The Dangerous Over-reliance on Alcohol for Recreation in Japan
In the many online event listings for what to do in Tokyo, the current few weeks are being almost fully occupied by various "beer gardens" being held in notable venues across the metropolis. Invariably consisting of some combination of alcohol, outdoors, and sometimes BBQ to go along with the drinks, these summer outings promise attendees a good time while cooling down with friends in an oh-so-hip environment specially designed for those Instagram-worthy selfies. With beer, meat, and photogenic atmosphere, these events seem to promise a good time for everyone from college kids to middle-aged salarymen.
While drinking in the summer is a universal phenomenon, the sheer amount of events all over Tokyo that cater to alcohol-and-outdoor-lovers should still raise an eyebrow. While summer does mean having a couple of beers on the beach and a few shots in a bar at night, the listing of beer gardens goes much beyond the casualness associated with recreational drinking. Instead, beer gardens, available in high-end venues in the middle of the city, daily for periods of weeks at an end, is almost a cousin of the regular post-work drinking sessions Japanese salarymen are so used to.
From the standpoint of the beer garden organizers, it makes sense to align their business models with the existing drinking culture of Japan. While the concept of beer garden remains shrouded in a kind of exotic, foreign mystique to some degree, gulping down pints after pints of beers cannot be any more familiar for the average Japanese, no matter how culturally conservative. For them, the idea of doing something familiar (drinking beer) in a sort of a different place (the pseudo-foreign environment of the crafted beer garden) has its appeal in switching up a boring, regular practice.
Indeed, reading the listing of endless beer gardens on top of shopping centers, hotels, and artificial beaches across the noisy metropolis, one cannot help but feel the power of capitalism is regulating what the public think should be exotically fun, all the while remaining true to the everyday. Even more overpriced than the already overpriced izakayas that are the staples of drunken salarymen, beer gardens ensure that people continue to spend money on alcohol as a primary means of having fun. Turning the act of drinking into even more fun ensures that people happily part with their money for alcohol.
Thought this way, beer gardens' method of getting more people to drink more by putting them into more exotic atmospheres is no different from tobacco companies getting smokers by advertising everything except smoking. By sponsoring sporting events, charities, and even scholarships, tobacco companies attempt to subliminally associate the act of smoking with athleticism, generosity, and even intellect. Without the need to even talk about smoking, the companies manage to attract a new generation of smokers just by communicating a desirable lifestyle.
Beer garden, like smoking, represents a lifestyle that companies can manipulate the image of, to create a sense of desirability. By playing up the idea of the summer holiday while still being within the conveniences of Tokyo, beer garden operators ask their potential audience to embrace a lifestyle that combines tropical relaxation with the convenience of the big city. The desirability of that lifestyle, rooted in a sense of people longing for vacationing in warmer places but find themselves unable to do so due to employment, family, and financial constraints, can drive people to splash out for a few hours on alcohol and food in a beer garden.
The prominence of beer gardens in the event listings of Tokyo, in some ways, reveals a lamentable lack of variety when it comes to recreation for the working masses of the city. Considering that event listings are supposed to introduce cultural activities that can engage a wide section of society, it indirectly shows just how little interest the city's dozens of high-quality museums and cultural centers attract from the general populace. Given that people want to unwind after stressful work hours, the failure of the city as a whole of providing venues for destressing that does not involve alcohol is a bit alarming, to say the least.
Even among those events that are not explicitly alcohol-related, there is an underlying assumption that getting a buzz will increase the enjoyment of the activity itself. Unbelievably, everything from light-up of centuries-old temples to family-filled fun days in popular plazas is accompanied by carts serving up alcohol and snacks that go down well with a drink. The implicit belief that one needs a drink to enjoy anything from history to hanging out with the family cannot possibly be good for both collective and individual mental health. The overreliance on alcohol as a social lubricant needs a second look, away from the capitalistic instinct to make money.
While drinking in the summer is a universal phenomenon, the sheer amount of events all over Tokyo that cater to alcohol-and-outdoor-lovers should still raise an eyebrow. While summer does mean having a couple of beers on the beach and a few shots in a bar at night, the listing of beer gardens goes much beyond the casualness associated with recreational drinking. Instead, beer gardens, available in high-end venues in the middle of the city, daily for periods of weeks at an end, is almost a cousin of the regular post-work drinking sessions Japanese salarymen are so used to.
From the standpoint of the beer garden organizers, it makes sense to align their business models with the existing drinking culture of Japan. While the concept of beer garden remains shrouded in a kind of exotic, foreign mystique to some degree, gulping down pints after pints of beers cannot be any more familiar for the average Japanese, no matter how culturally conservative. For them, the idea of doing something familiar (drinking beer) in a sort of a different place (the pseudo-foreign environment of the crafted beer garden) has its appeal in switching up a boring, regular practice.
Indeed, reading the listing of endless beer gardens on top of shopping centers, hotels, and artificial beaches across the noisy metropolis, one cannot help but feel the power of capitalism is regulating what the public think should be exotically fun, all the while remaining true to the everyday. Even more overpriced than the already overpriced izakayas that are the staples of drunken salarymen, beer gardens ensure that people continue to spend money on alcohol as a primary means of having fun. Turning the act of drinking into even more fun ensures that people happily part with their money for alcohol.
Thought this way, beer gardens' method of getting more people to drink more by putting them into more exotic atmospheres is no different from tobacco companies getting smokers by advertising everything except smoking. By sponsoring sporting events, charities, and even scholarships, tobacco companies attempt to subliminally associate the act of smoking with athleticism, generosity, and even intellect. Without the need to even talk about smoking, the companies manage to attract a new generation of smokers just by communicating a desirable lifestyle.
Beer garden, like smoking, represents a lifestyle that companies can manipulate the image of, to create a sense of desirability. By playing up the idea of the summer holiday while still being within the conveniences of Tokyo, beer garden operators ask their potential audience to embrace a lifestyle that combines tropical relaxation with the convenience of the big city. The desirability of that lifestyle, rooted in a sense of people longing for vacationing in warmer places but find themselves unable to do so due to employment, family, and financial constraints, can drive people to splash out for a few hours on alcohol and food in a beer garden.
The prominence of beer gardens in the event listings of Tokyo, in some ways, reveals a lamentable lack of variety when it comes to recreation for the working masses of the city. Considering that event listings are supposed to introduce cultural activities that can engage a wide section of society, it indirectly shows just how little interest the city's dozens of high-quality museums and cultural centers attract from the general populace. Given that people want to unwind after stressful work hours, the failure of the city as a whole of providing venues for destressing that does not involve alcohol is a bit alarming, to say the least.
Even among those events that are not explicitly alcohol-related, there is an underlying assumption that getting a buzz will increase the enjoyment of the activity itself. Unbelievably, everything from light-up of centuries-old temples to family-filled fun days in popular plazas is accompanied by carts serving up alcohol and snacks that go down well with a drink. The implicit belief that one needs a drink to enjoy anything from history to hanging out with the family cannot possibly be good for both collective and individual mental health. The overreliance on alcohol as a social lubricant needs a second look, away from the capitalistic instinct to make money.
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