to alcohol.

These are the things fairy tales are made of. But the point is they gave me a choice, which is more than some people had in past years. On Jan. 16 we observe the 92nd anniversary of one of the darkest day in American history, from a personal rights standpoint: the prohibition of alcohol.

Don’t get me wrong. I recognize that the forces behind prohibition—namely The Women’s Christian Temperance Union and the Anti-Saloon League—were noble in their intent. They felt that the nation was falling apart economically as well as in the home and something had to be done. In their minds, from the banning of alcohol a sober nation of gentler, clear-minded citizens would be born and all of life’s problems would be magically sucked into the rabbit hole. Politicians would suddenly be shocked into morality and corruption would up and drift away like hot ashes in the wind.

Oh, the irony! Instead, corruption and crime skyrocketed while the money it cost to finance the war on alcohol, and the taxes lost on its sales, created a worse economic situation for the government than they had before. Prohibition also caused the price of alcohol to soar, which was a big incentive for the criminals who saw a golden opportunity to reap the benefits. In addition, politicians were taking bribes, and the number of bars in America actually doubled during the 13-year ban.

Despite my love for the almighty hootch, this isn’t about the booze. Though my parents’ idealistic visions could be comedic at times, they were onto something when they offered their 13-year-old son an alcoholic beverage:  Steel-fisted restriction invites rebellion, which eventually leads to deceit. On a more global and societal level, it breeds corruption. Perhaps my parents didn’t have it all mapped out in such detail, but the general notion was kicking around upstairs.

I don’t know about you, but the biggest tramps I know today either went to Catholic school, or some other private school that segregated by gender where co-existing with members of the opposite sex was forbidden. Same goes for the college kid who sucks down four Super Big Gulps a day because he was not allowed to drink soda until the age of 16. The truth is: The more we’re told to stay away from something the more we think, “I’ve got to have it!”

Even so, at least in their youth the Catholic school girl and the Big Gulper didn’t know what they were missing. One of the main reasons prohibition failed is that the government tried to revoke a right—an American pastime—that had already been in practice for centuries. Imagine if cell phones were suddenly outlawed, or the Internet, or (please God, no) Tivo. It ain’t happening, brothers and sisters.
Prohibiting our right to self-indulge is nothing short of oppression. While chivalrous in its attempt, you can’t clean up the nation by suspending rights and freedoms, even if they present a risk. Risks are part of life. They provide enjoyment and excitement and, more importantly, they allow us to learn from our experiences.

I didn’t grow up in the 1920s, but I still know plenty of prohibitionists today.  Maybe not all of them are focused on alcohol, but in one form or another, they want to choke out danger until each of us is sitting in a Lazy-Boy in our living rooms, houses locked down, helmets on, eating our organic peas and watching the PBS special “Why Stepping Out Your Front Door Can Kill You.”

These are the same fanatical nut jobs who want Walnut Creek bars shut down at 10:00. They are the people who piloted the movement to ban playing tag at school. TAG. A game that has been around since Abraham Lincoln was a kid but has suddenly become an evil beyond measure for parents who had a child fall down and hurt him/herself. So they spend all their energy and every waking hour circulating petitions and holding up picket signs until children are no longer allowed to run or touch each other for fear of having too much fun at the cost of a skinned knee.

Let’s get to the burning question that’s on everyone’s mind: “But, Barman, what about all the drunk driving and senseless alcohol-related deaths? What about alcoholism?”

I am not in any way, shape or form defending the super-sized moron who climbs behind the wheel after drinking. Nor am I defending any such irresponsible behavior such as college hazings or the countless other idiotic acts that occur from alcohol. But you cannot make a law prohibiting a self-indulgence based on the poor choices of some. You can, but if you ban one of them, you have to ban them all. Otherwise the people will catch on to your hypocrisy and rebel in a violent and corrupt fashion. Consider this:

Of the 44,000 people who died last year in an auto accident, 10,800 of them were alcohol-related. That means approximately 75 percent, or 33,200 people, died in sober-related driving accidents. It doesn’t take alcohol for people to drive like an idiot. Sounds like a driving prohibition is in order. Let’s look at some other stats that demonstrate the result of risky behavior in our society:

• 5,000 people drowned last year.
• 8,600 people died from poisonous liquids or solids in the home.
• 4,500 deaths from falling off something.
• Three million injuries or deaths caused by knives each year.

Based on these stats, we should instantly ban swimming pools. Pull mushrooms and cleaning products or other poisonous products off the shelves.  No more climbing trees, kids, and no more cleaning the gutters on that ladder, dads.  Someone died. And knives? I can picture it now:

“I’d love to give you a steak knife to cut your pork chop, Uncle Bob, but an irresponsible man stabbed his wife last year and so knives have been outlawed.  Here, try this spoon.”

Fried food, airplanes, cliff diving, tackle football, rock climbing, hunting, bungee jumping, whitewater rafting, unprotected sex. All of these things are conveniences or indulgences that are based on risks that we live (and die) with every day, and to single out alcohol as the evil substance that is causing society to collapse is hypocritical on a monstrous scale. Just because it’s not your chosen risk doesn’t mean that you are right or that it should be outlawed.

My parents had the right idea:  If you want to make a difference, educate people about the risks involved so they can make smart choices. Don’t preach from a soapbox and tell them why they should want what you want. The only thing we hear when you do that is:  “I am a better person than you who makes better choices than you and since I don’t believe you are smart enough to make your own choices. I would like to make them for you.”

In the end, drinking is a choice, just like every other indulging activity you might partake in like overeating or watching too much television or going to church. Alcohol is only one of a thousand addictions in our society, so stop picking on it and allow us our blissful sedation. Because if you ban it, all we’ll do is turn to something else for pleasure, like climbing tall trees, and then how many deaths will you have on your conscience?

Cheers, until next time,
The Barman