July 2025, 8 Minutes

Sobering Up

On Alcohol and Art

I’ve not touched the booze in six years. And if things got to plan, I won’t touch it again before the end. It’s been a ride. A mostly good one. Probably more mediocre than I envisioned, though not much forethought went into the decision.

This article isn’t about me or my experiences with alcohol and without it. I don’t care to write about such stuff as I honestly find it rather boring. Instead, I wanted to write about a growing trend that I have noticed hovering around my third eye’s peripheral vision - that of the globally declining rates of alcohol consumption.

The Data

Let’s start on the homefront.

In Ireland alcohol is sometimes referred to as “The Creature”, especially among older generations. I find this to be a highly appropriate sobriquet. It implies darkness, unpredictability, even violence, and the implication is earned. My homeland has quite the roller-coaster relationship with the stuff; it slinks through funerals and weddings alike, whispering promises it rarely keeps. The Creature charms, seduces, then turns - leaving regret (or “The Fear”) in its ghastly aftermath.

Yet, despite this cultural imperative, in recent decades, Ireland has experienced a significant decline in alcohol consumption. According to data compiled by Drinks Ireland and the Central Statistics Office, per-adult alcohol consumption in Ireland fell from approximately 14.3 litres in 2001 to 9.9 litres in 2023—a 31% reduction from its peak. This downward trajectory continued into 2024, when consumption fell a further 4.5% to 9.49 litres per person, representing an overall 34.3% decline over the 23-year period.

This national trend is particularly evident among younger demographics. A longitudinal study by the Health Research Board found that the proportion of teetotallers among 15–24 year-olds increased from 17% in 2006–2007 to 28% by 2019–2021, highlighting a substantial shift in youth attitudes toward alcohol. The data further reveals that only 31% of 15-year-olds in 2018 had ever tried alcohol, a dramatic drop from 83% in 1998. These statistics suggest that younger generations are not only drinking less, but also delaying their first encounters with alcohol – or just straight up abstaining.

Recent data from across the developed world reveals a consistent pattern: younger generations are drinking significantly less than their older counterparts. A 2019 British study found that 26% of 16–25 year-olds identified as teetotal, compared to just 15% of those aged 55–74. In the United States, a 2020 Gallup poll showed a similar trend, with teetotalism among college-aged individuals rising from 20% to 28% over the previous decade. In the Southern Hemisphere, 44% of Gen Z Australians reported intentionally limiting their drinking, while young New Zealanders have halved their alcohol consumption since 2001, according to BBC and WorldCrunch. France has seen a comparable cultural shift: the percentage of 17-year-olds who have never drunk alcohol increased from just 4.4% in 2002 to 19.4% in 2022. Meanwhile, Reddit-sourced (take it for what it is) UK data from August 2024 indicated that 30% of under-25s had reduced their alcohol intake over the previous year, with 13% abstaining entirely, and 74% of respondents citing health concerns as the primary motivation.

As some of the above data indicates, the tendency should not automatically be seen as a recent thing; it’s not necessarily, as is sometimes assumed, a post-covid phenomenon.

(Interestingly, drinking spiked during Covid, especially at home: The Irish Examiner and Drink Aware found that, in Ireland, despite a roughly 6% decline in overall per capita consumption in 2020, a surge in solitary and home-based drinking offset much of the reduction. One-third of Irish adults reported drinking alone weekly during lockdown, and 22% maintained increased drinking habits even five years later. At the same time, 32% reported drinking less by 2025, up from just 17% in 2020. Among 18–24-year-olds, weekly drinking rose sharply—from 38% in 2020 to 51% in 2021—with binge drinking rates doubling. Yet, many expressed a desire to cut back, with 37% reporting positive changes to their drinking habits.)

According to the World Health Organization’s (WHO) Global Information System on Alcohol and Health, worldwide alcohol consumption reached 5.5 litres of pure alcohol per person aged 15+ in 2019, down from 5.7 litres in 2010. Taken across the spread, .2 litres is significant, and exceeds the statistical threshold for what could be considered anomalous.

In May of this year, the Financial Times reported that volume was down, but profits were up (indicating overall cost increases, a possible factor in the trend). The report concluded that overall youth consumption was down, and continued to trend downwards, and that the industry was effectively being propped up by Baby Boomers.

But Why?

Why is this happening? Personally, it seems like an odd time for everyone to stop taking the edge off. The world is, as Heraclitus famously said, in flux, and without indulging in present bias or now-narcissism, it seems pretty damn fluxy at the moment. There is certainly enough data to support this assertion, and I have previously written about the topic, using data so I venture to say it’s not just an impression or “vibe” I am relaying on here. For instance, in 2022, PubMed found a 6% increase in “daily distress” among an astonishingly large global sample of 1.5 million participants. In addition, the US suicide rate increased a whopping 30% from 2000 to 2020. We don’t appear to live in a time of reduced stress, which would run counter to a common sense take on drinking.

It's hard to pin down one animating reason. A range of social, economic, and psychological factors appear to be driving the decline in alcohol consumption, particularly among younger generations. Health and wellness awareness has played a central role, with Gen Z and younger adults increasingly conscious of alcohol’s negative impact on mental health, sleep quality, weight gain, and long-term disease risk. This has given rise to the popular “sober-curious” movement - marked by campaigns like Dry January and Sober October - and a surge in demand for non-alcoholic alternatives. These cultural shifts are being put into turbo drive by social media, which is the main source for culture building and social proof engaged in by younger generations.

