The argument back in the 1960s and early 1970s was that if a young man was old enough to die for his country in the rice paddies of Vietnam, he was old enough to sip a beer before they buried him. And indeed, the argument had sufficient appeal that most states reduced the drinking age, as well as the voting age and age of majority, to 18.
When I arrived at college, a brash 17-year-old who had long since gotten a ridiculously bad fake ID in Times Square showing I was of the requisite age, there was a bar in the student union. A bunch of us from my freshman dorm headed straight over after dinner, and bonded. We were not, at first, particularly responsible drinkers, but then, we were mere steps away from home. And so night after night, we stumbled and survived to drink another day.
In due time, the novelty wore off and we became more responsible drinkers, though I suspect a great many happy times for all occurred in the interim. At the very least, we all had a great time and nobody died of alcohol poisoning or was accused of rape.
At Reason, Robby Soave argues that the 1986 change in law, where states were coerced to raise the drinking age to 21 or lose federal highway funds, has given rise to a plethora of terribles today. Continue reading
