Drinking to death: The economics of booze

By XN Iraki

Kenya: Life was very different up to the 1980s. Rarely did young people drink beer. Most traditional societies did not allow that. There were no drunken young men with eyes bulging out of their sockets, and losing their economic and biological productivity. It was the elderly who drank either conventional beer or had traditional brews made in their homes.

The turning point came in the 1990s, when unconventional alcoholic drinks hit the market with all sorts of catchy brand names, from Yokozuna to Napoleon to Machozi ya Simba.

And with this came unconventional drinking habits. The young started taking beer during the day and the elderly were relegated to spectators. Women, a group that had for ages been left out of the beer equation, also joined in. Conventional beer was left to the elite. 

But why did things suddenly change for the worse?

Keen observers will note that starting in the 1990s, the fibres that held the society together began to break down with the end of the old order. Teenage pregnancy became the norm, as did single motherhood and drug abuse. Crime increased.

The old order that governed our lifestyles from cradle to death was based on ancient traditions, cross pollinated with taboos. Among some communities, it was based on the church and its doctrines.

But starting in the 1990s, that order came tumbling down. We started questioning authorities, from the government to churches and parents.

The political freedom ushered in by multi-partyism had consequences, particularly when married with liberalisation of the economy.

Remember the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP)? Prices were freed and, as expected, went up. The price of beer had always been controlled, perhaps making it more accessible to the vast majority and keeping off illicit brews.

Blurred lines

More ominous is that rites of passage ended, and the distinction between childhood and adulthood was blurred. Children did not need to wait to be adults to do what adults do.

The voice of our parents, teachers, pastors and government got another powerful competitor — the media; it defined our tastes and standards. The Internet and social media drive the new quest for freedom without responsibility.

Under such a fluid state of political, social, mental and economic affairs, entrepreneurs realised there was money in alcohol. They came up with illicit brews to take care of the beer consumers driven out of the market by high prices. They found fertile ground, and perhaps did better than they expected.

With the authority of the government questioned by multi-partyism, they could get away with lots of things. The chief, just like the teacher, was defanged.

It was freedom, but with consequences. We fought to repeal the Chief’s Act, but there was no replacement. We fought to replace the cane in school, but there was no replacement. It is no wonder that among illicit brew drinkers are students.

The freedom of the 1990s resulting from the advent of multi-partyism was heightened further by the new Constitution.  It seems we even got the freedom to die young — is the prevalence of HIV not driven by freedom, too?

The new economic circumstances created a great market for illicit brews. Joblessness became a reality in the 1990s; even the jobs that were most available then, primary school teachers or policemen, were nowhere to be found.

Add retrenchment and the tribal clashes that displaced thousands, and hopelessness started haunting the nation.

Redefined manhood

Cheap alcohol sellers found a ready market, a hopeless people. They drank to fill a moral void, a relentless pursuit of meaning or meaninglessness.

Without jobs, sports or entertainment facilities, alcohol has become the new national pastime. Add the fact that alcohol consumption does not follow the law of diminishing marginal utility, and a social nightmare stares at you. 

In simplified terms, the law of diminishing marginal utility states that the more of a product or service you consume, the less satisfaction (utility, in economicspeak) you derive from it. But with alcohol, the more you take, the sweeter it becomes.

Interestingly, alcohol drinkers want to get drunk as soon and as cheaply as possible, which is why illicit brews are popular and lots of drinkers are graduating to hard liquor.

Alcohol is addictive and, in economicspeak, very inelastic. That means that even if the price of alcohol goes up, demand or consumption will not fall. No wonder this sector has attracted lots of business people.

However, I am convinced that the pure spirit used in making illicit brews must be stolen — it is too expensive to use in cheap drinks.

Consider that a mainstream product like Tusker has about 4.2 per cent alcohol content. How come some of the illicit brews have 100 per cent alcohol content?

Others have argued that the media has redefined manhood.  It is about going against the grain, drinking a lot and engaging in other behaviour that was previously unacceptable, such as promiscuous sex and drug abuse. Womanhood has been similarly redefined.

So, what can be done? Bury the dead and move on?

When a country’s most energetic people are busy drinking, we have reason to be very concerned. What are Koreans, Chinese or Japanese of the same age doing?

Parents must rediscover their parenting roles. But teenage mothers and fathers might need parenting themselves first. Is it surprising that alcoholism seems to run in families? Those who find no peace at home seek it in alcohol.

The Government needs to play its role as regulator. How do these drinks get into the market? Who benefits along the supply — or is it value — chain? Can we reconsider the taxation of alcoholic drinks?

Moral pedestal

We must get competitors to alcoholism. What if Kenyan sports were as addictive as the English Premier League or golf? 

About 42 per cent of Kenya’s population is aged 14 and younger, how do we keep them occupied? What other form of entertainment apart from taking alcohol or watching TV is available in crowded slums or affluent suburbs?

We must become a busy nation; the affluent take alcohol because they have too much leisure time, the poor take alcohol because they have too much leisure time courtesy of joblessness or too much hustling.

We must create jobs or help young men create jobs to give them purpose.

We must empower the youth, too many of them live in the shadow of fear, even when well educated. There is too much bad news around us.

We must make the country safe and improve our image to create more jobs. What are foreigners thinking about us when death from illicit brews hits headlines?

We must redefine manhood as the ability to bring up a family, contribute to the society and think intergenerational. Can the church rediscover its moral pedestal, giving every generation purpose and meaning?

We could also be pragmatic and bring illicit brewers into the formal market to ensure hygiene and tax payment. Why do we pretend that alcohol drinking is so evil, yet even the most primitive societies knew how to make it? Why don’t we accept that alcohol is intertwined with our lives, including religion?

Incidentally, Kenya is not the drunkest country in the world, if we use conventional alcohol as the standard, European countries take the crown.

Conspiracy theorists have argued that communism lasted that long in the former Soviet Union because everyone was drunk.

National shame

In confronting alcoholism, we must be multifaceted; we need social, economic, political and religious solutions.

Relying on legal solutions is not enough; why use Alcoblow to stop adults from taking legal and non-lethal brews while letting consumers of dangerous brews roam free and even kill themselves? Any Alcoblow for pedestrians?

Death from illicit brews 50 years after uhuru is a national shame and does not make economic sense. Alcoholism is a symptom of a bigger problem — our failure to confront national problems the last 50 years. It is time we faced our problems head on to make a difference for the next generation.

Finally, a digression: in the aftermath of Westgate terror attack, the world shared in our grief, with condolences pouring in from all corners of the globe. Why is the world so silent now, yet more people have died from drinking illicit brews in the last week than from the attack?

The writer is a senior lecturer at University of Nairobi’s School of Business.

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