The increasing availability of non-alcoholic options - such as zero-proof beers, botanical spirits, kombuchas, and mocktails - has made it easier for individuals to opt out without social penalty. It was also reported this year by industry magazine Food and Wine that non-alcoholic beverages (NA’s) had exploded onto the market; global non‑alcoholic beer grew +9% in volume in 2024; U.S. NA beer volume rose 175% since 2019. Estimated total NA‑beer market is now $13.7 bn, and is headed to $23 bn by the close of 2025

Economic pressures are also a major influence: with rising living costs and widespread financial anxiety, alcohol is often seen as a luxury rather than a staple. Eurostat reports that alcohol prices have soared by approximately 95% since 2000, creating further barriers to consumption. This shift has nudged many toward cheaper, alcohol-free alternative, or has driven people out of the nightlife economy altogether.

Finally, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted traditional drinking venues and habits, encouraging quieter, more home-based lifestyles that many have continued post-lockdown. Buying and habit-engagement trends suggest that the pandemic not only shifted where people drank, but also prompted a deeper revaluation of alcohol’s role in everyday life

Together, these factors signal a broader cultural reappraisal of alcohol’s role in daily life and even redefine what “fun” means to society.

Intoxicated Minds

“…a drinker with a writing problem” - Brendan Behan

What of art? Are we to expect a dry spell for the creative minds to coincide with the general trend of dryness I society?

To state the obvious, some great writers were alcoholics (artists in general, but for now let’s just stick to o those who picked up the pen): Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas, Ernest Hemingway all battered the bottle with regularity. Hunter S. Thomason’s daily routine has recently become famous on the internet, though my reading of the man and his carefully curated dgaf image, to me implies the extremity of it may be just another bit of personal marketing. Sinclair Lewis found the Nobel prize for literature at the bottom of an amber bottle. Some went harder, pushing past the limitations of what alcohol could do for the creative mind. Proust lived the last twenty years of his truncated life in an opium mist. William S. Burroughs bore the standard for the “self-aware” junkie, but his self-awareness didn’t stop him from shooting and killing his loving wife in a drunken stunt. Aldous Huxley - perhaps the most famous of the ridiculously productive Huxley family – wrote books on his mescalin and LSD trips, intimately linking the use and the output. Huxley was so dedicated to his drug craft that he asked to be injected with acid on his deathbed, a request that was respected.

Some made it out the other side, others didn’t. Raymond Carver managed to carve (really?) a decent career out for himself post-sobriety, calling this latter stage “gravy”. Perhaps most famously, Stephen King has not touched anything since the 80s (post car accident pain management aside). I would argue that he has written both his best and worst stuff since then, so interpret that however you choose.

If you ever desire or require an insight into the mind of a writer on the drink, I recommend picking up a copy of Patricia Highsmith’s diaries. You’ve got plenty to choose from: there are a few different versions, covering different years, as she wrote close to ten thousand pages of diary entries, Highsmith had an as-yet unmatched mind for pacing and for that most difficult of literary talents: making seemingly unlikable, or even evil characters, heroic. She could make the reader route for the baddy.

She herself had some misanthropic instincts, and struggled to relate to her fellow person, writer or otherwise. This inability to interact, to put up with others, led her to start drinking pretty early in the morning, and to continue it through most days. She would turn up at parties or dinners with a bottle of her own stuff in her handbag, unwilling to trust the host to provide the required quality or quantity (why leave to chance that which can be so easily assured, I guess). As her life progressed, she developed that most serious of drinking habits – preferring her own company when indulging in the habit, alone, quiet, unbothered by the world.

But I don’t think her mind, nor the minds of the others I’ve spoken of, would have been any less the stores and producers of great art had they never even heard of alcohol. I believe it to be incidental, a neither necessary nor sufficient condition for literary excellence.

I think we’re gonna be Ok as artists. Maybe I’m biased, but I’ve written most of my stuff as sober as a newborn’s first breath. I do not believe these above-mentioned men and women did not need substances to produce what they produced; the liquor was just a tonic for the inner demons so many of the greats spend their lives tortured by. But, as noted by Christiopher Hitchens - himself a bit of a boozehound, in the heady Cold War days – it’s ok for a writer to drink. But if you need alcohol to write, you’re not writer, you’re just a loser.

Afterword

I know I promised not to make this about me, and I assure you I’m not, but there is one thing I wanted to say related to my own experiences.

I can’t recommend full sobriety. I’m not an evangelical in this or any other regard; the human experience is too varied and inherently dynamic for one-size-fits-all approaches that come with such spiritual prescriptions, and that are always done for the benefit of the giver, not the receiver. Of course, when it comes to alcohol, it’s always good to cut back and be in control, but there are downsides too, mostly social. If the danger isn’t clear and present, I wouldn’t worry too much about it - just listen to your doctor, your loved ones, and your body.

Or, if you must, listen to the crowd – I suspect on this one they may be right.

Photo by: Clam Lo