In American social thought legislation and education appear rightly as coequal instruments of social policy, each of which disposes of an army of servants, each of which can be manipulated to serve one or another cause. Great as is our faith in the efficacy of legislation, our belief in the virtue of education is even greater. The word has become a charm word. We expect of education such prodigies of beneficence as men expected of the Goddess Fortuna in the third century A. D., and of the Virgin Mary in the thirteenth. The investment we are making in educational establishments beggars by comparison the most extravagant endowment ever showered upon a cult. It would be strange, indeed, if we did not appeal to [p.68] education to end the liquor schism, since we appeal to it for everything else in the register of social improvement. There is a certain sound reason for the faith in education, for if we could get all people to think and behave alike where liquor is concerned, the schism would be ended. And education is indeed the only instrument capable of producing such unanimity.
Yet a fact so obvious that it is usually neglected must be kept in mind: education, like legislation, is a method rather than a solution, a tactic rather than a goal. To cry “education” without specifying the doctrine which is to be taught is as meaningless as to cry for legislation without specifying the character of laws which it is desired to enact.
Is there a system of ideas with which the whole country is willing to have itself indoctrinated? Is there a code of behavior with respect to liquor which has the approval of all? The Drys call for total abstinence, the Wets for temperance. Thus the two systems of ideas which in the plane of [p.69] legislation confront each other as “Prohibition” and “modification” are still found confronting each other on the plane of education, with their stock of catch-words complete, and their arguments substantiated with testimony drawn from a score of sciences and pseudo-sciences.
As between “abstinence” and “temperance” there is no unanimously accepted preference. Neither the scientists nor the clerics – the two groups who hold authority in matters of thought as the legislators hold it in matters of law – are in agreement on this issue. The fact that certain churches are predominantly Dry and others predominantly Wet leads one to suspect that in the liquor controversy we have to do with proselyting by one cult for the observance of its dietary taboo. The Baptists and Methodists entertain toward liquor an attitude not unlike that of the Jew toward pork or the Roman Catholic toward the eating of meat on Friday. The fact that the testimony of scientists is cited both for and against the moderate use of liquor leads us to doubt the [p.70] finality of the appeal to “Science.” For the facts which are pertinent to the dispute do not all fall within the competence of any science, nor are they subject to the control or the discipline of any one branch of learning. These pertinent facts are to be found strung all along from physiology to aesthetics, from sociology to ethics. Between abstinence and temperance there is an issue which no existing tribunal of thought – moral thought or scientific thought – is competent to decide for the American people.
Yet there must be some postulates which are acceptable to all, to Wets and Drys alike. We do not know what they are, but they are worth looking for, for they are the necessary starting point of any policy in education or legislation which will solve the liquor question.
There must be some system of views about the use of liquor, some ethical standard, of which the Wets could say, “So much we admit,” and the Drys would reply, “It is not enough, but so far as it goes, it is true.” [p.71]
If the point of unanimity could be found, it would be wise to concentrate attention upon the devising of a liquor regime which would be most favorable to the realization of this minimum ideal. The resources of pedagogy and advertising could then be called upon to propagate effectively, without stirring up counter-currents to undo their work, a doctrine corresponding to this ideal.
Thus an examination of the potentialities of education as a device for solving the liquor problem leads to the question of a minimum ethic of drinking. There has been no systematic inquiry to determine whether there is an ethical standard so widely acceptable that only the crank and freak would deny that it is valid at least as far as it goes. Lacking a clear statement of the minimum objective, the arguments of Wets and Drys take on that kind of confusion which comes upon social thinking when means and ends are confounded with each other. Prohibition is sometimes presented as a means whereof the abolition of intemperance is the end, and at other times it [p.72] is set forth as an end in itself. The Wets sometimes reproach Prohibition with having caused an increase in the use of liquor, thus implying that they prefer a regime in which a minimum amount of liquor is consumed. The evidence of the confusion is apparent in those phrases which have become part of the small change of conversation: “Prohibition is all right but it doesn’t prohibit,” “I’m against Prohibition, but I don’t want to see the saloon back.” There may be in the mind of the American people the materials for a far wider consensus of opinion on the use of liquor than the present formulation of the issue reveals. Let us then attempt to classify, not attitudes toward Prohibition, but attitudes toward liquor.
The old Teutonic tradition brings to us an attitude toward liquor expressed in the words “drinking bout.” In accordance with this tradition men compete with each other in capacity, and compete also against the liquor itself as an opponent. The man of small capacity, who quickly loses his head, [p.73] or whose stomach is quickly turned by drinking, is regarded as a weakling, and is properly to be despised. The large amount of liquor consumed by a man or a party of men is a proper subject of boasting. Drunkenness is a social duty imposed upon all who join in a drinking bout, but the strong man does not yield too quickly to the liquor. He proves his strength by the quantity and strength of the liquor he can drink before he goes under. So the Gods drank in the old Norse mythology. And have we not those among us who will boast of a row of gin bottles as Thor boasted of the size of his drinking horn?
There is a less boisterous and a merrier tradition which suggests the sunshine of Italy rather than the mist of England, or a shady terrace rather than a smoke-filled hall. In this tradition wine is not the opponent to be vanquished but a means to be used in the art of social intercourse. Drinking has as its object the achievement of a state of mind which will be pleasant and profitable to those who share it. The virtue of the occa[p.74]sion is to be sought in the excellence of the wine and the brightness of the conversation which flows from it. The ceremonial of drinking is developed toward refined forms which retain no trace of the competition of drinkers against each other or of each drinker against the wine. The art of judging wines is highly developed; it becomes a science, with a Greek name – oenology. The art of mixing drinks corresponds, for the users of distilled liquors, to the art of judging wines. Everywhere the aesthetic side of drinking is brought to the fore, and the offering and accepting of liquor is fixed as a part of the ritual of hospitality.
