When about 100 university chancellors and presidents formed and signed the Amethyst Initiative last week, the reaction was predictable.
The group, calling for a discussion of the legal drinking age and its effects on drinking culture in America, was instantly met with fierce support and ardent rejection. Specifically, according to the project’s Web site, the Amethyst Initiative “supports informed and unimpeded debate on the 21-year-old drinking age.”
Of course, the drinking age dilemma is old news. Like discussions of typical, polarizing topics (think abortion, affirmative action, immigration law), the most cliched of arguments are trumped out over and over again.
But it is important to note that it is not a burning desire to get drunk that so enrages proponents of lowering the drinking age. A drinking age lower than an enlistment age signals both a grave distrust in our youth and a profound misplacement of our priorities.
So this time, I’d like to frame the question differently. Instead of asking why I can’t drink if I can fight and vote, I ask why, if I am not old enough ““ not trustworthy and mature enough ““ to drink in this country, am I ready to die defending it?
Standard drinking-age rhetoric falls roughly as follows:
Those who favor the current laws cite the Mothers Against Drunk Driving-driven lobbying push in the early 1980s that lead to a nationwide 21-year-old drinking age (made possible by tying the law to federal funding states needed). MADD maintains that the 1984 Minimum Legal Drinking Age Act has saved 25,000 lives.
Others claim that obviously people under 21 are foolish, irresponsible and not to be trusted with liquids stronger than root beer.
Opposite these folks sit these 100 university heads and thirsty high school seniors and college students everywhere. To them, the current drinking age is somewhere between arbitrary and asinine. They decry the fact that 18-year-olds can smoke cigarettes (even though second hand smoke can ultimately be as deadly as drunk driving), vote and enlist ““ but not drink. The most popular argument on this side is thus that of inconsistency: If we, as a nation, trust 18-year-olds with the duties of voting and military service, why don’t we trust them to sit at a bar?
In other words, if I, at 19 years old, can not only help decide who runs this country, but also die for it, then why can’t I engage in responsible imbibing?
The real question, however, is the opposite: If I’m not old enough to drink, why am I old enough to die for this country?
The minimum age for military enlistment in America is 17 with parental consent. The military actively seeks out young recruits using some time-tested marketing tactics: video games, Hummers, hip-hop and flashy commercials. In other words, America’s youth is targeted by the military through the same time-tested marketing tactics akin to the alcohol industry ““ both of which have the potential to ultimately end in death.
And yet, many of us college students undoubtedly shudder when imagining our 17-year-old selves: fresh faced adolescents a year into driving on roads, six months into being able to drive with another young passenger. At 17 most of us could barely parallel park, and to us “freedom” meant a night without curfew.
A CNN.com article related to the 1984 Minimum Legal Drinking Age cited a military wife who finds the comparison between joining the army and drinking baseless, because young soldiers drink too. According to the article, the woman claimed “the younger servicemen who come in to work with hangovers not only endanger themselves but everyone they work with.” She then argues that the drinking age (not the enlistment age) should be raised to “at least” 25.
This is truly amazing.
Here we have a group of young servicemen charged with defending freedom and the lives of their fellow soldiers and countrymen deemed irresponsible, and our response is not to keep them from operating weapons and the machinery of war but to prevent cheap-vodka-induced headaches?
The problem with the drinking age is not the 21-year-old minimum in and of itself but the lack of consistency it represents. Clearly, if the argument for a higher drinking age than the rest of the world is based on levels of maturity and responsibility, we must also hold these values relevant for other “minimum ages.”
Instead, we do exactly what these college heads are being accused of by MADD. The group says these university presidents “shirk responsibility to protect students” that lack decision-making capabilities by signing such a petition. But what are we doing by enlisting this same group of individuals to fight and die for the rest of us?
We are sacrificing scruples for reality.
The truth is that American enlistment is tragically low and troop levels were ““ and are ““ stretched thin across the globe as America entered into military commitments. We need young men and women to serve, so we don’t mind if they’re “immature.”
It has also been noted that not only under-21-year-olds kill people by driving under the influence. Yet no one considers banning recently divorced or laid off adults from drinking. Why not take the license away from anyone who could be depressed? After all, there are many incidence factors more closely aligned with drinking and alcoholism than youth.
Even more ironic is that the drinking age practically does not matter at colleges across America. Those who wish to drink underage do so, either through shoulder tapping outside of Ralph’s or merely walking into a party on any given night. On the other hand, a higher enlistment age would have to be enforced by the military. Again, we fail ourselves by making laws that are easily broken and neglecting common sense where it is most critical and enforceable.
In short, America, if you don’t think I’m old enough to be handed a six-pack, then don’t hand me one.
Just don’t turn around, hand me a shotgun and tell me I’m old enough to defend your freedom.
Tired of supposedly moralistic laws and hypocrisy? Raise your glass and e-mail Makarechi at kmakarechi@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.