Booze and politics

At the heart of Greenaway's excellent book is a intriguing puzzle. Over the years alcohol has presented politicians and policy makers with a range of difficult problems. It has, in some periods, enjoyed a high political profile. Yet at the same time there has been a relative lack of interest in the issue on the part of historians and political scientists.

This neglect has not, of course, been total. There have been a number of excellent studies such as Harrison's 'Drink and the Victorians' and Betsy Thom's authoritative analysis of alcohol policy in the modern era, to which, among others (including my own modest contribution to the literature), Greenaway appropriately refers. Nonetheless, the attention received by alcohol is often much less than the sum of its parts. Greenaway explains this in terms of the changeable and elastic nature of the issue. Moreover, there is little consensus on the issue, and it interacts with others in the policy arena in complex ways. The problem of alcohol is defined in different ways, and shifts and changes over time. The boundaries of the issue are very flexible and make it difficult to mark out the territory and conduct a meaningful analysis.

Greenaway seeks to correct this relative neglect with a book of high scholarly quality. His work is based mainly on primary and archival research, while making good use of the secondary sources available. The product of his labours is an account of the main phases of the politics of alcohol since the Victorian period up to 1970. Each chapter is well constructed, clearly written and full of insights. Not content with mere description, Greenaway seeks to explain the often complex policy streams, broader political context, and motivations of the various 'dramatis personae'. The marvellous thing about the book is that one does not have to be an expert on political history to follow his account. Although he is authoritative, Greenaway is at the same time rather kind to the reader and painstakingly explains the significance of events and developments.

While Greenaway correctly identifies the importance of the ever changing political context, and shows how the political response to the alcohol issue has reflected these dynamics, his account also tells us that some things do not change. His description of licensing debates at the beginning of the twentieth century (p77), for example, could easily apply today.

'A pattern of controls and regulations already existed. Difficulties arose because there were fundamental divisions concerning the purpose of control, the nature of the problem and the means by which a 'solution' could be secured.'

The historical account also contains insights and lessons for today's policy actors.

For example, Greenaway shows how division in the temperance movement proved a major obstacle to reform in earlier times. In highlighting the importance of a coherent lobby, he provides a useful message for those campaigning for action on alcohol problems in the present day. The power of the industry within the political process is also a constant theme. Again, those seeking to influence policy in this field, must not only understand this, but formulate strategies that reflect this reality. Greenaway also conveys an impression that alcohol has been a rather dangerous issue for politicians over the years. It is an issue that they cannot control and where they can easily be accused of failure. The same is probably true today, with ministers not wishing to be criticised for proselytising about alcohol, but also wary of criticism in the light of evidence on alcohol related harm.

Of course some things have changed. Alcohol no longer has the presence in high politics that it had in the late Victorian and Edwardian period, when, as Greenaway informs us, Cabinet Meetings debated licensing bills in depth and politicians spent hours concocting various schemes on alcohol control. The issue was at this time a major bone of contention between leading politicians in the government, and not only because of differences of principle. Hence, Greenaway argues, Harcourt's succession of local veto bills in the 1890s should be seen mainly an attempt to outsmart his arch-rival Rosebery in the Liberal Cabinet of this period. The chapters that cover the high politics of the Victorian and Edwardian periods are particularly rich in content, and, despite the complexity of both the issue and the political context at this time, remarkably clear and cogent.

As a history of the politics of drink, the book could have very easily been rather dull, particularly for those who find politics and/or history a little boring . Aside from Greenaway's writing style, which is always clear and concise, the attention of the reader is sustained with nuggets of detail and background, some of which are quite amusing. For example, on p139 Greenaway describes the bizarre activities of some trade 'agent provocateurs' in the 1920s who were trying to denigrate state run outlets by posing as tourists and attempting to buy alcohol out of hours, while generally snooping around the accommodation. In one case we are told that these efforts were countered by a formidable 'Miss Ferguson', who refused these impertinent requests, and a vigilant local state manager who was able to telephone colleagues in the vicinity about the activities of the troublemakers.

Greenaway reluctantly, and perhaps wisely, ends his analysis proper at 1970, the date at which public records became unavailable. He does, however, provide a useful epilogue for the post 1970 period. The politics of alcohol over the last thirty years, as Greenaway himself notes on p175 'can offer interesting insights into the policy process in the modern British state. It should provide future historians with access to official records a rich seam of material to quarry.' Anyone attempting this in future would be well advised to emulate the approach taken by John Greenaway in this excellent book.

Rob Baggott is Professor of Public Policy at the De Montfort University