Sober October has arrived, presenting a chance to reduce or eliminate alcohol consumption. But what occurs after this month for individuals reassessing their ongoing connection with alcohol?
In the vibrant decades of the 1990s and 2000s, it was widely believed that moderate drinking, particularly of red wine, was beneficial to health. “It was a popular narrative,” notes Anya Topiwala, a psychiatric researcher at the University of Oxford.
That view has shifted significantly. Research now associates even moderate drinking with various health risks, especially cancer. Major health institutions, including the World Health Organization, now assert that no level of alcohol is considered safe. Current dietary guidelines in the U.S. recommend a maximum of two drinks a day for men and one for women.
These guidelines are set for revision this fall, leaving U.S. health officials to decide whether to maintain existing recommendations, follow the WHO’s guidance, or take a different approach.
This issue is complex. Many researchers who recognize the health risks of alcohol, such as the potential to shorten lifespans, don’t necessarily advocate for complete abstinence.
A study by Topiwala published in BMJ Evidence-Based Medicine revealed that even light drinking raises the risk of dementia, with risks increasing relative to alcohol intake. Topiwala emphasizes the importance of awareness regarding the connection between drinking and dementia. “I’m not advising against drinking; I just want people to make informed decisions,” she states.
Looking back through history might offer insights. Humans have consumed alcohol for thousands of years. While its role may not be as pivotal to human advancement as fire or agriculture, it likely played a role in fostering cooperation, creativity, and social bonds, according to historical and anthropological research.
However, drinking practices from ancient times differ greatly from today’s, suggests philosopher and psychologist Edward Slingerland of the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. He proposes that modern drinkers might benefit from the practices of our ancestors.
Beverages, creativity, and collaboration
Academics have long pondered the reasons behind human drinking habits. One prevailing theory posits that alcohol’s ethanol disrupts a reward system in our brains designed to promote behaviors linked to motivation and learning. Given alcohol’s associated social and health issues, this has been perceived as an unfortunate evolutionary glitch, argues Slingerland, author of Drunk: How we sipped, danced and stumbled our way to civilization.
Slingerland, whose views often diverge from mainstream thought, dismisses this theory. He argues that some evolutionary “errors,” like the enjoyment of masturbation for pleasure, persist when they pose little survival risk. Humanity has managed both sexual reproduction and pleasure-seeking throughout history.
In contrast, significant evolutionary mistakes tend to fade away. Our affinity for alcohol, he believes, should have diminished if it were truly an error.
Researchers have suggested that the alcohol flushing response, a genetic adaptation that appeared roughly 9,000 years ago in southern China with rice cultivation, may indicate that this taste is not a flaw. This response, which affects over one-third of East Asians, leads to symptoms like facial flushing and nausea, potentially limiting excessive alcohol consumption during fermentation of rice into wine.
<p“If our preference for alcohol was indeed an evolutionary failure, then we should see that mutation everywhere,” Slingerland contends.
He posits that the drawbacks of drinking, such as addiction, violence, and health issues, may have been outweighed by its advantages. For instance, the human brain’s prefrontal cortex, which matures in the mid-20s, equips people with the self-control needed for adult responsibilities. However, research also indicates that this self-control can inhibit creativity. By reducing prefrontal activity, alcohol might encourage artistic expression, he suggests.
Beyond enhancing creativity, Slingerland theorizes that drinking and the diminishment of cognitive control may have facilitated social bonds among early humans. Unlike other primates, who generally only cooperate with kin, humans find ways to establish trust with strangers. “One way to forge these connections is through alcohol,” he says. Today, such cooperation may manifest as business partnerships or casual social engagements, where sharing drinks signifies a level of trust.
Patterns of ancient drinking
While intriguing, Slingerland’s “drunk hypothesis” remains difficult to verify. Researchers are working to explore it. For instance, one team analyzed data from 186 preindustrial societies to examine whether alcohol consumption correlated with societal complexity, which they defined on a scale from 1 (no structured leadership) to 5 (hierarchical governance).
Of the societies studied, about half engaged in drinking, and the findings indicated a correlation with a minimal increase of approximately a third of a point in societal complexity measurements.
<p“There is a link between the presence of alcohol and greater political complexity, though the impact is relatively minor,” reports evolutionary anthropologist Václav HrnÄŤĂĹ™ from the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, Germany. His research team believes alcohol is just one component that fostered societal evolution, alongside other social activities like music, dance, rituals, and shared beliefs.
However, deciphering specific trends in ancient societies is complicated due to incomplete historical data. Although available accounts show a broad variability in drinking cultures, certain notable cross-cultural trends have emerged.