More humble but just as deeply rooted as the ceremonial and artistic attitude toward liquors is that which looks upon them as the normal parts of a standard diet. “Pas de pinard, pas de poilu” – no wine, no soldiers – was a slogan of the French army in the World War. This attitude enters the arena of the present liquor controversy in the phrase “wine with meals.” The habit of using liquor as a part of the regular family meal goes [p.75] along with certain kinds of cooking and certain standard fare. The true French or Italian cuisine breaks down completely when the food has to be served without wine. Nor is this true only of the more elaborate and delicate foods. To people who have certain common food habits, bread and cheese with wine are a dinner, while bread and cheese with water are no better than prisoners’ fare. To deprive these people of liquor does more than merely to take away from them a commodity they enjoy; it disorganizes their whole diet.
Another attitude toward liquor is common to those who have never made liquor a part of their routine of life, nor trained themselves to enjoy it. They have little to say of the use of liquor, but are definitely committed to the disapproval of the abuse thereof. With them, the use of liquor begins to give rise to a moral issue. They would say that it is an issue between temperance and intemperance. Like the men of the drinking bout, they look upon liquor as an opponent, but their [p.76] attitude toward this opponent is more defensive, rather than aggressive. The champion of the drinking bout drinks his beer by the tub-full and boasts of his capacity; the champion of temperance drinks a small glass and boasts of his restraint.
There is also a neutral attitude held by some people who are total abstainers. For themselves, they say, they do not enjoy liquor, or their doctors forbid them to drink it, or they have never had an opportunity to acquire a taste for it. They do not regard the use of liquor, especially in moderation, as a wrongful act, nor do they look upon the liquor question as a moral issue. These persons are the tolerant abstainers from drink.
Finally, there is the attitude of those to whom liquor is a cult taboo. With religious earnestness they deplore the evil that is latent in the smallest of glasses of the mildest of intoxicants. So intense is their hatred of drink that they are angered by the thought that anyone should use [p.77] any liquor whatsoever. They regard liquor as an enemy, an opponent with whom they must contend; but the only victory over liquor, to their minds, is total abstinence. “Have courage, my boy, to say No,” runs their song. In their view the strong man is not the man who drinks most liquor or the one who controls himself in the drinking of liquor, but rather the man who refuses to drink at all.
We have distinguished six degrees of opinion which separate the ultra-Wet from the ultra-Dry. They are the attitudes of those who use liquor for (1) a drinking bout, (2) aesthetic enjoyment and ceremonial, (3) habitual diet, and (4) exercise in moral restraint, as well as those who (5) abstain with tolerance, and (6) abstain with moral fervor.
Of these six attitudes, four involve the use of liquor, while two call for abstention. Two of them accept liquor as a part of normal life, without giving it any special position as an antagonist against which man tries his strength; three of [p.78] them regard liquor as a competitor against which man strives in combat. Drunkenness in the drinking bout is a sign of courage; in connection with the ceremonial or aesthetic use of liquor it is a breach of good form or good art; in the eyes of the man to whom liquor is simply a part of the regular meal, it is a reprehensible wastefulness; to the temperance advocate it is a sign of weakness, and to the moralistic total abstainer it is the deadliest of the deadly sins.
Certainly this list of six attitudes does not exhaust the number of possible attitudes toward liquor, nor even the number of attitudes actually held among the American people. But the list is long enough to indicate the difficulty that would confront anyone who would seek to draw up an educational program which would bring the country to unanimity on the liquor question. Which of these attitudes should be selected as the basis of teaching if education is to solve the liquor question? The antithesis of temperance versus abstinence remains. [p.79]
However, there is no reason for giving up the search for an ethic of drinking which would obtain maximum approval. (Note that we speak here of an attitude toward liquor, not a political policy or regime.) We can only make guesses in trying to define this standard, but even guesses on this question are worth making. As a guess, which is subject to correction as soon as research shall have uncovered more facts in this connection, it is suggested that these four following propositions define opinions which most of the drinkers would agree to, and which most of the abstainers admit to be true, even though insufficient:
That a temperate use of liquor is better than an intemperate use.
That education and training should discourage the intemperate use of liquor.
That a disproportionate part of a man’s income should not be spent for liquor.
That when liquor is drunk under conditions or in quantities that bring injury to some person other than the drinker, the injured person has just cause of complaint. [p.80]
Probably a few of the roisterers of the drinking bout would deny these propositions, saying that they believed in drunkenness, and a few of the most fanatical of the total abstainers would denounce them because they seem to offer approval of moderate drinking, even though the approval is expressed only in relative terms. But there is no doubt that these general propositions concerning liquor come far nearer to having the unanimous approval of the country than does any specific measure of liquor legislation or policy before the American people.
If the country could in some way identify and define that attitude toward liquor upon which there is the nearest thing to unanimity, it would be in the possession of the key to the solution of the liquor problem. And if a serious attempt were then made, in the light of contemporary knowledge of educational and advertising technique, and of law and administration, to devise a regime which would best realize the ideal implied in this attitude, there would be a good chance of finding [p.81] a remedy which would quiet the agitation of the liquor question. The starting point in devising a liquor regime should be something upon which the country is agreed, and not a pair of opposed prejudices with a hundred years of controversy behind them, or a program which the exigencies of political warfare have transformed from a mere means-to-an-end into an end-in-itself. [p.82]