Salient: An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 11, No. 11, September 22nd, 1948
Alcohol and the Licensing Laws
Alcohol and the Licensing Laws
Although I am doubtless repeating what many other people have said and written I should, nevertheless, like to make my small contribution towards the revision of the various laws and restrictions that govern the sale of alcoholic liquor in this country. I am fortunate in that I have travelled in Belgium, lived in England, and have now been residing In New Zealand for some time. I have based my argument on the facts that I observed whilst I was in each of those countries.
To start with Belgium: in that country there are no licensing laws as we know them, the hotels and inns being open for the sale of alcohoic liquor as long as, in the case of the does not mean that the people do not inns, the proprietor stays up, and, in the case of hotels, as long as there are guests who still wish to drink, and this is usually very late at night, if not for ever, as there are numbers of tourists arriving at ail times. The only time, then when an hotel is closed for any length of time is when the manager orders repairs of an obscure nature, but even then there is the inn down the road. Now in spite of this terrible laxity regarding drink there appeared to me to be very, very few drunkards—and I did not confine myself to the more respectable parts of the towns. This drink, as there were always small groups or pairs of people having a chat over their glass of beer (which I did not think particularly good) or wine or spirits, and these facts emphasize the Belgians', and to my mind the only possible, outlook towards drinking—that it is an extremely pleasant social function.
Now in England the same oulook is prevalent in a good sized percentage of the population, but there are those who enter an hotel or pub only to consume as much liquor as possible before the bartender or innkeeper utters the fatal phrase "Time, Gentlemen. Please." which marks the end of that session, and, in all probability, also the end of that week's wages, unless the person is fortunate enough to have a weak head.
And now New Zealand, the land of plenty—of restrictions—especially with regard to the sale and consumption of alcoholic liquor. Here, where the licensing laws are particularly stringent, the sole purpose of most people, and they are nearly all men as it is indecent for women to enter a bar, who flock to the bar to see who can swallow the most in the shortest time. The result—many drunkards.
The conclusion to be drawn from this seems to me to be that the more attempts are made to put down the evils of drinking by prohibition, the higher they raise their ugly head, which is just what to expect, human nature being what it is. Thus, paradoxical though it is, if the societies desiring the abolition of the unpleasantness of drunkenness wish to accomplish their aim they should fight for the abolition of the licensing laws, not fur the abolition of liquor. Only thus will the unpleasantness of drink be banished and the pleasure enhanced.
I should just like to quote a passage from "The Laws of Heredity"—
"From inquiry from old residents in the country (Italy) I learn that, however abundant the vintage, the condatini preserve always their temperate habits, drinking their fill, but never becoming drunken ... In those days. I am told, wine was given to horses, and whole barrels would be poured out in the road to make way for the new vintage ... it is given to infants, children drink it regularly, and babies are bathed in it, but drunkenness in the English sense does not exist."
Swen.