OP-ED, Draft 1

BYOB: German City Reaches Out To Local Drunks


Drinking in public has always been a vital part of Germany's culture: beer gardens, parks, campuses, and even subway trains are popular hang-outs for beer, wine and champagne lovers of any age or social class, and at nearly any time of day. But while there may be only few things better than a beer-happy cook-out at the park, getting harassed by the drunk at the bus stop on the way home might dampen some of that joy.

Now, one German city has launched a revolutionary program to keep drunks off the streets. By promoting inclusion instead of exclusion, Kiel's 'drinking room' promises to be a humane and effective way of dealing with alcoholism (http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/0,1518,689975,00.html).

Funded by taxpayer money and by the Hempels social club, which also publishes a street newspaper, the bar “Sofa” offers alcoholics a cozy environment away from the public eye. Unlike regular corner pubs, this one serves only soft drinks and coffee, and guests are welcome to bring their own booze.

For many years, German cities have tried to battle public alcoholism and related harassment in their downtown areas. Attempts to ban offenders from city centers – either by physically removing them, or by blasting classical music from loudspeakers – resulted only in a relocation of the problem, but didn't solve anything. According to Christoph Schneider of the Kiel housing office, the city's unconventional approach has already proven successful: most of the 'public alcoholics' known to officials have migrated to the Sofa, and conflict has been extremely low. While the bar is rarely frequented by the homeless, it features a wide range of ages: alcoholics anywhere between 18 and 70 come to the bar for company and comfort.

But what's really great is that the Sofa is more than just a safe drinking haven: its organizers also provide addicts with advice on how to quit drinking, which has found broad appeal. Most of the Sofa's patrons seek help, and some have already managed to put down the bottle. Aside from providing information on recovery programs, the social workers at the Sofa help people resolve issues with their landlords, utility companies, or government offices. The bar even offers low-paying jobs in the bar itself, in the attached soup kitchen, or with the street newspaper to its unemployed guests, some of whom have been deemed impossible to place by Germany's employment office.

Other German cities have already expressed interest in Kiel's idea, and some, like Freiburg and Hamburg, have even visited the bar to see for themselves how exactly the Sofa operates. And it seems to do extremely well. Dortmund is planning to open a similar venue in its unemployment-stricken Nordstadt.

But as with any new government program, there are critics, too. Reinhard Boettcher, who manages the Sofa, told Der Spiegel that some people believe that the bar facilitates long-term unemployment, that it's merely a “place to park alcoholic Hartz IV benefits recipients and young people without a high-school diploma or a future.”

Such fears, however, are largely unfounded, given that Germany's recently implemented long-term unemployment benefit program barely pays enough to ensure decent living circumstances. At 359 Euros per month per person (not including rent), Hartz IV certainly won't make anyone too comfortable to look for work.

And the Sofa's success speaks for itself : the fact that some of the alcoholics have managed to quit drinking and are now holding small jobs proves that there is a will to improvement, and that the Sofa may be just what they need to initiate such positive changes. According to Boettcher, the bar makes it easier for social workers to approach the city's drinkers: its welcoming environment stands in contrast to the alienation many alcoholics experience on the street, including the distrust they feel toward people that offer help. The sense of community they encounter at the Sofa helps to start conversations and build trust between the social outcasts and their community. Another aspect that makes the Sofa so appealing is its no-pressure approach. Boettcher and his colleagues offer help when they're asked for it, but avoid pushing initiatives on their 'patients.' Alcoholics looking for company don't have to commit to anything, and it might be precisely this lack of commitment that 'lures' them in eventually.

Kiel's humane approach is effective not only because it's helping alcoholics, but also because it benefits the city's image: the drunks are off the street, and Kiel's non-alcoholics can enjoy themselves without being harassed. In the end, both sides win.

It will be interesting to see if other European countries (most of which also allow public drinking) adopt Germany's idea. In fact, it's rather surprising that Scandinavian countries or the Netherlands haven't already launched similar programs; especially because they're so progressive in other social areas. But then again, maybe they already exist? Given its lax weed laws, drinking rooms in Holland probably wouldn't be as news-worthy as they are in Germany. Either way, the Sofa is a great model for the rest of Europe, where drinking freedoms may have turned into drinking troubles, too.

The US, however, is a different case. Because alcohol can only be consumed in designated areas, and usually never outside of bars or private homes, alcoholics with a residence are more likely to drink at home anyway. While this circumstance might prevent trouble, it also makes the problem of alcoholism less visible to the public eye. After all, Kiel's program isn't just about keeping its streets clean, it's also about helping drunks to get clean. Allowing alcohol in public provides an open and potentially more successful approach to solving the dilemma of alcohol abuse.