THE MISGUIDED PROHIBITION THAT GOVERNS U.S. COLLEGES

Two young college women present phony identification cards and try to order
alcoholic drinks at an off-campus restaurant. When police are called to the
establishment, they question the students and cite them for under-age
drinking offenses.

The event -- with no accidents, deaths, or riots -- appears unremarkable.
But it makes national news because the young women are Jenna and Barbara
Bush, the president's daughters.

Compare that "newsworthy" item to other under-age drinking stories. Every
college term, we hear accounts of students who risk acute alcohol poisoning
during rituals like "21 for 21" -- when, on their 21st birthdays, they down
a shot of liquor for every year of their lives. In dormitory rooms and
off-campus apartments, students who feel depressed hole up with bottles of
alcohol, start to chug, and are lucky if their supposed cure brings nothing
more than headaches and heaves. Underclassmen attend alcohol parties tied
to the Big Game, drink themselves insensible, and fall to their death off
balconies. It's all been in the newspapers and other media, this shocking
waste of promising young lives.

The most common response to accounts of injuries or death among such
"adults" -- those old enough to go to war, marry, vote, sign binding
contracts, but not to buy a single draft beer -- has been to further
tighten age-based prohibition. Campuses and communities step up policing
measures. Task forces produce ever-more-exotic ideas about how to
quarantine young students from alcoholic beverages -- even those students
who demonstrate the ability to drink moderately and responsibly.

Yet despite all the countermeasures, accompanied by mounting penalties for
breaking the law, the tragedies continue. Why? Because the system of
prohibition that now governs almost every U.S. institution of higher
learning is ineffective and ill-founded.

At freshman-orientation sessions, at least half of the students are already
regular drinkers, according to several national studies. The traditional
newcomer, who is still in the majority on most campuses, immediately
becomes a member of a peculiar demographic community: Almost everyone is 18
to 22 years old. Through fraternities, sororities, other campus
organizations, dating, and less-formal socializing, this narrow age group
constantly intermingles. In any social setting where alcohol is present,
the law says those 21 and older may drink beer, wine, and distilled spirits
in unlimited quantities -- as long as they do not drive or appear
intoxicated in public. Yet those who are 20 years and 364 days, or younger,
must stick with soft drinks or become lawbreakers.

Should anyone be surprised that zero tolerance is met with rebellion and
rule breaking? Outlandish behavior is a typical reaction to prohibition,
which is why the illegal speakeasies were always bawdier than the public
bars that the Volstead Act shut down. Today's age-specific prohibition
seems to be working no better than the 1920's version. Although a smaller
percentage of young adults is now drinking than in the recent past, a
sizable minority is drinking recklessly. What's the solution?

Through our close relations with students over the years -- two of us are
professors and one is a student-affairs officer -- we've become keen
observers of student drinking and its outcomes. We've often wondered why
colleges haven't developed a system of gradual access to alcohol beverages
for 19- and 20-year-olds. Why not teach responsible drinking behavior under
mature supervision, rather than leave young adults to experiment on their own?

We would like to suggest an alternative to the zero-tolerance policies that
are prevalent today: a provisional drinking license.

In more than 30 states, teenage drivers gain experience while holding
special licenses that restrict when and how they may drive -- for example,
no late-night cruising is allowed. Such an approach permits a slow
introduction to an adult privilege. The same concept should apply to drinking.

What could be the elements of a provisional drinking license? There could
be time and place restrictions. The license holder could drink, for
example, only in an establishment where at least 75 percent of sales
receipts were for food and only before 11 p.m. No bar or liquor-store
purchases would be permitted.

Moreover, a 19- or 20-year-old would have to undergo formal instruction
about alcohol and pass a licensing exam. Parents and other authorities
could unilaterally revoke or suspend the special license without which
service or consumption would be illegal. In addition, the provisional
license would not be accompanied by any changes to the current
zero-tolerance laws, by which drivers under 21 are considered legally drunk
if their blood-alcohol content is greater than .02 percent.

We realize that a few young people would undoubtedly continue to drink too
much, too fast, in risky settings, or for the wrong reasons. But for the
Jenna and Barbara Bushes of the world (by all accounts they did not exhibit
out-of-control drinking behavior) and the vast majority of other college
students who are eager to learn about drinking responsibly but denied any
sensible opportunities, clandestine overindulgence could give way to public
self-regulation.

The penalty for abuse would be revocation of the privilege. Young people
would learn to accept alcohol for what it is: a socially acceptable
beverage in need of respect, not a source of magical empowerment or easy
escape that increases with every gulp. Gone, too, would be the scenarios
that invite contempt for the current law, such as the inability of two
20-year-olds to drink champagne at their own wedding.

At the colleges where we teach and work, we delight in seeing emerging
adults grow in academic knowledge and in life skills, turning before our
eyes into competent adults. To leave alcohol outside that process, the
record shows, is foolish and dangerous.

It's time to encourage a moderate approach rather than force more-dangerous
behaviors underground to everyone's detriment. It's time to open the doors
to constructive debate and to teach through trust and potential rather than
through blame, accusation, and guilt. It's time to move beyond the
forbidden-fruit syndrome -- and its tragic consequences.

David J. Hanson is a professor of sociology at the State University of New
York at Potsdam. Dwight B. Heath is a professor of anthropology at Brown
University. Joel S. Rudy is a vice president and dean of students emeritus
at Ohio University. Hanson and Heath are authors of several books on topics
dealing with alcohol.