Tim Luckhurst: Listen to a Scot: longer drinking hours don't help

One imagines that Her Majesty is rarely troubled by licensing laws. When she fancies a bracing gin and Dubonnet at two o'clock in the morning, the biggest problem must be to find a butler to serve it who is not absorbed in erotic adventures with a colleague. She can have had few qualms about her Government's intention to "bring forward legislation to streamline the licensing system for premises selling alcohol". From the Windsor perspective the idea must look benign, a chance for subjects to savour a modest thimble of malt after a night at the theatre.

That is certainly how the Prime Minister sees it. This is an opportunity to modernise England, a return to core New Labour philosophy. Out with silly regulations introduced when Lord Kitchener required a steady supply of sober cannon fodder and factories craved clear-headed labourers to make shells to kill the Hun. In with café society and an Englishwoman's right to sip a flute of fizz whenever the urge arises.

Oh charming prospect! The logic is impeccable. Urgent drafts of turbo-charged lager and saccharine alcopops are not consumed in a deliberate attempt to alter consciousness. It is all a mistake brought on by the imminent call of "Time, Ladies and Gentlemen, Please". Freed to consume when we please, our fervour will cool. We will not drink more. No, we will spread the same intake over longer, less frenetic sessions.

For an Edinburgh lad, Tony Blair seems stunningly ignorant of his roots. He should visit Scotland more regularly. The experience might not shatter his faith that devolution has been a success, but it would raise doubts about the wisdom of 24-hour drinking.

Scotland abandoned war-time austerity in 1976. The Caledonian system of autonomous licensing boards and regular extensions has made all-day drinking a liver-crippling reality for more than a quarter of a century. Result? Dear reader, you may be familiar with certain Scottish stereotypes; Rab C Nesbitt and the Rev I M Jolly do not lack basis in reality. Nor do the young Billy Connolly's depictions of inebriated thuggery (he's been less impressive since he swore off the electric soup himself). License-liberated Scotland has not become a shining example of moderation. Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday night resembles the Somme, except that the injuries are more likely to be self-inflicted.

Evidence published this week showed that Scotland has the highest incidence in the world of an alcohol-related brain disease called Korsakov's syndrome that causes irreversible memory loss. There is also an appalling level of knife crime by drunken young men and domestic assault in which alcohol is cited as a contributory factor.

Since liberalisation Scotland has experienced a steady rise in alcohol-related injuries, psychiatric conditions, cirrhosis, cancer and brain disease. Binge drinking by young women has reached crisis point. A culture already warped by macho images of the hard-drinking industrial labourer has become more drink-sodden, not less.

Dr Andrew Fraser, Scotland's chief medical officer, recently warned: "We have to relearn our relationship with alcohol. If we do nothing, we will just see the problem spin out of control. Alcohol will take control of many aspects of our lives." If that sounds apocalyptic, it is because the problem in Scotland really is that bad.

Of course, the crisis is not just the result of liberal drinking laws. Scotland's reputation for dour Calvinism, release from which can only be found in morality-loosening excess, was well-established before 1976. Like all good stereotypes, it was built on a firm foundation of honest observation.

The real problem for Mr Blair's new crusade is that modernisation of Scotland's drinking laws made things worse, not better. Scots did complain about restricted opening. Then the joke was that the definition of a Scot with an alcohol problem was someone who "cannae get enough of the stuff". Pubs were places in which nothing was allowed to interfere with the serious business of imbibing. Entertainment of any kind was banned, as were women.

Back in 1983, when the new era was still exciting, Jimmy Reid, that seasoned observer of Scottish life, predicted the future with acute foresight. "Equality means that women should have the same opportunity as men to acquire cirrhosis of the liver."

That happened. The number of hours of work lost to hangovers rose. But, because it was easier to obtain a licence to sell alcohol, average drink prices fell as the number of licensed premises increased. The Scottish Executive is awaiting the results of a new review of licensing laws. It is unlikely to recommend further liberalisation.

I consider it the right of any Briton to drink him or herself into a stupor without interference from the state. My objection is to Mr. Blair's logic, not his policy. By all means eradicate regulations and devolve responsibility to the individual. I would rejoice if the Government applied the same approach to speeding restrictions or smoking in public places. It won't, because ministers believe that non-interference harms the vulnerable. How bizarre that Mr Blair should embrace libertarianism in one area of social policy where the consequences are transparent to all who do not already have Korsakov's syndrome.

TimLckhrst@aol.com