LICENSING HOURS
Spirit of the times
NORMAN FOWLER
Lloyd George once complained that " every government that has ever touched alcohol has burnt its fingers in its lurid flames."
Mr Maudling has made no secret of the fact that he considers the licensing laws archaic and in need of thorough overhaul. The committee of inquiry which he has set up under Lord Erroll is carrying out what is in effect the first complete examination of the drinking laws for fifty years.
If one thing has remained constant over the years it is the violent reaction of public, Parliament and press to any possibility of change. In 1834 a select committee which looked forward to a day when spirits would be banned was dubbed " the drunken committee" by no less than The Spectator and laughed out of court. In 1854 there were riots in Hyde Park when an attempt was made to restrict Sunday opening hours; and twenty years later Gladstone who had also tampered with the laws claimed to have " been borne down in a torrent of gin and beer" when defeated in the subsequent election. Even at the beginning of the twentieth century feeling on the subject ran so high to cause the Asquith government to lose a series of byelections.
The very first attempt to control pubs (or tippling houses as they were then far more descriptively known) was in 1552 when landlords were forced to get licenses from local justices. But as the views of justices varied wildly from parish to parish it meant that although one tippling house might be under strict control another could be open twenty-four hours a day and offer gambling and dancing to boot. An entirely different approach tried 300 years later was to allow any householder who could raise two guineas to open a beer shop. Not surprisingly the number of beer shops doubled and Sydney Smith was moved to observe that "everybody is drunk. The sovereign people are in a beastly state."
The die was finally cast by Lloyd George. Whereas previously pubs had been open throughout the day from about 6.00 am to 11.00 pm the wartime regulations laid down that drinking in public was only to be allowed at lunch time and during the evening. Many of these wartime restrictions were made permanent just afterwards and it is these restrictions which still form the basis of our law. In 1961 Mr R. A. Butler slightly extended the opening hours but it was on his own admission a "modest increase," which became even more modest as it went through the House. An increase of one hour in midday Sunday drinking was portrayed as an attack on the traditional British Sunday lunch with a xenophobic skill that actually carried the day; while a proposal that the Welsh should actually decide for themselves whether they wanted to drink on Sundays, was attacked by one Welsh member on the grounds that it would give power to "a majority who rarely enter fully into the life of the nation." Fortunately this argument was not so successful.
Someone in London can drink to 11.00 pm; if he is having a meal he can drink until midnight; if he is not only having a meal but also listening to music he can go on to 1.00 am; if he is really enjoying himself with public dancing and all he can go on until 3.00 am; and if he is staying at a hotel he can drink himself silly provided he can find a barman to serve him. (Of course if he is a Member of Parliament he can drink as long as the House is sitting as the Palace of Westminster is exempt from the restrictions.) The licensing laws are an undoubted morass. They are inconsistent and lead to curious anomalies. Casinos, for example, are now prevented by law from offering live entertainment, which in its turn means that they are prevented from applying for the latest drinking licence. The result is that not only is hard gaming in the early hours now lubricated by Coca-Cola but it has also led to the appearance (or perhaps the non-disappearance) of illegal clubs that will offer poker plus drinks.
This area should undoubtedly form a major part of the investigation of the Erroll committee. Even the defenders of strict licensing laws might concede that there is no particular merit in having laws which are evaded and at the same time lead to a prosperous illegal sub-industry. It was after all exactly this argument that led to legalised betting shops replacing illegal but well-patronized street corner bookmakers.
Of course the most obvious solution to all this would simply be to allow pubs and clubs to open when they liked. But for all its libertarian appeal there is an undoubted case for restrictions. One historian of the temperance movement, Norman Longmate, pointed out Lloyd George radically reduced many of the social problems connected with drink. In four years cases of drunkenness fell from 184,000 to 29,000 and deaths from alcoholism were cut by fivesixths. Opening hours was not the only factor but alcoholism and drunkenness are not such small problems today that any government would lightly consider increasing them.
What there is, however, is an overwhelming case for meeting the demands of the reasonable public drinker; the man at the bar of the Clapham pub. And the sad fact is that no one actually knows what he wants. Nor if the Erroll committee goes the way of most committees of its kind are we ever likely to find out. There will be no shortage of brewers and publicans to give evidence nor of teetotallers and Welsh Methodists. The only man who is unlikely to have an effective voice is the consumer and the clear way to provide this is for the Erroll committee to commission a public opinion survey.
They need not necessarily be bound by the results but (as they say these days on another issue) it should certainly be a major factor in helping them reach a conclusion. If licensing reform is worth doing — as it undoubtedly is — it is worth doing properly. We may have to wait fifty years for another chance.
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