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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

A Message Worth Hearing Politicians Shouldn’t Be Too Quick To Use Their ‘Wrong Message’ Attack Against A Proposal For Teenage Drinking Permits

Clay Evans Knight-Ridder

Not since the ‘80s mantra, “just say no,” have politicians so overused a meaningless, feel-good phrase: “It sends the wrong message.”

In the vexing ‘90s, variations on those words have become the insta- response to any proposed solution to societal ills that involves more than wishing for water from the moon, as they say in Indonesia.

As soon as somebody pitches a creative solution to a dicey problem - ie: acknowledging that kids do have sex and drink, or that the failed drug war has created a Frankenstein’s monster of crime - the pols scurry to the “wrong message” message.

Simply translated, “it sends the wrong message” means: “We know what we’re doing isn’t working, but we can’t say that because it would be a bad political move.” Shrug.

Recently, interim University of Colorado-Boulder Chancellor Rod Park put an interesting idea on the table: Creating a “‘drinking learner’s permit” for 18- to 20-year-olds. The logic is refreshingly blunt: Efforts to enforce prohibition on teenagers have failed miserably (and, some would argue, exacerbated the problem,) so let’s try something new.

The “wrong message” crowd was quick to respond. Among them was U.S. Rep. David Skaggs, D-Colo., who said, “As the father of a teenager, I can’t think of a worse message to send” and “Underage drinking kills, with or without a license.” Skaggs was simply following his heart, but let’s think about “wrong messages.”

Here are the messages we now send to kids regarding alcohol:

Drinking is an “adult” pastime. Yet millions of adults abuse alcohol, become alcoholics, drive drunk and resort to violence under the influence, yet are still deemed suitable drinkers by virtue of age alone. Drinking can kill, but it has nothing to do with age.

The government says it has the right to order 18-year-olds off to kill and be killed in distant wars, and tells boys and girls they are mature enough to vote. Yet it wags a finger and claims they are not mature enough to drink.

Advertising says booze will shower us with sex and good times. But few have the temerity to admit that many people, especially minors, drink because it’s fun.

Those messages ball up into hypocrisy, and kids have keen antennae for nonsense. When you’ve got a tornado of hypocrisy roaring down on you, it tends to make the whistling of the moralists a tad hollow.

Many scoff at Park’s proposal. Bartenders whine that they’ll be asked to “baby-sit” young drinkers. Others point out that the younger a drinker is, the less likely he or she will have the judgment to avoid drinking to excess, and drinking and driving.

But bartenders already are responsible for those they serve, as they have been sued and found liable, so that one’s a wash. And one need only have read recent newspapers to know that responsibility is not an automatic 21st birthday gift.

Park’s description of his idea as a “learner’s permit” may seem flippant, but it’s just right. Alcohol abuse among kids certainly has less to do with age than it does inexperience. When the dam of taboo finally breaks, who’s surprised that so many kids are swept up in the flood?

I was a gross alcohol abuser in my youth. I’m now an infrequent, wimpy drinker, perhaps lucky to be alive. Be assured that kids still drink, from Boulder to Biloxi, but they are more thoughtful than I was: Many use designated drivers - we didn’t - and many think about what they’re doing - we didn’t.

I’m not big on booze. I despise being around drunks and abhor the “testosterone boost” alcohol conveys; I vow undying vengeance on the drunken clown who would smear me across a highway.

Nobody should be so naive as to think Park’s proposal would magically prevent 15-year-olds from raiding Dad’s liquor cabinet - it won’t - but at least it would toss a twig of frankness on the pyre of hypocrisy.

We send messages all the time. Let’s at least make them honest.