Cambridge students and alcohol. An infamous pair with a history almost as long and rich as the university itself. Nights of intense drinking often cap off intense working weeks, with the academic calendar marked with events such as C-Sunday. Drinking and social societies — like the infamous Pitt club — are veritable university institutions, constantly under scrutiny but never actually disbanded.

Undeniably, drinking can be a great way to let loose and celebrate; if nothing else, alcohol is a brilliant social lubricant. The anticipation of a good night out is always a great feeling, and there’s nothing quite like the cringe and hilarity of recapping last night’s drunken escapades. However, it’s worth assessing whether the place alcohol takes at the beating heart of Cambridge social life is completely justified.

“It’s almost a rite of passage for bewildered freshers to drink cheap booze in order to ease the overwhelming emotions brought up by moving away from home for the first time”

Cambridge’s reliance on alcohol is by no means a problem unique to the university, or even to universities in general; it’s common knowledge that Britain has something of a drinking culture. We Brits are famous for our love of alcohol; after all, the pub is considered a national symbol. But, surprisingly, general trends in alcohol consumption are decreasing in the UK, most significantly among young adults. Around 41% of young people in the UK recorded regular alcohol consumption in 2019, a significant fall from the ’90s. Yet, 16-to-24-year-olds remain the group most likely to engage with binge drinking — the riskiest form of alcohol consumption — on a regular basis.

It’s often the case that this kind of drinking walks a fine line between social solidarity and social pressure. It’s almost a rite of passage for bewildered freshers to drink cheap booze in order to ease the overwhelming emotions brought up by moving away from home for the first time. For some, that level of riotous consumption continues throughout their university careers.

But this particular kind of interaction with alcohol on a regular basis can be exhausting, and a counterproductive way of reliving the intense pressures that a working life at Cambridge inevitably produces. That’s before we even mention the expenses. Cambridge is one of the most pricey places to drink in the UK, with an average pint rounding out at £4.65, not lagging far behind London costs. Binge drinking at this price point stretches any student budget, not to mention its effect on those from lower-income backgrounds who may quickly feel the financial strain of regular drinking.

“It’s not simply another wild night if you’ve already been drinking for three days straight and are about to collapse from exhaustion — it’s a cause for concern.”

Binge drinking for days on end simply isn’t sustainable and often produces the opposite effect of the fun it is meant to foster. It’s incredibly physically draining, with the body functioning poorly under the strain of a perpetual hangover and the risk of pregnancy and STI contraction becoming much higher due to drunken judgment. Recent evidence suggests that regular excessive consumption of alcohol can lead to a significant deterioration of one’s mental health, which is already being put under intense strain for many at university. A recent Camfess illustrates the misery of one student in this situation, struggling to deal with a friendship group that hinges on excessive alcohol consumption and substance abuse. Their attempt to call out such self-destructive behaviour was met with dismissal. Whilst it’s easy to assume that such an extreme situation is miles away from our own, this attitude may run deeper than we like to admit.

We are often quick to tidy acts of excessive behaviour under the umbrella of the ‘Cambridge lifestyle.’ Pulling all-nighters, staying glued to a laptop for hours of studying and staying in the library in a frenzied determination to top the tripos are all deeply unhealthy habits, but ones that are often dismissed as merely being hallmarks of university life. Thus, it’s no surprise that as a community we often write off regular binge drinking as just blowing off some steam. It’s not simply another wild night if you’ve already been drinking for three days straight and are about to collapse from exhaustion — it’s a cause for concern.

To make it clear, I don’t intend to beat anyone with a moral stick. Nor do I suggest that we shy away from alcohol, denying ourselves anything more than a sip. However, a reckoning must be had as we try to reconcile our image of wild university parties with regularly vomiting on the corner of Trinity Lane. There is nothing glamorous in addiction.

Instead, we should reorientate where alcohol sits in our social fabric, making it an addition rather than a central feature. Focusing on genuinely unwinding and spending time with those closest to us is a far more effective and sustainable way to spend our time than in a perpetual state of drunkenness. Certainly, alcohol can and should be a part of a healthy social life for those who choose to drink, but it shouldn’t be the driving force behind it. Alcohol should operate on the whims of our social lives, not the other way around.