Because alcoholism is difficult to define precisely, I prefer the term problem drinking. After all, a problem drinker is simply someone whose drinking causes problems.

Consider those who drive while under the influence. Most of us agree their drinking creates serious problems. We can safely call them problem drinkers. Similarly, those who abuse spouses or children while intoxicated are also problem drinkers.

My first encounter with someone struggling with alcohol was at age six, and the memory remains vivid even now at seventy-eight. Throughout the decades, I’ve witnessed countless instances of people engaging in behaviors characteristic of problem drinking. These experiences have progressively deepened my perspective on alcohol and its impact.

The other day, I heard something I couldn’t verify either way. Still, I found no cause to question it. According to a TV program, during the Vietnam War era, drunk drivers claimed five times more lives than combat did.

I was caught off guard by what I heard. My initial instinct was to believe it. The challenge is that I have no clear path to verify it. If any of you have access to the relevant data, I’d welcome your assistance in tracking down the numbers.

Regardless, I must assume the statement is substantially accurate. If it isn’t, we need clarification. Spreading misinformation isn’t acceptable under any circumstances. Should it prove true, I’d like to incorporate it into my collection of evidence against problem drinking.

That said, I prefer to ground my argument largely in personal observation, particularly when countering the hollow claims I’ve frequently heard in favor of drinking.

In the short term, let’s focus on what’s clear. Countless people have lost their lives to domestic violence—perpetrated by spouses or family members—often fueled by alcohol. I can’t cite exact numbers, but I’d venture they’re far too high. And that’s just the fatalities; it doesn’t account for the countless non-fatal incidents, whether they were ever reported or not.

I’ve also observed a troubling pattern in our culture: there seems to be an expectation that everyone drinks alcohol. This became especially apparent during my time in the Marines, where I witnessed it firsthand.

I was informed unequivocally that drug abuse stands as the foremost challenge facing the Marines. Alcohol represents the primary substance of concern. Senior leadership, particularly general officers, consistently and candidly acknowledge this reality. Yet paradoxically, every Marine installation I visited maintained facilities dedicated exclusively to the purchase and consumption of alcoholic beverages.

Most major organizations host an annual informal gathering called a “beer bust.” While technically optional, attendance is strongly encouraged—and practically required for senior staff. Officially, no one must attend, but declining carries real consequences.

Beyond the beer busts, certain unspoken expectations loom large. Questions inevitably surface: “Why weren’t you at the…?” and so forth. I was repeatedly assured that these gatherings offered plenty of activities outside of drinking. Yet I found myself wondering: what else is there really to do at a drinking party besides drink? And how many times would I need to explain my choice not to drink when people notice my empty hands?

Certainly, while the drinking requirements aren’t stated outright, they’re nonetheless strongly suggested—and consistently so.

For anyone unfamiliar with this principle, consider a straightforward fact: no one has ever become a problem drinker without that first sip—reason notwithstanding. Yet society appears relentlessly committed to ensuring everyone takes it, even those firmly opposed.

In a society where alcohol remains the leading drug problem, it simply doesn’t make sense to encourage drinking—particularly that crucial first drink. We should do everything in our power to prevent it.

The no-ads is working out all right to decrease smoking. Do you suppose it would work for alcohol?

I think not. The alcoholic claims he’s not an alcoholic by saying he can walk away from it any time he wants to. The problem with the problem drinker is that he never wants to walk away. And so the problem drinker never knows if he can quit. He only knows of his success for a day, a week, a month…. It is true he can fail at any time or from anything; perhaps all it takes is an encouragement to go to that beer bash. After all, if he doesn’t go, he will not get the time off as the others. He will be required to work. So it is with society. It does not walk away from the alcoholic drink because the desire is not there and never will be.

Society wants me to take that first drink. Society does not want me to turn my back on it and walk away. Certainly not for all my life.

Then, of all things, I’m the one expected to justify myself—I am frequently asked why I don’t drink, why I do skip the parties while everyone else attends. I’ve never quite understood it. I try to live right and live morally, yet I’m the one fielding endless questions.

Society does not seem to want me to remain sober. It doesn’t seem to want any of us to remain sober. Perhaps that does say a little about our society.