Last October, a review of pub licences was announced in the UK, which could lead to later opening hours for pubs and bars. This comes after a steady decline in the UK’s overall drinking culture, as young people increasingly put down the pints and pick up other activities. I’m looking back on dry January, a challenge where alcohol drinkers try to stay sober for the month, to see whether Edinburgh students fit into this pattern of declining drinking and investigate just how integral drinking is to student lifestyles.
The overwhelming majority of students I spoke to weren’t taking part in dry January this year—eight said they were, whilst 28 said they weren’t. One of the main reasons for continuing to drink was because pubs, clubs and bars are the default backdrop of most social and sport groups at university. A first-year boxer tells me he’d be drinking after his upcoming fight no matter the outcome because: “win or lose, we booze,” catchily demonstrating how, for many students, the pub is a natural chaser for sport and social meets. However, fitness can also be a reason for others to stay sober: “I prefer to go to lectures and work out with a clear head,” another student explains, adding that “when I drink, my mental health gets worse,” showing that mental as well as physical health influences how much students drink.
Another student feels that the age of the student body was a reason to skip dry January, joking: “I feel like most people under the age of thirty haven’t been drinking long enough to have a reason to stop.” This echoes the common belief that alcohol consumption is a given at university, when students with the armour of youth are immune to the harmful effects and stigmas of drinking. When you’re ‘over thirty,’ excessive drinking is problematic; when you’re a university student, not drinking is problematic.
A fourth-year has encountered this stigma herself whilst doing dry January. She jokes that so few people are doing the challenge this year because “we’re getting bullied for it!” after her friends reacted with questions like: “you’re a fourth year, why aren’t you drinking?” — as if the default state for students is to constantly land on the failing side of a breathalyser test. Despite facing judgement, the student says she is enjoying dry January so far. Although she started it to let her bank account recover after Christmas, she also discovered that she can enjoy a night out without needing to be drunk. “Maybe I wouldn’t go out out, though,” she clarifies, referring to more intense activities like clubbing.
This idea that you need to be drunk to enjoy the nightlife scene is a common one at university, and perhaps dry January is a time to take a step back and consider how this mentality affects us. Another student says they drink in social situations because: “I don’t like being around drunk people when I’m not drunk.” At the risk of sounding condescending (and hypocritical), this leads me to say what we all need a reminder of sometimes: if you need to be near-blackout drunk to enjoy something, you probably don’t actually like it.
Maybe dry January, whether you’re partaking or not, can be a chance to evaluate why we drink. By removing alcohol from the situation, we can decide which activities we actually want to spend our time on, and which we’re only doing to have the ‘proper’ student experience, a stereotype which pushes us to constantly go out, whether we want to or not. After all, we might be young, but that doesn’t mean our time, money, and health are any less valuable.
Judging by the reactions of the students I spoke to, it looks like Cowgate won’t be drying up anytime soon. Drinking remains at the heart of university culture for many students, and will continue to pump vodka through the veins of many student societies, cause endless tumbles on Edinburgh’s cobbled streets, and create good friendships and bad decisions alike. But perhaps reflecting on dry January this year can help us interrogate what it is that actually makes up the student experience, and how alcohol and sobriety help shape it—for better or for worse.
Image by Albane Mbow for The Student