By Charles C. W. Cooke
Friday, March 22, 2013
Alcohol occupies a peculiar position in the culture of
the United States. Like so much else besides, it is subject to the ongoing
brawl between puritanism and libertarianism, two philosophies that have long
jockeyed for dominance here. Americans have made many contributions to the bar
— including the perfection and popularization of the cocktail. But puritanism
has survived, enjoying a rich history of its own. Benjamin Rush’s inquiries
into alcoholism spawned a variety of anti-alcohol movements at the outset of
the new republic; in the 1850s, “temperance” overlapped uncomfortably with the
Know Nothing movement’s distaste for secular principles; and in the 1920s the
18th Amendment was passed, in part on the back of widespread mistrust of
immigrants and the drinks they brought with them. The role of alcohol in
society, remember, is the only such question ever to have been placed within
the U.S. Constitution. Nowadays, the folly of Prohibition is widely known. But
in practice it still obtains for some, as a deviant exception to the rule of
adulthood.
In the United States, we treat 18-year-olds as full
citizens. At this age, a man may vote and he may serve as a juror — or he may
search for excuses as to why he should do neither. He may smoke cigarettes and
fly an airplane. He may get married, or he may eschew that road in favor of
pornography and promiscuity. He may enter into contracts, max out his credit cards,
and run a business into the ground. He may join the military, putting his life
in danger. In some jurisdictions, he may run for public office. Less welcome
but no less real are the opportunities to be executed by the state for capital
crimes and to sign up for the Selective Service. But what he may not do — in
any of the 50 states — is walk to a bar and buy an alcoholic drink. This is
nonsense — an aberration from the usual rules. What sense does it make to
deprive an adult of just one feature of adulthood, and why are the arguments in
favor of doing so taken seriously?
Lobbying the federal government in the 1980s, Mothers
Against Drunk Driving claimed that there was a connection between young-adult
drinkers and the worrying number of deaths caused by drunk driving. Their
evidence is by no means indisputable. Traffic fatalities in the 1980s decreased
considerably less after the drinking age was raised than they did during the
same period in Europe, where drinking is common at 18 and below; and, as the research
of Harvard’s Jeffrey Miron shows, the “drinking age does not produce its main
claimed benefit.” But, arguendo, let’s presume that MADD was correct. A bigger
question would still remain: If practicality wins out in that arena, why is it
alone? Why is William Pitt’s “Necessity” justifiable as the “plea for every
infringement” in this domain but not in others?
Should we perhaps raise the marriage age or age of
consent to 21? And if not, why not? After all, young people often think they
are in love when they are not, and young lust can lead to inordinately bad
decisions. (Just ask Romeo and Juliet.) Should we make home ownership illegal
until one has 20 years and 12 months under one’s belt? Again: If not, why not?
Perhaps our young people need a little time to rehearse in the marketplace
before they make the biggest financial decisions of their lives? In fact, given
that purchasing a house is top of almost all common stressors, one might
classify being forced to navigate the mortgage market while sober as cruel and
unusual punishment.
The answer to these questions is that there already
exists a cutoff point beyond which your personal choices are deemed to be
nobody else’s business. The rapper and producer Dr. Dre had, he said, “a house,
a Mercedes, a Corvette and a million dollars in the bank before [he] could buy
alcohol legally.” This inconsistency is grotesque. Are we to indulge an
arrangement by which a father might say, “I’m really proud of you for joining
the military, son. But don’t you dare have a drink”? In Personal Reminiscences,
Robert E. Lee quotes Stonewall Jackson as having claimed to be “more afraid of
alcohol than of all the bullets of the enemy.” That was certainly Jackson’s
prerogative; alcohol, like so many things, can be terribly destructive. But
recognition of this is neither basis for wise law nor sufficient reason to
deprive young adults of their choices. Guns are destructive, too. Smoking is
destructive. Paint thinner is destructive — I would buy a round for the first
politician who defended the notion that the state should insist on age limits
for the patrons of Home Depot.
The 26th Amendment lowered the minimum voting age from 21
to 18 and, in doing so, corrected the untenable incongruity of 18-year olds’
being drafted into the military and sent to fight in the jungles of Vietnam but
asked to wait three years before they might cast a ballot. In the wake of the
change, with 18 set as the new yardstick, a majority of states saw fit to lower
their drinking ages. Between 1970 and 1976, 30 did so. This logical trend was
cut short by federal overreach. And what an overreach! Under the provisions of the
Federal Underage Drinking Act, any state that holds out and allows its resident
adults to enjoy a drink before they reach the age of 21 will be punished with a
10 percent decrease in its annual federal highway funds. This is no less than
legalized bribery, one of many means by which the federal government
circumvents the restrictions imposed on it by the Constitution and buys off the
states. That since 1988 not a single state has told the feds to bugger off and
mind their own business is a testament to the craven, upside-down nature of
modern American federalism. (Also to the tyranny of self-interested majorities:
Whatever demographic changes are visited on the United States in the years to
come, we will likely not see an electorate that cares that much that people 18
to 20 years of age are deprived of the opportunity to go drinking.)
The law is an ass, and it is faithfully treated as such.
Winston Churchill, who, having “taken more out of alcohol than alcohol [took]
out of [him],” would no doubt have opposed the status quo on libationary
grounds. But Churchill also wisely counseled against contriving a legal
framework that undermines respect for the law. “If you have ten thousand
regulations,” he enjoined, “you destroy all respect for the law.” Quite so.
With the exception of the equally asinine laws against marijuana, it is
difficult to think of another law that has become such an open joke among those
at whom it is aimed. It’s not just the drinking bit: We introduce our citizens
to the responsibilities of adulthood by encouraging them to get their hands on
— and casually and routinely use — false identification documents. This in turn
causes the purveyors of fake documents to proliferate and pushes them into the
mainstream.
Drinking Reform has few public champions, which is a
shame, because the issue presents those who habitually exalt limited
government, individual liberty, and the rule of law with a golden opportunity
to prove them congruous. Truth be told, it should be a libertarian’s dream
issue. Why haven’t prominent figures picked it up? Benjamin Franklin said that
beer was “proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy”; he also warned
that the United States would remain a republic “if you can keep it.”
Federalism’s advocates are missing an opportunity to demonstrate what happens
to republican principles when the federal government gets too powerful. What
better way than a call for the repeal of the Federal Underage Drinking Act to
introduce to the young people of America both of Franklin’s principles at the
same time?
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