60 Business The Economist January 22nd 2022
A
rather goodblack comedy called
“Another Round” depicts what hap
pens when a bunch of disenchanted
Danish school teachers constantly top up
the levels of alcohol in their blood. At
first the experiment goes well: the stu
dents respond enthusiastically to their
newly inspiring teachers. But uncon
sciousness, bedwetting and worse soon
ensue. By the end of the film, it is almost
like a normal day in Downing Street.
A series of revelations about parties
held in the home of the British prime
minister during the pandemic, while the
rest of the country was subject to co
vid19 restrictions that banned such
jollity, has put Boris Johnson’s job on the
line (see Britain section). The story has
brought with it allegations of a culture of
drinking among staff in Number 10:
whiprounds among colleagues to buy a
winecooler; “prosecco Tuesdays” and
“winetime Fridays”; a suitcase used to
ferry booze into the office.
Downing Street is a specific place:
most people can socialise outside work
without worrying about journalists
eavesdropping. “Partygate” nonetheless
raises the wider question of whether
alcohol belongs in any office.
The pitfalls of combining drink and
work are obvious. One is safety: a study
from 2005 found that one in four indus
trial accidents worldwide could be attrib
uted to drugs or alcohol. A second is that
it encourages addiction. Alcohol use is
the biggest risk factor for premature
death and disability among 15to49
yearolds globally, according to the
World Health Organisation. Research
carried out in Canada found that norms
encouraging workplace drinking, wheth
er getting a round in after work or mak
ing booze available in the office, were
predictive of alcohol problems. A third consideration is the effect of
sloshed colleagues on their coworkers.
Roughly onesixth of Norwegian employ
ees say they experience harm from their
colleagues’ drinking, whether through
unwanted sexual attention or simply
feeling excluded. A recent 12country
survey found that 9% of employees are
subject to some negative spillover effect,
principally through having to cover for
their coworkers in some way.
No wonder many organisations ban
drinking on the premises or in working
hours. Lloyd’s of London, an insurance
marketplace long associated with boozing,
stopped its own employees from imbibing
between 9am and 5pm in 2017; two years
later it extended the prohibition to the
much larger group of people with access to
its building. But boundaries are hard to
police. Lots of workrelated drinking
happens after hours and out of the office.
That is especially true in the wake of the
pandemic, when the lines between office
and home have become so blurred. Is
someone working at home with a glass of
wine drinking on the job? Bans can also be counterproductive.
Lunches may not be as liquid as they
once were, but salespeople will still
sometimes want to wine and dine a
client. A paper from 2012 found that a
certain level of intoxication improved
people’s problemsolving ability; writers
at The Economisthave been known to
combine claret and keyboard. Work
drinks are a simple way to show appreci
ation for employees. Plenty of people
enjoy alcohol and are capable of doing so
in moderation. Leaving dos and office
parties would be a lot less fun for many
without a glass in hand.
The liberal argument—that, within
reason, people should be able to make
their own choices—is a good way to
frame policies on workrelated drinking.
Let people have a tipple, so long as it does
not impair their productivity. Make sure
that choice genuinely goes both ways:
stigmatising nondrinkers is a problem,
particularly in boozy cultures like South
Korea’s. Normalise restraint, by restrict
ing the frequency of work events and the
amount of drink on offer.
And if you do worry about your drink
ing culture, the Downing Street shambles
can help. Here are ten signs that things
may be getting out of hand:
• You think a suitcase is a unit of mea
surement.
• You try to expense your fridge as a piece
of office equipment.
• You bring booze to work events and
laptops to parties.
• Your behaviour requires you to apol
ogise to the queen.
• You cannot count to ten.
Alcohol and work can go together, but
in moderation. That may not be the most
original advice in the world, but follow
ing it would have left Mr Johnson with
less of a headache.Don’t ban, don’t binge and don’t badgerBartlebyDrinking in the office
expanding but incumbents’ share of it is
not. Established brands have a place—peo
ple need to brush their teeth—but growth
in the sector increasingly comes from a
new pharmacopoeia of clever products and
services, many of them with digital fea
tures. Even in good years gsk’s consumer
health division has grown at best in single
digits. The longterm growth prospects for
its brands look pale. Antacids and nicotine
patches have only limited potential, even
in emerging markets.
Unilever’s rivals have been more dis
cerning with their acquisitions. In 2020Nestlé acquired Aimmune, a novel peanut
allergy medication, and a year later it
bought Nuun, a challenger in the sports
beverage market. Both deals gave the Swiss
firm a foothold in profitable, underdevel
oped niches. p&gis dabbling in premium
skincare, one of the industry’s fastest
growing categories, with its latest acquisi
tions Tula Skincare and Farmacy Beauty. If
Unilever does end up disposing of its food
business, it may also miss out on the boom
in alternative proteins, notes Bruno Mon
teyne of Bernstein, a broker. Meat substi
tutes appear certain to become more popular with time and companies like Unilever
stand to benefit, given their mix of solid re
searchanddevelopment base and brands
beloved by consumers.
Unilever says it has another, undis
closed initiative up its sleeve to improve
performance. It had better. The pandemic
boost notwithstanding, the entire con
sumergoods industry has experienced
slower growth over the past decade. With
the exception of Nestlé, European compa
nies have done poorly. Unilever needs
some refreshing, but more toothpaste
won’t do the trick.n