Nearly halfway into the final quarter of my freshman year, I have yet to drink any alcohol at Stanford, a fact I don’t plan to change even after I am 21. Perhaps fittingly, I am often gobsmacked by the not-so-legal lengths my fellow frosh go just to procure a drink… and further convinced that they shouldn’t have to be so sneaky just to partake in one of the most universal human vices. Over-consumption of alcohol is always a risk, but banning alcohol until age 21 makes no sense.

Humanity’s love of alcohol is not new to the modern era; rather, the human desire to imbibe is theorized to be baked into our DNA thanks to alcohol consumption’s potential evolutionary advantages (read: alcohol’s ability to get us to both overeat and procreate carelessly). Indeed, alcohol consumption has likely been an enduring part of hominid culture since before H. sapiens walked the earth, with the enzyme to break down alcohol emerging millions of years before the first humans did. 

Why is it, then, that Stanford — and the U.S. more generally — places such great emphasis on abstaining from alcohol until after 21, a seemingly arbitrary age that is not in alignment with the vast majority of Western countries? No one is denying the potential harm that abuse of alcohol can bring, whether that be an increased risk of violence, liver disease or general poor decision making, but making the legal age 21 will not suddenly stop these problems.

One could argue that 18-year-olds are simply not responsible enough to decide whether they should drink. However, that claim conflicts with the U.S.’s assertion that the very same 18-year-old is responsible enough to deploy in the military, get married (in all states but two), receive the death penalty, make their own medical plan and purchase a firearm, among many other choices that are arguably more life-changing than having a singular beer. In most states, one does not even need to be 18 to gain access to a potentially deadly product; after all, 16-year-olds are regularly given dominion over a 3000-pound death machine (also known as a car). Somehow, a teenager as young as 14 in some states can legally navigate the roads in potentially lethal machinery, yet a legal adult under age 21 cannot opt to order a glass of wine with their steak.

This quirk of U.S. law can be traced back to a Californian activist group called Mothers Against Drunk Driving that successfully advocated in the 80s to raise the drinking age from 18 to 21. The policy stayed because, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety administration, there is “strong evidence that MLDA-21 laws reduce drinking, driving after drinking, and alcohol-related crashes and injuries among youth.” Indeed, drunk driving fatalities have greatly decreased in the U.S. since the law was implemented in 1984.

On the other hand, Canada, the United Kingdom and other countries have also seen lower drunk driving fatalities during this time period, and unlike the U.S., they did not need to lower their drinking age to make it happen. This suggests that increasing the minimum legal drinking age did not directly cause less drunk driving fatalities, or at least, that this change in law was not the only reason. After all, cars are significantly safer than they were in the ’80s, not to mention the shift in culture to favor substances like marijuana (driving while high happens less often than driving while drunk). In fact, one study by Yale and Harvard researchers found that drunk driving fatalities were already on the decline before the implementation of the 1984 law, and the rate of decline actually slowed once the law was passed. Although the association between the law and drunk driving is clear, this does not necessarily mean causation.

History also shows that banning alcohol backfires. The Prohibition in the 1920s outright banned alcohol under very similar reasoning to the 1984 law, assuming that people simply cannot be trusted with liquor. In the short term, the ban was successful, and consumption dropped significantly. However, people could not be parted from their liquor forever, and it wasn’t long before the American Mafia filled that void, gaining power and profit by illegally smuggling alcohol. Their illicit liquor sometimes proved toxic, contributing to about 1000 tainted spirits deaths yearly as people could not seek out medical treatment without being questioned about how they got the alcohol in the first place.

While nothing so egregious as an outright ban is on the horizon today, prohibition of alcohol for 18 to 20 year olds has a similar detrimental effect by inadvertently encouraging those who need help for their alcohol use disorder to hide their issues instead. Society’s stigma of underage drinking has pushed these drinkers into secretive, risky behavior for fear of judgement and retribution. Normalizing light-to-moderate drinking could reduce alcohol’s rebellious allure and make it easier for those struggling to reach out for support. 

In accordance with federal law, Stanford explicitly bans alcohol usage for those under age 21 but also obligates RAs to report any instances. While administration gives three chances with increasing consequences before serious disciplinary action, the culture of reporting underage alcohol usage — even if done responsibly — inadvertently encourages students to hide their consumption. Unfortunately, this can easily backfire if usage gets out of hand: just as those in the Prohibition era did not seek out medical attention for fear of retribution, students may feel it is better to deal with the issue themselves rather than face possible disciplinary consequences if they do seek out help. Although Stanford’s Good Samaritan policy precludes others from disciplinary consequences if they call 911 to help their peers, not all alcohol consumption requires such an extreme response — yet the consequences for even minor usage are unrelenting.

I will likely never drink alcohol, a decision I am eminently happy with. Still, at least that is my choice. If I, a freshly minted 19-year-old, am responsible enough to decide against alcohol for the rest of my life, I should also be able to decide to partake in the time-honored tradition of drinking in moderation. Lowering the minimum age of alcohol consumption, while investing resources in anti-drunk driving campaigns and educational messaging on the drawbacks of alcoholism, will make drinking a safer experience rather than one shrouded in shame.