Lesley Riddoch: It's drink, not a lack of cash, that fuels our apathy

WHAT'S it like to live in a country that is deeply unadventurous? We should know. According to the National Lottery, almost half the British population has not tried a new activity for a year or longer and a further fifth can't remember what that new activity was or when it occurred. The reason most often quoted as holding people back from new experiences was lack of money.

Admittedly Britain has fallen from grace. But we used to be the fourth-richest country on Earth. If lack of cash is stopping us from seizing the moment, then God help everyone else.

Actually, I don't buy this explanation.

The reason so many Scots live well inside their comfort zones is not lack of money – it's drink. The part-time occupation of getting drunk is the reason so few Scots have new experiences – at work, in daily life, or even on holiday. It's not that the nation is communally swaying on its feet 24 hours a day. It's that getting beyond a "good night out" as the highlight of any weekend requires determination, organisation and the capacity to endure social isolation. The combination of which is beyond the will of most people.

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Getting drunk can even seem adventurous – at first. A Greek student allegedly sprayed the exposed genitals of a drunken Brit with alcohol and set him alight – prompting a court case that made the headlines this weekend and heroine status for the accused in a country sick to the back teeth of British drunken excess.

In less flamboyant ways, it happens every night. I'd guess most Scots are drunk during their first sexual encounter with a new partner, setting the pattern for future intimacy. Getting "out of your face" takes some drinkers well beyond the usual limits of their shy, reserved exterior.

Once they believe alcohol is needed to aid self-expression, sober Scots are effectively immobilised.

Add to that the deadening impact of any herd, and you have a self-policing, alcohol-oriented nation that expects danger and adventure to be encountered only when under the influence.

As a drinker turned teetotaller, I know how insufferably priggish this sounds – just like the uppity folk who used to complain about smoking.

That argument changed when the dangers of passive smoking were finally recognised.

So what about passive drinking? What are the costs and dangers of living in a society where "you've got tae drink"?

Police forces are recording massive overspends – how much of it is spent coping with the ugly aftermath of drink?

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Drinking to get drunk provokes arguments, depression and domestic violence. It has caused a rise in sexually transmitted diseases, unwanted pregnancies and a collapse in the self-esteem of young women who virtually anaesthetise themselves before going out.

During my time on the government's Prisons Commission, the role played by alcohol abuse in serious assaults was unmissable. But public debate focused instead on knives – perhaps because only "neds" use blades.

By contrast, we (almost) all drink. So the public overlooks the role alcohol plays in creating a savage society. Poverty and despair may be the big problems, but drink makes sure no-one has the emotional energy to tackle them. Gallows humour, bravado and lives experienced vicariously through football or Heat magazine abound. Limited horizons, a lack of drive and ambition, an acceptance of mediocrity – all the things Scotland tolerates are symptoms of a sedated society.

It takes only a few big drinkers to affect many. The primary school year may yet be delayed to stop one child infecting others with swine flu. How much more dangerous is constant exposure to a more virulent virus – the belief that getting drunk is a rite of passage for young Scots? Passive drinkers will eventually find it easier to match the drinking levels of significant others.

You're thinking Scotland isn't this bad. Not everywhere. Not all the time. Agreed. Moderate alcohol consumption may even be good for you. But are most Scots moderate about drink?

Last week saw some classic non-sequiturs in the debate over Whyte and Mackay's decision to cut 100 Scottish jobs.

"Industry insiders" suggested Alex Salmond's decision to march against the proposed 900 job losses at Diageo in Kilmarnock, combined with plans for minimum pricing, could cost more jobs because of the policy's likely impact on domestic sales.

The suggestion is that drinks giants, faced with being unable to hook youngsters through loss-making supermarket sales, will have to move elsewhere. Pur…lease.

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Unless they head to England or the developing world, drinks companies will find few societies more positively disposed towards drink than dear old Alba – even if the Nats' alcohol reforms become law.

Domestic demand for whisky is far more likely to survive minimum pricing than the more popular promotional white spirits like gin and vodka. Supermarket prices will rise – but then all alcoholic drinks will face the same price hike to correct a situation where booze has become cheaper than water.

And unless Scotland is so sozzled it hasn't worked this one out yet, something will have to change to control our most self-harming habit.

As a nation. we must drink less. This is not a contentious argument, but a medically supported fact. And yet legislative change is presented as a lethal cocktail designed to infringe civil rights, lose jobs and turn us all into dour Scandinavians. Chance would be a very fine thing.

Has the vodka industry quit Sweden or Norway despite policy restricting drink sales to government-run off licences that shut about 7pm?

Celts are firm believers in the benefits of excess. If one whisky is good, ten whiskies are ten times better. So, a big discovery lies ahead. Moderation may yet turn out to be the biggest adventure of all.