For instance, the experience of drinking hasn’t always been idyllic. HrnÄŤĂĹ™ and his colleagues found that among the Brazilian Kaingang people, gatherings centered around alcohol often experienced conflict alongside camaraderie. In a similar vein, Colombian Cubeo feasts, aimed at strengthening sibling bonds, frequently devolved into disputes.
Previously, however, stringent social norms surrounding alcohol consumption helped mitigate its detrimental effects, HrnÄŤĂĹ™ explains. In ancient Sumer, for example, beer was offered to both deities for abundance and to laborers as remuneration. Beer was also served at feasts to cultivate social ties and reinforce societal hierarchies.
The Greeks, known for their revelry, serve as one of the most studied ancient cultures. These party connoisseurs hosted lavish gatherings called symposia, complete with acrobats, musicians, poetry, and humor. The event’s leader, or symposiarch, managed the fun, ensuring that the wine was diluted with water as the festivities intensified.
Drinking in isolation
However, drinking behaviors have transformed significantly over the past few centuries. In modern times, if symposiarchs were still in practice, they’d likely need an abundance of water. Beverages today are generally more potent. Historically, individuals consumed naturally fermented beers and wines with alcohol levels of around 2 to 6 percent, while contemporary beverages often contain two to three times that concentration.
Moreover, hard liquors—such as rum, gin, and vodka—have become increasingly prevalent, boasting alcohol by volume ranging from 35 to 95 percent. This shift from low- to high-alcohol content parallels the transition from consuming coca leaves to snorting cocaine, Slingerland notes, as the high concentration can overwhelm our body’s ability to process it effectively.
Furthermore, the context of drinking is evolving. What was once a social ritual has transitioned into increasingly solitary behavior. Younger generations in the U.S. are drinking less than in prior eras, yet many experts hesitate to consider this a public health improvement. This caution is partly due to a recent uptick in the proportion of youth and young adults drinking alone: the rate had been declining since the 1970s but has started to climb again in recent decades, as reported in a comprehensive study of nearly 13,000 participants published in Alcohol Clinical & Experimental Research.
For example, when researchers focused on 19- and 20-year-olds in the U.S., they noted that in 1977, approximately 40 percent of men and nearly 20 percent of women drank alone, compared to just 20 percent of men and 15 percent of women by 2010. However, that figure rose again by 2022, with nearly 25 percent of men and 20 percent of women reporting solitary drinking. This increase aligns with a rise in mental health challenges among adolescents and young adults, linked by some professionals to the advent of smartphones and social media.
Young adults who drink in isolation often do so to address unfavorable emotions and are significantly more likely than social drinkers to face alcohol-related issues by age 35, as shown in a September 2022 study published in Drug and Alcohol Dependence.
Drinking motivation: relief vs. reward
Unlike historical consumption, modern drinking habits have detached from traditional social settings, HrnÄŤĂĹ™ comments. Nowadays, individuals have unrestricted access to alcohol without any hierarchical restrictions and can choose to drink any type or amount alone or with others.
This newfound independence has led many to explore sobriety options. Movements such as Dry January and Sober October have gained traction over the past decade, prompting participants to abstain from alcohol for improved health. Meanwhile, the “sober curious” initiative, inspired by Ruby Warrington’s 2018 book Sober Curious, emphasizes mindful drinking rather than total abstinence.
To reflect on their drinking habits, Keith Humphreys, a psychiatrist and addiction researcher at Stanford University, suggests considering the pandemic’s impact.
Between January 2020 and December 2023, global consumption declined, as reported in a review of 100 studies in Human Psychopharmacology: Clinical & Experimental. Yet this trend was not universal; fewer than 25 percent of individuals accounted for the decrease, with half maintaining prior consumption levels, while slightly over a quarter increased their drinking. Notably, those who drank more often included individuals experiencing mental health declines and those with children at home.
Humphreys, who was not affiliated with the study, interprets these varying drinking patterns as indicative of two drinker types: relief drinkers, like overwhelmed parents, versus reward drinkers. The latter, who consume alcohol for celebratory reasons—such as gatherings with friends—generally have a lower risk of developing drinking problems compared to those who seek alcohol for stress relief, he explains.
Reflecting on his own experiences, Humphreys notes that at the pandemic’s outset, he possessed six bottles of wine, but half a year later, five remained unopened. “I drink for enjoyment and companionship,” he states. “Without the social aspects taken away during the pandemic, I went six months with minimal alcohol intake.”
In light of growing evidence linking alcohol to adverse health effects, framing the decision to drink through the lens of relief versus reward may help individuals recalibrate their relationship with alcohol well beyond the end of Sober October. Additionally, appointing a symposiarch or companion to oversee social drinking can be a beneficial strategy.
